First Casualty

by Mike Moscoe

  Now, sitting close, Mattim also caught the scent of her: lilac and woman. His nose didn't agree with what he saw. But what he saw was changing; her eyes deepened. Limpid, they drew him in past the locked and cocked guns that stood guard. It had been a long time since Mattim wondered what was real behind the face a woman presented to the world. The conflict and complexities that were Mary drew him in.

  * * * *

  Mary let her fingers rove the man's arm. The massage had started her mind wondering. What would it be like to have soft, pliant flesh under her own fingers? It felt good just now.

  Mattim clearly was a Navy type and an officer to boot, just like the puke she'd risked her neck to rescue. She might like Captain Anderson and Commander Umboto, but she had little use for the rest of them, supply officers who couldn't supply shit, ships captains who couldn't keep the damn colonials off her back.

  She'd damn near KO'd the guy first time he moved in on her. She laughed at the memory. It would have felt good, but she'd have missed this conversation. She was talking, just talking to a guy. And he was listening. The CO's of B and C companies had listened to her, but their lives depended on what she said. This fellow was enjoying her just for what she had to say. It felt good in a way she hardly remembered.

  When a fight finally broke out between her beasts and the weenies, it wasn't over nearly as quickly as she'd expected.

  Of course, three other tables piled in to help. The bartender let them get their exercise, then brought out a stun rod and threatened to sticky-net the whole of them. The lights went up enough to show they were directly under said net. Even animals know when the fun's over. Mary offered to buy the next round. ,

  Mattim said it was more like a tie; they both ordered a round. Mary had vented enough of her anger at the powers that be. As their drinks disappeared, she asked him to tell her about the places he'd been, the beauty he'd seen. Being stuck in the mines didn't mean she hadn't looked up, dreamed of what was out there.

  The guy was quite a storyteller. He didn't just paint her a picture of this or that, but peopled the places. She found herself laughing at his misadventures among the locals as well as some of the strange things they did. When they left at midnight, she had an arm around him, and she actually enjoyed the feel of his arm around her. Rather than head anyplace, they just walked.

  Wherever they walked was just a shabby base, hastily dug out of rock, but that was not what Mary saw. Mattim painted her pictures. She stood with him at the flowing lava falls of Kinsinka and glided through the perpetual clouds of Tristram. It was when he told her of the four dancing suns that she pulled away and almost slugged him.

  “I may be a dumb miner, but I've heard of them. Nobody's been there. They're halfway across space. You liar. You've been shoving me a line. You probably haven't been anywhere you've said. What are you, some shit supply clerk?”

  The man didn't back away from her, nor did he have the good sense to get ready to defend himself. He just stood there. “I guess I shouldn't have mentioned them.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Mary's arms twitched; fists clenched without thought. All the anger, hate, and fear the last weeks had force-fed her wanted out. She wanted to reduce this liar to a bloody pulp the docs would have to sponge up.

  He eyed her, defenseless as a newborn in a crèche. Mad as she was, it was still hard to smash someone so helpless. If only he'd run or fight, she could pound him. He took a quick breath. “Two weeks ago, my ship was lost and orbiting those stars.” He spoke so softly, so matter-of-factly, she was slow to react. His words were like a rocket coming in low, under her sensors.

  She studied him; his eyes were what drew her. They held the distant echoes of terror and triumph! No weenie could fake that. “Really!” she gasped. Her fists were hands again.

  “Yeah. We saw some pretty spectacular places. None as lovely as this collection of junk when we found our way back.”

  “How?” she found herself whispering.

  “We've been using one jump point to go one place. If you know how, you can go dozens, maybe hundreds of places.”

  Mary had a hard time breathing. Planets, asteroids, millions of them. Good places for people like her. “Shiiiit, the mine we could set up. Not some crappy passed-over claim, but a real goer.” The joy took her; she twirled, arms high, dress spinning out. Again she faced the spacer. Without thinking, she found her arms around him, her lips on his. For a moment, he held back. She hadn't frightened him off with her fists. Just her luck; now he was afraid of her lips. Then he kissed back.

  * * * *

  Oh, but this woman was wild. One second cold, then hot. One minute ready to take his head off, the next squeezing him in a bear hug just as life threatening, even if her intent was quite the opposite. For a moment, Mattim held himself on tight reins as a captain had to. Then he tossed himself to the wind. The woman wasn't asking for a twenty-year contract with right to offspring. He'd probably never see her again. And few women in the last twenty years had tugged at his heart like this Mary had.

  When they came up for air, she danced around him. “You've changed the whole bloody galaxy! You've opened doors no one can close. You'll be up there with Neil Columbus, Chris Armstrong and Jon-Luc Jones of the Challenger .

  You made it happen. The rest of us can hope again.” Her eyes gleamed; her lips split in a grin, not the cynical one that had watched the other drinkers, but the wondrous smile of a child with her first butterfly.

  Too worried about getting back, and too busy afterwards, Mattim had never permitted himself to feel what they'd done. Now he did, and he was lost in the joy and admiration of this woman's eyes.

  It hit him. He had! His people and his Maggie had damn well opened a door, a door any ship could cruise through. It took six or eight jumps to reach some pretty inhospitable places. With just four jumps he had found a paradise planet. Four jumps ... one paradise. Not a bad set of odds.

  Now he did swing Mary off her feet—and kiss her.

  “I got a room,” she mumbled against his shoulder when they broke the next time.

  “And a bed with clean sheets.”

  “Very clean.” She chortled.

  “The woman I met a few hours ago seemed pretty happy to have those clean sheets to herself.”

  “But the woman you're with now is too full of herself to fit in that bed alone.” Arm in arm, and ignoring the rest of the universe, they made their way to Naomi's Place.

  * * * *

  Next morning, Mattim came awake of 0515. Mary was still sleeping. He pulled on his clothes quietly and put his shoes on in the hall. Tonight, he'd be at the Dog Palace. If Mary was there and willing, so was he. Otherwise, he had one fine night.

  * * * *

  Mary awoke to a soft knock at the door and an empty bed. She suspected it was late enough that a sailor not on leave had better be on the job—whatever that job was. The knock repeated itself. Mary wrapped the sheet around her nakedness and opened the door a crack. Naomi was in the hall, the credit machine held out to Mary. “Battalion called. Colonials are in-system. All leaves are canceled. They want you back.”

  Mary glanced at the machine; it charged her for one massage, and gave her back two nights lodging and two baths. “No time for even a bath.” Mary heard her voice take on a whining twist.

  “We civilians have one hour to report to the deep shelters.” Naomi shrugged.

  “Sounds a hell of a lot more sensible than reporting to the line,” Mary snorted as she took the machine and signed.

  “Here's your suit-liner.”

  Mary dropped her sheet and pulled it on. She still smelled of flowers and man. Wonder how long that will last? She double-timed to battalion. The armory had at least refreshed her suit. There was a truck headed for A company with supplies and six replacements. The kids looked terrified; she gathered the nuggets around her. “First, forget everything they told you at boot camp.” Eyes grew wide behind helmets. Good.

  “Second, do what your corporals and sergeants t
ell you. They want you alive as much as you want to stay alive. Third, you're going to be scared shitless. Well, let your suit take care of that. You got fifty rounds in your rifle. Once you've emptied that first magazine, you'll be over the hump. Now enough, crew. Rule four is sleep whenever you can. The colonials are headed our way, and you don't sleep when there's Collies around. Flake out and get some sleep.”

  They obeyed, as she would have expected of green kids. At least they stretched their bodies across the crates. Mary doubted many would sleep. She made herself comfortable. Her mind was a jumble, part going down the company's deployment, who would get this fresh meat. That was the lieutenant's job.

  But the miner in her yelped with glee. Wait until Cassie and Lek hear! Maybe an entire solar system to themselves! All they had to do was stay alive.

  Mary awoke to a start at Cassie's voice. “Mary, you made it back. Thank God. The colonials are rounding Elmo. We got thirty minutes before company arrives.”

  Mary sighed. She wasn't home, but she was back.

  Trevor H. Crossinshield approached his patron. The man was feeding ducks! Trevor glanced around. In the trees ringing the pond, people moved, in pairs and singles. How many are security guards? Certainly a man of his patron's wealth did not risk himself in the open. Wasn't the virtual world enough for him?

  “How goes my war, Mr. Crossinshield?” “Very well, sir. The damage to New Canton is greatly exaggerated in both colonial bragging and Earth propaganda.” With a flick of his wrist, the patron dismissed the rape, pillage, and killing of fifty thousand—or five million, depending on which report you accepted. Even Trevor's sources varied from one hundred to five hundred thousand. “Not my investment. Now, my President Urm, is he well protected?”

  “The best security guards and equipment money can buy, sir.”

  “And among them?” His patron smiled. “A squad of people also in our pay who can turn him off like a light when you wish.”

  “Very good. It may be necessary to turn this war off rather suddenly. Six, maybe nine months more. I'll tell you when.” “Yes, sir.”

  “Is there anything else, Mr. Crossinshield?” The proper answer to that was “No, sir.” Today, Trevor paused before risking, “There is one other matter, sir.” Did an eyebrow twitch? “Yes.”

  “A cruiser, the Sheffield , has made a rather interesting voyage of accidental discovery.” Quickly, Trevor filled in the essentials for his master. “It might be possible to visit every star in the galaxy with no more effort than it takes to go from Earth to LornaDo,” he finished.

  “Fascinating, but a tad too much change for my tastes. Hardly manageable. Who knows of this?”

  “One of our men has it. It has yet to enter the normal Navy info stream. It appears that one outpost and a colonial planet have also accessed the information.”

  “Such insignificant places should not be hard to make disappear,” his patron murmured. “Yes, Mr. Crossinshield, pay our man well and have him keep this away from Navy eyes. See what he can do to plug the leak, make them disappear.”

  Trevor nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Twelve

  A week later. Mr. Nuu asked Ray and Rita to accompany him to work. In the basement of an unused building, the spy master waited, identical briefcases in either hand. “I have been over both of these personally. Which one would you like to test?”

  Ray pointed at the one in his left hand. There was an abandoned vault behind the spy. He entered it, exited a minute later, and secured the door. Ernest started walking for the other end of the basement. Rita, Ray, and the fat man followed.

  “You have no detonator,” Ray observed.

  “I doubt any signal could penetrate the safe. It is on a timer.” The spy glanced at his watch. “About now.”

  Thunder and sharp pings came from the safe. The spy headed back for the vault. Ray put out an arm to stop his bride from following. “If it worked, a few moments' delay means nothing. Until he says so, I do not intend to approach his explosives.”

  Ray, Rita, and her father waited.

  Edging the safe's door open, the man peered in, then pushed it open wide. “Come see what this was meant to do.”

  What greeted Ray was promising. Driven into the steel of the door and vault were thin metal and plastic darts. The spacing was relatively even. Ray tried to pry a dart loose— and sliced his finger. The spy master offered a pair of pliers. On his fourth try, Ray levered one loose. A centimeter long, maybe two millimeters square, it was ugly and effective.

  The spy opened the last briefcase. “The shell is a sandwich of metal and plastic. Both fragment into deadly flechettes. Between is an extremely powerful explosive coated to almost totally eliminate any outgassing. Sniffer dogs will find nothing. The most powerful sensors probably would also draw a blank. In your case, they will be overpowered by your meds.”

  “Very good.” Ray nodded.

  “And who, among your so secure staff—Rita smiled through gritted teeth—”arranged for one to go off with only a pop?”

  The spy master at least had the honesty to look uncomfortable. “A total surprise, but it is taken care of.”

  Rita took a breath, but before she could get a word out, Ray preempted her. “Not acceptable. If you trust us to send your fondest regards to the President, you trust us to know what we are up against. If you must keep me in the dark, I go nowhere.”

  That took Rita by surprise; Ray turned to her. “Being willing to do the job, love, does not mean I am willing to fail.” He turned back to the spy master. “Someone knows these briefcases exist. That someone knows three are gone. That same someone I would not count among my friends. Who is he, and what have you done to eliminate or contain him?”

  “Her,” the spy corrected him. He rubbed his chin. “We have identified everyone connected with Unity and other governments. This woman is drawing her second paycheck through a very complex arrangement with Earth, but with no government involved.” He glanced up. “I do hate contractors. They complicate personnel situations terribly. One does know who is working for whom.”

  “You've taken care of her?” Rita demanded.

  * * * *

  “Young woman, her family is far too well connected for us to use a drastic approach. No, there are three briefcases where three should be. We will be careful what we let her know in the future, and of you, Major, she knows nothing.”

  “Thank you for that small favor,” Ray drawled. “For the moment, we will assume surprise is on our side. I will need to maintain some flexibility. A man of my rank and condition should have an aide to carry my briefcase. Captain Santiago would be the logical choice. I understand he might be available.”

  The spy master nodded. “The new general of the Second Guards is not impressing him.”

  “So our task force is complete,” Ray concluded.

  “You forgot me,” Rita said firmly. “I won't jiggle your elbow, but the daughter of a social climbing, early party member would surely go along to accompany you to the ball. There will be a ball, to celebrate the President and his hero,” she said.

  “Yes.” The spy nodded. “But you need not be there.”

  “What conspirator would bring along his bride?”

  The spy master rolled his eyes. “I can make reservations for two or three.”

  “Make them for three,” Ray ordered. “You can always cancel one if I succeed in talking sense into this wonderful fool.”

  “Try,” she challenged him.

  He would, but he had no optimism he would succeed.

  * * * *

  “So, Matt, did spending a day stuck to the bull's-eye help you think?” The admiral's brown eyes sparkled. The eighteen ship's captains in the room laughed.

  “It did tend to concentrate my thinking. Up 'til then we didn't have much of an idea. I personally would like to thank the colonials for providing their demonstration.” At that, even the admiral laughed. Actually, the chance to watch a battle from a single point had helped. At Miller's behest
, he spent it at her sensor console. Now, she had passive sensors in high polar orbit above the gas giant. Even when the skunks were on the other side of the monster, she knew where they were. That started him thinking. Support didn't have to be all-inclusive. At the right second, an extra thumb on the scale could be all they needed. He outlined that help to the admiral.

  As she listened, her head slowly began to nod. When he finished, she shook her head. “I'd hoped for something more, but I can't fault what you've done. Nobody on my staff has come up with anything better. We'll do it your way.” She then summarized a set of drills and maneuvers she intended for the next two days. Several captains groaned behind their hands. Apparently, she had worked her squadron hard while he was gone.

  It showed; the sortie went smartly. Ships backed out in an established order and were in battle line from the get-go. This admiral had no emotional attachment to the head of the line. Drills saw the ships forming multiple columns and cones with the flag in the best position to command, wherever that might be.

  Mattim and Ding found themselves working hard in the new dance of warship with warship. While individual ships jinked around in their own space to avoid the laser bolts that were not here at the moment, coordinated maneuvers had to be perfect. This admiral knew how she wanted to use her ships, and her captains knew their parts well. Wise woman. Mattim found himself looking forward to the next encounter with the colonials, even if he was, once more, tag in charlie.

  His wait was much briefer than expected.

  They'd just pulled a pass by the gas giant near Beta Station, using its mass to slingshot the entire formation into higher acceleration, when comm called the bridge.

  “Colonials are one jump out from ELM-0129. Task force will lay a course for Gamma jump and maintain two-gee acceleration. We go through the jump fast, but steady as a rock. This time we surprise the colonials. Admiral sends.”

  Mattim glanced around. He'd hoped for another week of practice drills. Sandy shook her head. “Should never have let that woman in on our secret.” Then she laughed. “But if I got to go, I'd rather follow a gutsy gal like her into a fight.”