by Mel Odom
Last night’s interaction with the corps would hurry things along. Sage figured he’d more than likely be booted out on the first dropship flaring into the heavens, then Gated to the front line or back to his training assignment. Maybe if the Terran Alliance hadn’t been at war, the confrontation with Velesko Kos would have ended what remained of his career.
If there had been a chance that he would get booted out of the military, he thought he might not have pushed the situation so aggressively. Even as he considered that, though, he knew he’d had no choice. Terracina’s death was unacceptable. Especially when Sage knew who was responsible. What he’d done had to be done. Someone had to take a more deliberate stand than the diplomatic liaisons would.
Sage hadn’t become a soldier so that good men could die at the hands of murderers and thieves hiding behind corp protection. He could not abide that. If he was unable to prevent those deaths, then he would up the cost of such actions.
Other soldiers slept in the cells around him. The combined stench of boozy breath and body odor mixed with the scent of chemical cleaners and artificial fragrance to become a foul fog that had been present to a lesser degree in the barracks.
The brig was old fashioned, constructed of prefab blocks dropped from low-orbit cargo ships. The pieces had been towed into their present configurations, then snapped together. In some areas, the joints hadn’t fit quite smoothly. Plascrete covered seams that had allowed the jungle to wriggle in.
A soldier came by with a backpack flamethrower and spat fire over the delicate tendrils that had crawled in overnight. Scorch marks showed the process had been done time and time again. The soldier entered one of the cells, hosed a patch of growth, and endured the curses of a female soldier still in the throes of hangover.
Breakfast arrived a short time later, wheeled in on a cart with squeaking wheels.
Sage accepted and ate the unappetizing fare: toast and soymeal and some kind of processed protein-sub, and drank the weak tea.
Then he waited.
1137 Hours Zulu Time
Two military policemen arrived just as Sage was beginning to think he was going to have lunch in the brig before he heard anything from the brass. The other soldiers had woken or gotten roused and were sent on their way. Most of them had studied Sage with sullen and suspicious stares. Many of them had whispered Terracina’s name.
Sage didn’t address any of them, just sat on the cot and waited, elbows resting on knees, eyes forward. He didn’t try to guess what would happen to him.
Both MPs were big men who looked well-versed in violence. They worked well as a team, moving fluidly and staying out of each other’s way as they dealt with Sage.
“Hands,” the shorter one said. He had broader shoulders than the taller man and his nose wasn’t quite in line anymore. Scar tissue clustered under his eyes.
Sage approached the cell door and turned to present his back to the men. The taller man clamped on the restraints.
“Step forward and clear the door.”
When Sage did, the shorter man waved a keycard in front of the reader. The red light on the locking mechanism switched to green and the door rattled in its moorings as it slid to the side. Sage waited.
“All right, Top, you can join us.”
Sage stepped forward.
The shorter guard faced him but stayed out of range of a kick. “Are you going to be a problem?”
Sage quirked his lips at that. “If I was to break out of this place, Corporal, somehow get past you and your buddy—”
“Ain’t gonna happen,” the taller man promised.
“—where would I go?” Sage finished.
The shorter guard nodded. “Just wanted to make sure we were on the same vector.”
“We are.”
“I’m Culpepper. That’s Tobin.”
Sage nodded.
Culpepper shrugged. “This ain’t personal, Top. Just doing our jobs.”
“No sweat, Corporal.”
Culpepper grimaced. “If it was up to me, I wouldn’t have you in restraints. Those are the major’s idea. I would have told him they weren’t necessary, but the major, he don’t listen when he don’t wanna listen. And he don’t wanna listen most of the time. Truth to tell, me and Tobin like what you did to DawnStar last night. We heard that the corp was behind the ambush that killed Sergeant Terracina.”
“They were.” Sage didn’t want to go into it.
“Yeah, everybody knows it, but we ain’t been able to call them on it on account of the diplomatic oversight committee we got watching every move we make.”
“Don’t we have somewhere we have to be, Corporal?”
Culpepper nodded. “We do, Top. Just wanted you to know that more than a few soldiers here at the fort appreciate what you tried to do last night.” He put a hand on Sage’s shoulder and guided him forward. “Gotta take you to the major, and that’s not gonna be a fun time. You get out alive, I’ll stand you to a beer.”
Office of Major Finkley
Charlie Company HQ
1206 Hours Zulu Time
Even though Sage knew Major Finkley was waiting for him and was undoubtedly looking forward to the encounter, the major kept Sage and the two MPs waiting for ten minutes before the receptionist passed them through to Finkley’s office. If the waiting was supposed to unnerve Sage, the tactic failed.
“Corporals Culpepper and Tobin reporting with the prisoner, Major.” Culpepper brought Sage to a halt ten feet from Finkley’s large desk. The corporal and his partner both saluted, but Finkley ignored them.
The office was large, spacious, and was decked out in furniture several grades above military standard. Instead of metal, the desk was inlaid wood, a striking piece of deep purple and cream woods lacquered to take on a dark luster. Someone had tucked the hardware seamlessly into the grain so that the holo seemed to rise from the wood.
The two chairs in front of the desk were equally impressive, concoctions of comfort and elegance. Everything sat on a wooden floor that overlaid the prefab metal. Light maple panels covered the walls except where built-in shelves stood and held several items that Sage couldn’t identify.
Finkley’s gaze raced over the transparent holo hovering over his desktop. Three or four screens of information lay open to him. He manipulated the screens, quickly shifting through datastreams and images, which disappeared in muted flashes.
From the other side of the holos, Sage couldn’t see the information, but he thought most of them had to do with Terran Alliance trade data, not MilNet intel. Images and videos accompanied some of the personal missives, and most of those were from attractive women that looked like corp execs.
After a few more moments, during which Finkley worked with impressive speed and certainty, the major planted both palms against the desk and the holos turned into pixel dust and disappeared. The lights faded from Finkley’s too-perfect features.
“Sage.” Finkley spoke the name like it was something foul. “Do you realize what that stunt you pulled last night has done?”
“No sir.” Sage knew that pointing out DawnStar’s involvement in the ambush that had killed so many Terran soldiers wasn’t an acceptable response.
“I’ll tell you.” Finkley placed his hands together before him and rested his elbows on the desk, leaning into them in a theatric pose. “You’ve got DawnStar up in arms, and their powers-that-be are eagerly reminding us that we have satellite intel only by their good graces, not to mention space-station accessibility. A space station, I will add, that not only adds support to Fort York, but also provides offices to the Terran Alliance Diplomatic Embassy, giving them a certain cachet over other political rivals onplanet, a cachet that those people appreciate. Therefore, not only is our military presence threatened aboard that space station, but so is that of our embassy personnel.”
Sage stood silently, thinking that his assignment to Makaum was possibly going to be the shortest post he’d ever been on. He considered, only briefly, of speaking out agains
t DawnStar and about the ambush, but he knew such an effort was doomed to failure.
“Not only that, but you somehow triggered a certain amount of saber rattling on the part of the Phrenorians, which has everyone nervous.” Finkley’s eyes narrowed. “Can you explain to me what that was about?”
“No sir.” Sage knew he had nothing to do with that, and he remained curious about the Phrenorian involvement himself.
Dropping his hands, Finkley leaned back in his chair. “Well, you’d better figure out what happened, Sergeant Sage, because there are a lot of people—important people—who woke up this morning and want to know.”
“I have no idea, sir.”
Finkley scowled even more darkly, but it was all theatrical posturing. Sage got the sense that the man didn’t care, that Sage was just a bump in the career path Finkley had chosen and would be summarily dealt with.
The major shook his head. “You’re lucky those DawnStar bashhounds didn’t burn a hole through your head.”
Sage didn’t mention that he didn’t think that would happen, with Velesko’s life hanging in the balance as well.
“And you’re even luckier that an all-out war didn’t break out last night.” Finkley took in a breath and let it out. “There is some speculation about your relationship with the Phrenorians, Sergeant. Our intel division is checking through your past involvement with them.”
“The only past involvement I have with the Phrenorians is killing them, sir. I got really good at it till I got sidelined.”
Finkley grimaced and shook his head. “I’ve been through your field service report. You weren’t sidelined. For the last six years, you were given a hero’s posting as a drill instructor in recognition of your efforts.”
“I didn’t request that posting.” Sage clamped his jaws in order to keep from cursing. “I didn’t want it. Sir. All I wanted was the opportunity to serve with my fellow soldiers.”
“Your fellow soldiers had a bad habit of getting themselves killed around you. I’ve seen the after-action reports. Analysts were torn between declaring you the luckiest soldier to ever take the field, or a master survivor. Now, after last night, some of them are wondering if you’d been protected by the Phrenorians. And why.”
Sage barely bit back a scathing reply. Protesting his innocence would have just been a waste of breath. Finkley had already chosen his course of action.
“On all of those worlds where you served, the Phrenorians have penetrated our communications and were privy to information they shouldn’t have known.” Finkley regarded Sage with suspicious speculation. “Given the situation that occurred last night, some of those analysts are reevaluating the possibility that you are working with the enemy.”
“That isn’t true.” Sage couldn’t keep himself from responding even though he knew the major’s words were designed solely to elicit a response from him.
Finkley splayed his hands across his desk. “Perhaps not, but people are asking questions. Rest assured, Sergeant, that you have pretty much ended your military career.”
The statement hit Sage like a particle blast. He suddenly felt dizzy, like he was weightless and being sucked into a black hole. He couldn’t be released from the army. There was a war on. And if he wasn’t a soldier, he wasn’t anything.
“General Whitcomb has been apprised of your activities. I have made the recommendation that you be dishonorably discharged for insubordination and conduct unbecoming a soldier.” Finkley stared at Sage with a calculated gaze. “There is also some talk of holding you accountable for the murder of Sergeant Terracina given the actions on the night of the sergeant’s death. In addition to getting kicked out of the military, you may spend the rest of your natural life in a military prison.”
Sage kept silent with difficulty. He wanted to know what Whitcomb had to say, and he reeled while trying to comprehend how much pressure was coming back on him. This response was above and beyond anything he’d expected.
The office door opened.
Finkley growled a curse. “Corporal Rusch, I told you I wanted everything held until—”
“Corporal Rusch was ordered to stand down.” Colonel Halladay strode into the room.
Finkley stood with obvious reluctance that was a couple degrees short of actual insubordination and saluted. “Colonel, I didn’t know you would be joining us.”
“Neither did I.” Halladay’s tone was hard. “I thought you understood that Master Sergeant Sage was supposed to be brought to me. Immediately. Those were the instructions I’d given. I even checked them after I discovered Master Sergeant Sage was brought to you first. I was very clear.”
“Yes sir. I thought I would help you clear your calendar.”
Halladay’s sharp reply cut like a nano-whip. “When I give instructions, Major, I have already done all the thinking that’s required.”
A dark flush crept up Finkley’s face from his neck. His jaw worked for a moment, but whatever he was on the verge of saying was swallowed. “Yes sir.”
“You and I will discuss this at a later date.”
“Yes sir.” The threat caused Finkley to pale a little.
Halladay turned to Culpepper and Tobin. “Remove the master sergeant’s restraints.”
“Yes sir.” Culpepper keyed the shackles and they opened, releasing Sage’s wrists. At the same time, turning so that neither of the officers could see him, the corporal winked.
Sage understood then how Halladay had found out about the visit to Finkley’s office.
Halladay gazed around the office. “It’s been a long time since I’ve visited your office.”
“Yes sir.”
“It’s more elegant than I remember.”
An uneasy look filled Finkley’s face and he reddened. “It’s been a while, sir.”
“You’ve acquired a lot of things.”
“Yes sir. Gifts from the diplomatic team, the Makaum Quass, and others who appreciate the work I—we—do. As you know, I see a lot of those people here. I’ve made modifications to make the office more amenable to receiving those guests.”
Halladay fixed the major with his gaze. “The next time I’m in this office, which will be within the next twenty-four hours, I promise you, I expect it to be returned to military specs. Those accommodations are fine for the people you see.”
“Sir—”
“I trust that order left no possibility of confusion.”
Finkley’s nostrils flared. “No confusion, sir.”
“Good.” Halladay turned to Sage. “You’re with me, Top.”
Not certain if he was jumping from the frying pan into the fire, Sage nodded. “Yes sir.” He followed Halladay from the room.
NINETEEN
Office of Colonel Halladay
Charlie Company
Fort York
1219 Hours Zulu Time
Halladay led the way into his office and tossed his cover onto the hat rack in the corner with a casual flick of his wrist. Walking behind the desk, so much smaller than the one in Finkley’s office, he took a seat.
Sage stood at attention in front of the colonel’s desk.
“Take a seat, Top.”
“Yes sir.” Sage slid into the nearest seat.
Halladay narrowed his eyes in thought. “The general is not happy with you.”
“I expect not, sir.”
“You’ve caused him a lot of trouble this morning. I’ve spent the last few hours listening to him chew me out.”
Sage didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
“There was some talk of putting me on report for not having better control of my people.”
“That was not my intention, sir.”
“I know that, but I’m irritated, because if I’d known what you were going to do, I would have been prepared for it. As it was, I ended up blindsided and scrambling. Just so you know, that’s not a good place to be with General Whitcomb, who intends to ride out his glory years as quietly as possible.”
“Tha
t was not—”
Halladay held up a hand. “Stow the apologies. We’re where we are. Let’s deal with the fallout.”
Sage lapsed into silence.
“I could have gotten you from Finkley’s office sooner. I chose not to because I wanted to you to see the grinder that was waiting on you. I trust he told you that there was some talk of a dishonorable discharge?”
“Yes sir.”
“For the record, that option was brought up. I blocked it.” Halladay’s blue eyes flashed. “In fact, I told the general that your presence at that club last night was on my orders. Needless to say, that extended our little chat throughout most of the morning, and I got a sharply worded letter in my personal file.”
That surprised Sage. “Why would you do that, sir?”
Halladay opened the bottom drawer of his desk, took out a bottle, and two glasses. He poured dusky amber liquid into both glasses. “Because Sergeant Richard Terracina was a good man and didn’t deserve what those animals did to him. And because standing up for what you did was the right thing to do. Not the smartest. I want to be clear on that.” He pushed one of the glasses across to Sage. “I joined the military because I wanted to make a difference. My father died fighting the Phrenorians on Ralkko Nine.”
“That was a bloody bit of business, sir.”
“It was, and when we’re drinking together, Sage, drop the sir.” Halladay held up his glass. “To Sergeant Richard Terracina, one of the finest soldiers I’ve known.”
Sage raised his glass as well, and they drank. The potent alcohol tasted smoky and Sage knew it hadn’t been locally produced. The drink hit his stomach like napalm and settled into a warm glow.
Halladay poured them another round. “I’m here with General Whitcomb because I know serving under him will fast-track my career. It already has. I’m not just doing it for me. I’m doing it for the Alliance and for the soldiers I serve with. I’m good at what I do, Sage. I just haven’t had much of a chance to do it here.” He picked up his glass. “Until now. After that ambush, the gloves are off. General Whitcomb agreed with me, reluctantly, but the corps went too far. They’re about to find that out.”