No Plan Survives

by L. D. Robinson

  “So, it’s important to obey the Spirits,” she said. “You know, it’s the same principle with military obedience.”

  He scoffed. “I don’t see how.”

  “The commander is the most experienced, the most knowledgeable, the most well-educated, and therefore the wisest person in the organization. He or she will have seen other similar situations, and the outcome of similar decisions. All that experience will inform the commander about what to decide, what orders to give.”

  “That’s hardly the same.”

  “It’s all we have now.” She wasn’t certain she should say this, but she had to make her point. “Now that the Spirits are gone, all you have is the experience and knowledge of those who’ve been around longer.”

  “And we’re supposed to follow this commander, without thinking for ourselves?”

  “Well,” she said, “you do have to think for yourself.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “More contradictions!”

  “You have to figure out how to do what you’ve been ordered to do,” she said.

  “This is all very confusing.”

  “You’ll catch on.”

  “I sincerely doubt it,” Fmedg said. “In my opinion, your reign of orders and drills is about to come to an end.” With that, he marched out of the room, head held high, eyebrows arched, looking down at her with a smug expression.

  Mehta closed her eyes as the door slid shut. That statement hadn’t sounded like a prediction, but more like a threat.

  She was going to have to watch her back now.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  As Mehta walked to her room, her feet drug on the deck like two lead blobs. How long had she been up? She had to get some rest.

  But Fmedg’s words haunted her. She wouldn’t be able to sleep until she’d put his prediction out of her mind, but that was going to be hard, since most Mralans were, indeed, reacting negatively to her commands. She had to get some advice.

  She found Trel coming the other way, and she leaned against the wall by her door and waved him to a stop. “I need to talk to you.”

  “You’re tired.”

  “Tonight.”

  He looked at her door, and Mehta imagined he was wondering if there was going to be a repeat of what had happened the night before. But then he said, “All right.”

  She opened the door, and he followed her inside, walking directly to a chair near the window. Outside, streaks of light swished past them in colorful patterns that made no sense.

  He motioned for her to take the other chair. “What’s up?”

  She sat, uncertain she would be able to stay awake in such a soft seat. “I need to know how people are reacting to the experiment.”

  “They’re doing what you tell them.”

  “But on an emotional level?”

  He sighed and looked away for a moment. “I feel resistance all over the ship.”

  “I was afraid of that,” she said, then explained to him what Fmedg had foretold. “How do I deal with this?”

  He stared at her, like he was waiting for her to talk. So unlike a human man. They would be jumping in with ideas for how to fix the problem. And right now, that was exactly what she needed, not someone who was going to listen while she bared her soul.

  “Any ideas?”

  “I think when you tell them why they should obey, they don’t believe you.”

  “How can they not? I’ve explained it the best way I know how.”

  “They understand what you’re saying. They just don’t believe it.”

  “Then what do I need to do differently?”

  He turned his head, so he was looking out the window. The colorful streams of Netherspace reflected in his eyes and glowed on his salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Trel,” she said.

  He looked back at her, his expression solemn. “I don’t know if you want to hear the answer.”

  “Oh, hell!” she said, jumping to her feet and taking a few steps away from him. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want to know.”

  “All right, then,” he said. “But maybe you should sit down.”

  “I can take it.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Tell me,” she said. “Give it to me straight.”

  He nodded, hesitated again, then took a deep breath. “They don’t believe you because you don’t believe it, either.”

  “Bull shit.”

  “Interesting metaphor.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” She suddenly had energy to spare. “You guys can sense feelings, but not thoughts. Don’t tell me you can tell what I believe and what I don’t.”

  “Sometimes you don’t have to sense the actual thoughts,” he said.

  “And how did someone divine that I allegedly don’t believe this?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “They feel your cognitive dissonance.”

  “Cognitive… what?”

  “It means part of you doesn’t really agree.”

  She wanted to laugh, except it was such an incredible accusation she could barely process it. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  He let out a long breath. “Maybe we should go about this differently. Please sit.”

  “I’m too agitated to sit.”

  He smiled. “No dissonance there.”

  “Now you’re getting annoying,” she said, “trying to prove you can sense this kind of stuff. I don’t believe it.”

  “All right. Then answer this question: why do you obey orders?”

  “Because a military unit cannot function well when people don’t obey orders.”

  He nodded. “I know you believe that.”

  “Okay. That’s settled.”

  “No. I think you believe that’s why people under your supervision should obey your orders. But that wasn’t my question. Why do you obey orders?”

  Son of a bitch. How could he be saying this? “Same reason.”

  He sighed. “Do you want to know what the problem is? Do you want a solution?”

  “Damn it! Of course I do!” She paced another few steps. “I just don’t understand what you’re getting at. I obey orders. I believe in obeying lawful orders. I’ve done it my entire career.”

  “And you’ve never groused about it?” He lifted his brows in a look that told her he was trying to be conciliatory.

  “Maybe I’ve had a few complaints, but I never voice them,” she said. “And I always obey, even if I think the decision is stupid.”

  “Can you give me an example?”

  “Yeah,” she said, then stopped cold. Damn. She had planned to disobey General Turley’s orders if her unit was given the task of rescuing kidnapped civilians. But then again, she hadn’t faced that situation, so she needed another example. “When we were preparing to repel the Dakh Hhargash, I thought my unit should have been the main effort, not some stupid infantry unit.”

  He nodded. “Then why did you obey those orders?”

  She rolled her eyes. “In that particular case, I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t have the authority to countermand the orders that were being given, and the transportation arrangements that were being made.”

  “So, it wasn’t because you believe obeying orders is important.”

  She sighed. “Okay. You made your point. But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe it.”

  “Maybe we need another example.”

  “I can’t think of anything else right now.” She unwound her arms and rubbed her hands over her face.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s take that as a given. You believe it’s important to obey orders, for the proper functioning of the unit.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are there any other reasons you obey orders?”

  She dropped her hands to her side and looked at him. “There are lots of reasons people do it.” Now, a dark premonition bubbled inside her belly. Damn it, where was this going? Why did he have to ask about her reasons?

  “Such
as?”

  She looked away. “A soldier might obey simply because he’ll get in trouble if he doesn’t.”

  “That’s a good one,” Trel said, his voice brightening.

  “Are you saying I do that?”

  “Do you?”

  “Don’t answer a question with another question. It’s a good way to start an argument.”

  He leaned his head back in the chair, his smile soft. “All right. Yes. That’s one of the reasons you follow orders.”

  She stared at him for a moment, breath stuck in her belly, chest muscles tightened. Was he right? Was that all it was? Surely there were other reasons. She wasn’t just trying to keep from getting court martialed.

  No, there was more to it. But she wasn’t going to say that one.

  “Why else?” he asked.

  “Because it’s a way to set a good example.”

  “No, I want the other one. The one you didn’t want to say.”

  “Damn it, Trel! This is not fair!”

  “I didn’t think you wanted me to be fair. I thought you wanted me to help you solve the problem.”

  She walked back to the chair and fell into it. Her eyes were tired, and she needed to get some sleep. All her energy had just drained out of her body.

  “Why else?”

  “Because I took an oath to obey the lawful orders of the officers appointed over me.”

  He vocalized a loud sigh. “Why else?”

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “There’s at least one more reason,” he said. “And you don’t want to tell me. You’re embarrassed about it.”

  She looked away.

  It was never anything she had consciously thought, never something she had said to herself, never a reason she had been aware of. But it was there, bigger than any other reason, and she wasn’t proud of it.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said.

  “God damn it! I don’t have anything else to say! What do you want from me?”

  He stared at her, his face a mask, his eyes intense, his whole body motionless. She could hear her heart beating, like she’d just run five miles. He would figure it out eventually. He would know her deepest, darkest secret, and then he would lose all respect for her. That would be the worst thing in the universe.

  He took a deep breath, then let it out in a loud sigh. “All right. We can end the conversation here.”

  “Thank you,” she said. The words came out breathy and a lot weaker than she had intended.

  He nodded, then walked toward the door. When he got there, it moved aside, he stepped into the opening, and then he stopped. “Oh, by the way, our compatibility is forty-seven percent.” With that, he stepped into the hallway and the door slid shut.

  That rotten bastard. That filthy little scoundrel. “Trel!” she called out, rushing toward the door. He wasn’t going to get away with dropping that kind of bomb and then just walking away.

  She ran into the hallway. “Trel!” She didn’t know which way to go, since she hadn’t seen his direction of movement. “Trel!”

  He appeared around a corner, brows raised in an innocent expression, like he didn’t realize what he’d done. But he had to know. If he could sense such tiny twinges of guilt to know she was keeping a secret, he had to feel the firestorm of her anger.

  “You wanted me?” he said. His voice was too calm, damn it. That meant his revelation had had the desired effect, and he was reveling in the results.

  “Fuck you,” she said.

  He smiled, a closed mouthed expression, unlike the usual grins he gave her. “I don’t think you meant that literally.”

  “How could you do that to me?”

  “Do what?”

  “You know very well what!”

  He shook his head. “I can tell what you’re feeling, but I can’t—”

  “Don’t give me that crap. You can tell when it’s convenient for you, and you can’t tell when you want to play innocent. I don’t buy it.”

  He blew another sigh in her direction. “What did I do wrong?”

  Her throat closed, and suddenly she couldn’t talk. She couldn’t say it. She shook her head and turned back toward the door. “Go to hell.” Then she stepped back into her room.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “What? I didn’t invite you in here!”

  “You told me to go here. And it is pretty hellish right now.” The corners of his lips turned up in a half-smile.

  And she was melting again. Why was it so difficult to stay angry at him? They were worse than incompatible—forty-seven fucking percent!

  “You wanted something?”

  She covered her mouth and closed her eyes, and two tears popped out, barely grazing the outer edges of her cheeks before they landed with a soft plop on the carpet. “Why did you do this to me?”

  “What?” Well, at least now he sounded kind again, gentle and caring, the way she always expected.

  She swallowed. “Why did you tell me it might be ninety-seven? Why did you let me spend all this time hoping?”

  “I… uh, thought you would have figured it out by now.”

  “Figured it out?” Her voice broke. “We always got along. I thought we were friends.”

  “We are friends,” he said. “But it takes more than that to be compatible mates.”

  “So, things we wouldn’t realize until we were living together, if we were humans.”

  “Something like that.”

  She frowned. “Then how was I supposed to figure it out?”

  “Oh, Spirits,” he whispered, looking out the window, distress showing on his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  She waited, hoping her feelings would go away, wishing this terrible, crushing pain in her heart would stop, wishing her breath would come easily again and her throat would relax. “I think you did mean to hurt me.”

  “Not like… not…” He sighed. “Not like you mean, but I understand.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t explain it any better.”

  She nodded, looking out the window, because she couldn’t bear to look at him anymore, but then she could see his reflection on the glass, and seeing him reminded her that she had loved and lost yet again.

  Maybe she wasn’t compatible with anyone.

  “Did you ever… did you ever feel anything… any attraction to me?”

  “I find you very attractive,” he said, and the inflection in his voice, the sparkle in his eyes, told her he spoke the truth.

  “Then, could we ever, you know, just have a physical relationship?”

  His mouth puckered. “I couldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  Why had she asked him those questions? This was getting so close to inappropriate… no it was inappropriate, totally and completely inappropriate.

  “If I have sex with a woman,” he said, “then I’m bound to her.”

  “Like being married.”

  “And since we’re not compatible, I would be miserable; you would be miserable. It just wouldn’t work out.”

  No casual sex in this society, among these people? What a strange situation.

  “Is there any way to un-bind yourself, after you’ve been bound?”

  “There is,” he said. His voice sounded solemn, grave. “One of the partners has to die. Then the other is unbound.”

  “Damn.”

  “It’s not merely a legal arrangement, like it is for humans.”

  She nodded. “Then I won’t ask again.”

  “Thank you.” He started toward the door. “Can I go now?”

  “Just… Just one more thing.”

  He stopped halfway to the exit and waited.

  She would still have a hard time admitting it, but at least now she knew she wasn’t risking a future relationship. And she needed to solve her problem with the Mralan resistance. She needed to put her thoughts of living with Trel aside and concentrate on now, on
her mission, on her command. That was the important thing.

  “I follow orders because I know if I don’t, I’ll never get promoted.”

  “It’s not a bad reason,” Trel said. “But it is your reason.”

  She closed her eyes. Damn, that really was her reason, her primary reason, practically her only reason. What kind of officer did that make her? What kind of person? Was she as selfish and egotistical as it made her appear? “I’m not sure realizing this will solve anything.”

  “It should help,” he said. “You’ll feel less conflicted when you talk about it. People will notice that.”

  “Yes, well, thank you,” she said. “Now, I need to sleep.”

  “Of course.” He nodded to her, then hurried out. The door slid closed and the lock clicked.

  As she flopped onto the bed and closed her eyes, her last thought seemed to carry her down into a pit of darkness. Why would anyone obey me?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Let’s go ahead and get started,” Colonel Mehta said as she sat in the meeting room. Everyone she had ordered to come was already seated, plus one person she had not invited—Trel.

  “I won’t interrupt,” he had told her before he took his place in the back. But he was there, dark eyes watching hopefully, constantly reminding her of the lives that depended on her and her staff.

  Major Hiranaka nodded. “Ma’am, first we’ll hear from the intelligence officer.”

  Ndrem stepped up to the front, then leaned away from Hiranaka. “Is it so scary?” he said to her in a whisper.

  Hiranaka glared at him.

  “She just wants to do well,” Mehta said.

  “And she thinks she won’t?”

  “Just give us your briefing.”

  Ndrem swallowed. “What I’m asking is, should I be nervous, too? Is there some threat here that I don’t know about?”

  “Only if you don’t get down to business right now.” Mehta looked around the room. “Where’s Ramirez?”

  He smiled, but it was a nervous, trembling expression. “He’s working on something important.”

  Something important? Was that really true, or was he just not wanting to face her again? What this his last act of insubordination? And had he sent poor Ndrem in here to fall on his face without any backup?