Firemask

by Chris Bunch

  "All aircraft and spaceships are to return immediately to their home bases, land, and await further orders.

  "Remember, we Musth wish only peace. Obey our orders, and find your place in a greater future."

  There were four faces on the split screen in Caud Rao's office—his regimental commanders.

  "What do we do, sir?" Mil Fitzgerald asked.

  Rao took a deep breath.

  "There's nothing we can do. Not right now," he said glumly. "We've been ordered to surrender. We'll haul down the colors, and do like they told us to. Confine everyone to barracks, march them to chow, no leave, no passes, and keep your noncoms circulating so nobody's got a chance to consider starting a private war.

  "Maintain discipline, keep your troops in hand, and don't give the bastards the slightest excuse to take any further action. Especially watch your hotheads. You know who they are. Don't punish them, but don't let them start something the Force won't be able to finish."

  Mil Chel Reese, CO, First Regiment, grimaced.

  "Aren't there any options?''

  Rao sadly shook his head.

  "What should we do?" Dr. Froude asked Dec Ho Kang.

  She thought a moment.

  "We sure don't want all this work to get swept up by the Musth. We better get all of the charts together, all the disks. Right now. We'll hide you two somewhere, probably over on Mullion Island."

  The two scientists hurried to obey. Ho Kang touched numbers on a com.

  "Regimental laundry," a worried voice said.

  "This is Dec Ho Kang, II Section," Ho Kang said. "Three of us are coming over. We have some material we don't want anyone to know about for a while."

  "Anyone," the voice said, coming alive, "like furry anyones?"

  "This com could be tapped," Ho warned. "But you're thinking right."

  "We can do that," the voice promised. "Allee time hidee hooch in it, since this ain't a clean line. Nevah nobody lookee, get to glow in dark if they dumb enough to do, trefoil signs all over. Whatever you've got, if it's smaller'n a Grierson, nobody'll think of there."

  "Screw this noise!" Cent Elles said angrily. "We're just supposed to sit here and let them run over us?"

  "We're already run over," Ben Dill said calmly. "And those were our orders."

  "Screw them, too!" Elles looked around the ready room, out the window at the hidden jungle base on Mullion Island. "I say we go after the goddamned Musth! Maybe they'll take us out, but at least we'll have taken some with us!"

  "That's not what Caud Rao ordered," an alt said.

  "I'm base commander here, dammit!" Elles said. "Here's what we're going to do. Man your ships, take off, find targets, any Musth force or aircraft, and kill them. Shake off any pursuers, then return here for fuel, rearming, another mission."

  "And if we've got too many on our butts to shake, what're we supposed to do?" Dill asked. "Let them find this base, or should we just bail out and take our chances?"

  "Under no circumstances are you to reveal the existence of this base," Elles snapped. "Take whatever actions are necessary!"

  He picked up a mike, touched the red sensor that turned on PAs around the field.

  "Uh, sir," Ben Dill said. "One other thing?"

  "What?" Elles said irritably.

  Dill's snapped punch took him in the diaphragm, and Elles whuffed, folded. Ben thumped a fist on the back of his exposed neck, and the officer collapsed. The huge alt shut the microphone off and looked down at the base commander, shaking his head sadly.

  "I think that's a court-martial offense," he said. "Maybe Ben loses his sash over this."

  "Being busted's better'n pointless suicide," another pilot said. "Especially 'cause I don't see any way we could get more'n five meters off the ground without getting wiped out."

  "Maybe so," Dill said. "But this is the first time I've ever backed off from a fight, and it tastes bad. Really bad."

  "I'm not a happy trooper," Garvin Jaansma said quietly.

  "Shut up," Njangu said. "We're hard cases, remember? Not sentimental schnooks."

  The two, dressed in combat camouflage, fully armed, stood to one side of the Camp Mahan parade ground.

  At its head were three flagpoles, the center flying the Confederation flag, the other two the Cumbre ensign and the Force colors.

  The officer of the guard, a ranking dec , and the daily guard detachment stood at the salute as a seven-man detail marched to the poles, unfastened the lines, and made ready to lower the colors. A bugler with his archaic instrument stood ready.

  A shout echoed across the parade ground.

  "Stop!"

  A man with a blaster lurched from behind a building. He was in his forties, grizzled and hard-bitten. He was familiar to Njangu, and he puzzled, got it. The man's name was Barker, no, Barken, a long-server from somewhere out-system, who'd arrived with the Force on its deployment to Cumbre. Barken had worn stripes, had them taken away, had them given back again. He was considered a good field soldier, had won medals in the rising, had been promoted yet again, then had been reduced to the ranks for throwing a two-week drunk.

  "Stop, goddammit!" He fired a round into the air, and everyone froze.

  "We're not lowerin' the friggin' flag, goddammit!" He stumbled closer to the guard detail, and the dec's hand slid toward his holstered pistol.

  "Hold it, soldier," he shouted back. "Get rid of the gun, and freeze!"

  "Shove that up yer ass. Sir," Barken said, "I've been with the Force more'n twenty years, and we've never surrendered to nobody, and we're not frigging starting now!"

  "You're disobeying orders!"

  "Nobody oughta be obeying those goddamned orders! What are we, winks that fold up without even one lousy frigging fight? What the hell is this? What the hell is going on!"

  Another round whined overhead.

  "Soldier, I gave you a lawful order," the guard commander snapped. "Drop that blaster!"

  He unsnapped his holster flap.

  "Shut yer friggin' mouth, sir!" Barken called. "We're not taking the flag down, not without somebody shooting me first."

  The officer had his pistol half-drawn. Someone—perhaps two someones—was going to get burnt down in the next few seconds.

  "Stop!" Garvin shouted, somewhat surprised at himself. His own firearm was in his hand, and he was trotting onto the field.

  Both Barken and the officer of the guard turned.

  "What the hell are you doing, Alt ?" the guard officer shouted.

  Garvin paid no attention.

  "You, Barken. Get rid of that stupid gun!"

  Barken glowered, started to say something.

  "Do what he says," Njangu said calmly. He stood to one side of Garvin, his own pistol in hand, but held loosely, pointing down at the ground. "You're betting into a pat hand."

  Barken's lips thinned, then he slumped and tossed the blaster away. It clattered on the tarmac.

  "Thanks, Alt …" the guard officer said.

  "Be quiet," Garvin said. He wasn't sure what he was doing or why he was doing it, knowing he was breaking at least as many regulations as Barken.

  " Tweg , bring the flags down. Bugler, we won't have any music. No triumphs, no dirges either."

  The bugler nodded shakily, tucked his instrument back under his arm. The warrant in charge of the flag detail looked perplexed. Garvin waved the pistol at him.

  "Follow your orders, Twegl"

  The noncom obeyed, and the pulleys squeaked loudly in the silence.

  "You," Garvin said, pointing at two of the men. "Case the Cumbre flag."

  "Yessir," one said.

  "You others," Jaansma continued. "Take the Confederation flag and the Force ensign. Cut them apart."

  "Sir?"

  Njangu heard a sound, spun, saw one of the guards stealthily unslinging his blaster. Njangu fired, and the bolt blew a meter-wide hole in the paving behind the man. He jumped, dropped his blaster.

  "Stand easy, friend," Yoshitaro said in a mild voice. "This is
just getting interesting."

  "You heard my order. Cut the flags into little pieces," Garvin ordered. "Every man here is to get one."

  He spun toward the guard detail, not waiting to see that his orders were followed.

  "I want every one of you to take a piece of those flags and remember what they stand for," he ordered. "If carrying it's too much for you, give it to a friend, someone who wants to fight. Someone who won't let anyone, not man, not Musth, take it from him without a battle.

  "We lost today. But this isn't the end of the war. This is just the beginning."

  Chapter 10

  "There is a difference, young alts , between being a damned-fool firebrand and a warrior," Caud Rao said coldly. "Don't you realize you could have started a firestorm among the men?"

  Garvin started to say something, then clamped his mouth shut. Njangu stood beside him, both in dress uniforms, both frozen statues.

  "Go ahead," Rao said. "I meant that as a rhetorical question, but I'm curious as to your answer."

  "Yessir," Garvin said. "Maybe it could've. But I said this wasn't the time, the place for a fight, and I didn't think I'd be disobeyed."

  "You don't sound especially sorry for what you did," Rao said. He tapped fingernails on his desk, glanced up at Mil Angara, whose face was pointedly blank.

  "Very well," he decided. "Maybe we're going to need some firebrands, although I'm going to have a word with Hedley about the kind of officers he's created.

  "Intelligence and Reconnaissance, Alt Jaansma, is the job description. Not Agitation and Instigation. Remember that.

  "I'm going to give both of you a verbal reprimand. I could have made it a formal reprimand in your record jacket, but I won't have any trouble remembering either of you if you come up before me anytime soon."

  He didn't add that he expected the conquering Musth to vet the records, possibly looking for troublemakers.

  "Dismissed."

  Garvin snapped a salute, and he and Njangu pivoted, marched out of the CO's office. Caud Rao shook his head.

  "There are times I wish I could be young and big-mouthed like those two."

  "No you don't, sir," Angara said. "It just gets you into trouble."

  "As if I'm not in it already." Rao got up, paced to a window. "I wonder how long the Musth will take to figure out what they want to do with us. I'm surprised, as efficiently as they came down, their war leader didn't have any contingencies for the Force."

  "Maybe," Angara suggested, "they expected us to conveniently fight to the last man."

  Rao considered what he knew about the Musth, nodded slowly. "Possibly. If you're right, that means they aren't particularly gifted at analyzing other beings."

  "We beat them once, didn't we, which might suggest something?"

  "Historical precedent doesn't seem to matter much in combat," Rao said dryly. There was a long silence.

  "Grig, would you mind doing me a favor?"

  "If possible, sir."

  "Could you quietly scout around for one of those pieces of our colors? I'm not at all sure we might not be called on to be like those two in the not-too-distant future, and I think I might need something to remind me how to do proper damned foolishness."

  Angara grinned tightly, reached into a breast pocket, and took out a bit of colorful cloth.

  "Already taken care of, sir, by Alt Penwyth. One for you, and one for me." He handed the piece to Rao, who looked at him quizzically.

  "There's something pretty goddamned frightening about having an exec who knows you better'n you do yourself."

  Planetary Police announced they were "developing several leads" to the unknown bomber, which meant they had nothing.

  The bank officer looked nervously at the two officers.

  "This is irregular. Most irregular!"

  "Just about everything is, these days," Garvin agreed. "I assume you'll need to check this with her attorney. Here's his com number."

  "Yes… yes… that's what should be done."

  The man dithered with sensors, spoke to a secretary, was routed to a courtroom, and then waited while Gy Glenn was brought out of court.

  "This had best be important," he said, scowling as much as he could manage a scowl.

  The banker explained, and now it was Glenn's turn to look astonished.

  "You said the officer is there in person."

  "I am," Jaansma said.

  "Would you swivel the pickup so I can identify him," Glenn requested. "Thank you. That's the man. Would you step out of hearing, please?"

  The banker obeyed.

  " Alt Jaansma, you're sure that's what's best?"

  "I am."

  "I assume your decision has something to do with the, shall we say, change in the current political situation?"

  "Yes."

  "Would you object to my checking with Miss Mellusin, sorry, Mrs. Mellusin?"

  "I wouldn't," Garvin said. "But I think we've got to move quickly."

  Glenn gnawed at his lower lip.

  "Call that banker back over. I'll com her, but you can proceed with the transaction immediately. Our new friends from elsewhere, should they learn of this, might well object, so we'd best get the matter finished as quickly as we can."

  The banker listened, looked even more astonished, and shut down the com.

  "You have proper security, I assume?"

  Njangu, without speaking, lifted an arm. From outside the door, Monique Lir and half a dozen soldiers in full combat garb, doubled into the bank.

  "We have three armored transports and a gunship outside," Njangu said. "I don't think we have to worry about being held up."

  "You appear to have this matter well thought out," the banker said. "In what form would you like it?"

  "Five- and ten-credit coins," Garvin said.

  "Very, very irregular," the banker said. "But it's good that you came to the central branch. We can manage the transaction, but any other branch would have their vaults depleted."

  Neither soldier commented.

  "Miss Yazeth," the banker said, "conduct these people to our vault. I'll give you instructions as we go."

  Half an hour later, soldiers began trundling heavy bags of coins through the bank and loading them into the waiting Griersons. The banker stood watching, the confirmation from Jasith Mellusin no comfort, for he looked like he was about to start crying seeing money he secretly thought of as his vanish into the hands of goons and thugs.

  "The situation," Loy Kouro said cheerfully, "may not be as disastrous as everyone thought."

  Jasith carefully put her fork down. They were having a late breakfast on one of the terraces of her mansion on the Heights.

  "And what might that mean?"

  "I'm starting to believe we can survive, maybe even prosper, working with these Musth. They're hardly the monsters some paint them."

  "Prosper?" Jasith said. "Loy, they've taken us over, said anybody out after dark will be shot, anybody in groups of ten or more'll have the same thing done to them… I don't see how you can call that prospering."

  "Oh, that's just typical soldier talk," Kouro said. "Soldiers always overreact to everything. Give it a few weeks, let them see what happened to Aesc was an anomaly, they'll settle down."

  Jasith balled up her napkin, tossed it down beside her.

  "What about the penalties they're planning on levying?"

  "That'll just have to be the price of doing business. Look at it as just another tax. Except that it won't be levied forever."

  "Who says?"

  "Why would they want to put us out of business?" Kouro asked reasonably.

  "So they can own it altogether," Jasith said. "I don't believe you're saying this. Doesn't it bother you that anytime they want to make an announcement about anything they just waltz into Matin , and take it over?"

  "Surely it bothers me," Kouro said. "But I'm enough of an adult to know you can't always kick against the pricks."

  "I wonder what your father would've done?"

 
; "He's gone," Kouro said, voice sharpening."

  "I'm in charge now."

  "No, Loy. You're not in charge of anything," Jasith said. "The Musth have all the cards, and they're playing them as they want."

  "Typical miner," Loy said. "All you see is what's in front of you."

  "What I do see is they'll want to buy my ore, at a price they'll set, and I'll bet it isn't one that I'll laugh about."

  "As I said, some things you just have to live with."

  "So says the mighty publisher," Jasith said. "One who speaks for all Cumbre."

  "What the hell's the matter with you lately?" Kouro said, tone hurt. "You're always on edge, ready to jump down my throat."

  "I merely said I thought you were talking like either a fool or what some would call a traitor," Jasith said evenly.

  Kouro was on his feet.

  "So that's it!"

  "What's it?"

  "You and that damned soldier you were screwing be-fore we got married… are you seeing him again? Playing a little hide the sausage on the side?"

  "I'm not seeing Garvin," Jasith said, coming to her feet, chair crashing back. "I married you , didn't I? And you were the one who proposed, weren't you?"

  "I wonder how I got tricked into that," Kouro said. "Maybe so you could be sleeping around with people below our class, and nobody's say anything if, oh, look, there's a child. What comes next, Jasith? You going to start bedding 'Raum, one in every orifice?"

  Jasith came around the small table, slapped him. Kouro jerked back, hit her in the mouth with his fist. Jasith cried out in surprise, then stumbled and fell.

  Kouro leaned over her.

  "Don't you ever do that to me again! Not ever!"

  He stamped from the room. A few moments later, she heard his speedster lift away from the landing deck, drive away at full power.

  Jasith sat, stunned, for a time. She lifted a hand to her lips, wiped them, looked at the traces of blood on her fingers.

  "No," she said quietly. "I won't ever do that to you again."

  "I wondered how long it'd take them to get around to us," Garvin said. He and Njangu were "lounging" near a seemingly unmanned gun position, in the event things escalated.