March of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  “How’s the training?” she asked.

  “Oh, great,” he said with a grin, half-glancing at her as he gathered his gear. “I’m doing well with my white belt of purity. Soon I’ll be promoted to yellow belt of humility. Then eventually orange belt of servility…”

  “Jack,” she said, standing carefully at arm’s length. “Please look at me.”

  He did, and she watched his young face morph from the mild surprise of her request through confusion, then realization, then shock. He stared at her in silence.

  “I’m still alive,” she said.

  His eyes flicked across her features, looking her up and down before boring into her.

  “Are you a clone?”

  “What?” She took a half step back. “No, I’m Katja… for real. I wasn’t killed in the attack on Longreach, and I’ve been in Special Forces ever since.”

  “But… your family thinks you’re dead.”

  “And officially I am.”

  “But I thought you were dead!”

  “I’m sorry, Jack.”

  His face twisted in anger, and she saw the punch coming. She knocked it away, stepping back to keep her distance from Jack’s follow-through. Then, remarkably, he lowered to one knee and bowed his head, his body shuddering…

  …with laughter.

  He chortled quietly at first, then tilted his head back in a guffaw that filled the dojo. He rose back to his feet and sized her up again with bright eyes.

  “You, madame, are a bitch.”

  Relief flooded through her, a sincere smile spreading across her face.

  “It’s good to see you again, flyboy.”

  “If I try to give you a hug are you going to bat me aside again?”

  She responded by stepping toward him, arms reaching out to wrap around his shoulders. He was radiating heat, and the fabric of his gui was unpleasantly damp, but she didn’t care. He was Jack Mallory, boy wonder, and he was here in the flesh. Life suddenly took on a little more meaning.

  * * *

 

  Katja braced her mind against the flood of data Jack pushed toward her, following as many lines of thought as she could but still not keeping up. The connections he’d made between commuter movements around the Pacific Rim, energy spikes, consumer downloads, State transport schedules, and even the damned weather… they were remarkable. It made her head hurt just trying to grasp the overall conclusions he presented.

  “Very good,” Korolev said, seated next to her, “but remember to filter out the irrelevant data when you share it with us.”

  “I’m not always sure if something is going to be irrelevant,” Jack replied.

  “At first, no,” Korolev countered, “but when you present to us, you should’ve already figured out what info we need. If you bombard us with everything you’ve investigated, it gets confusing.”

  Jack nodded, frowning thoughtfully. “I guess sometimes I’m still working through possible connections. I’ll have a solid web of analysis for you, but I’m still chasing secondary ideas.”

  “It’s great stuff, Jack,” Katja said. “I’ve been living the Cloud for over a year, and I’m having trouble keeping up with you. You’re a natural.”

  “Too bad there aren’t black belts for Cloud analysis,” he said with a wry grin.

  “You’ll get there,” she said, jabbing at him and easily beating his late block.

  “Stop that. I have a beautiful mind.”

  Korolev rose from the table. His amused expression encompassed both of them.

  “You’re coming together nicely as a team. Not long now, and I’ll send you on a field exercise to see how well you interact in the real world.”

  Katja glanced at Jack, watching his expression stiffen. Korolev departed and they were alone in the briefing room, facing each other across the table.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Taking this stuff into the real world,” he said. “Sounds a little scary.”

  “It’ll be something routine, probably on Earth.”

  “Why Earth?”

  “We won’t have to worry about environmentals, and the Cloud is busiest there.” She rose from her seat and beckoned for him to follow. “Let’s get out of here—I need to breathe fresh air.”

  He followed her out into the corridor, and she headed for the elevator to take them back up to the main living chamber.

  “What sort of missions have you done?” he asked as they stepped into the lift.

  “All sorts,” she replied. “My last one was to protect a senior politician against Centauri assassination.”

  “I haven’t heard of any politicians dying lately, so I assume it was a success.”

  She glanced over at him. “The politician lived, if that’s what you mean, but we lost two operatives in the fight.”

  “Oh.” He pondered that for a long moment. “I kind of thought you guys were invincible.”

  “Unfortunately not, and ‘you guys’ includes you, now, Jack. Do you feel invincible?”

  “Nope.”

  The elevator door opened onto the wide walkway and Katja stepped out, breathing in the cool air and looking out across the park that stretched below them. The ceiling illumination indicated late afternoon, and as she strolled over to the stone railing she spotted a group of suntanners relaxing by the pond. She’d never been one for lying down and cooking her skin, but a nice swim might be just the thing.

  “I think I’ll head down to the water,” she said. “You feel like a swim?”

  He made a show of rubbing his shoulder.

  “The sensei has beaten the strength out of pretty much every muscle I have. I don’t know if I could even doggy paddle.”

  “You need to keep at it, if you want to look like the rest of us.” She patted the soft belly under his coveralls.

  “Yeah, I get the feeling that it’s always bikini season here.” His eyes flickered up and down her form, as they often did. She wasn’t interested, but still flattered by the attention.

  “How else can we pull off our sexpionage missions?” she smirked.

  “You really do that?” His expression wasn’t quite as pantingly sophomoric as she’d expected.

  “If required.” She shrugged, not particularly proud of the fact, and regretting her attempt at humor.

  “Hmm.” He patted his belly. “Then I guess I better ease off on the cookies.”

  “The ladies will love you,” she said, leaning forward on the cool stone of the railing.

  “So what other kinds of missions do you do?” he asked.

  “Oh, all sorts. Why?”

  “Do you often execute ship captains?”

  Her blood froze in her veins. And there it was. She’d always wondered if Jack had known it was her under that helmet.

  Turning to fully face her companion, she folded her arms and stared at him. To his credit, he didn’t drop his own gaze. If anything, his eyes became as cold as hers. There was a question in his face, she could see, but there was also something else. Was it judgement?

  “That was my first mission. It was intended to test my loyalty to the State.”

  “I stood there,” he said quietly, “and watched as you put your gun to my captain’s head and blew his brains out. Then you tortured my science officer…”

  “I didn’t torture her.”

  “You twisted her arm behind her back until it snapped, and then you beat the crap out of Thomas Kane and dragged him out under arrest.”

  Kicking Thomas in the gut was one of the more satisfying things she’d ever done on a mission, but she really didn’t like being reminded of her actions. If they were in the past, they didn’t matter.

  “My mission was to enforce the verdict of a Fleet Marshall Investigation. Those are rarely pretty.”

  “So you were just following orders.”

  “Yes.” She definitely sensed disapproval from him. “Do you have something to say about that?”

  His lips parted, but no words came o
ut. He studied her anew, with none of the eager youth she’d always known.

  “I’ll follow orders,” he said finally, “but I’m not going to sacrifice my humanity.”

  This was dangerous ground and she wanted nothing to do with it.

  “We’re servants of the State, Jack. The State carries the burden of our actions.”

  “I don’t know if I can give up that burden.”

  “Then you’d better learn, and fast.” Her mind unwillingly flashed back over that first mission, as she’d carried out her orders with brutal efficiency. She pushed down the memory, but in its place rose the faces of the dozen or more Terran civilians she’d killed. By order of the State. And the—no. She wouldn’t think about it.

  It wasn’t her responsibility.

  “It was in almost this exact spot,” she said, “where another operative named Shin Mun-Hee once questioned my actions. Shin is dead now, and I’m still alive, so which one of us made the right choices?”

  “I want to stay alive, too,” he said. His expression changed again, as he withdrew from her. “I’ll have your back, just like I know you’ll have mine, but I don’t know if I can do what you do.”

  She forced her arms down, adopting a more relaxed posture. It seemed to work, and Jack’s stance loosened.

  “You don’t have to do what I do,” she said. “As a team we work toward the same goals, but we have different jobs. You’re the support, and I’m the pointy end—but our loyalty must be beyond question.”

  He nodded, still pondering before finally meeting her eye.

  “The State has my loyalty, Katja. I’m here to serve, and to make a real difference.”

  She watched him carefully, almost feeling his emotions as he grappled with the issue of what their job entailed. It clearly troubled him, although it had never troubled her. Or so she always told herself.

  “Good.” She looked over at the distant pond. “You still up for a swim?”

  “Yeah, sure, sounds good. I’ll meet you down there.”

  She left him, stalking away without a backward glance. She’d always remembered fondly Jack Mallory’s youthful earnestness, but being faced with it head-on, as he questioned her actions, was suddenly uncomfortable. Entering her quarters, she automatically made for the armchair, but paused behind it, fingers gripping into its soft material. The anger was boiling up, and she embraced it.

  Damn him and his pathetic questions. Who was Jack Mallory to question the will of the State? If she didn’t like him so much she’d be tempted to mention his doubts to their commander.

  Tears began welling up in her eyes, the horror buried deep in her heart trying to burst free. As always, her anger fought them down, but Jack’s honest features and blunt questioning kept intruding into her mind, almost making her anger into a negative. She didn’t want to think about her past actions.

  She didn’t have to think about her past actions.

  The armchair was too cumbersome to lift, so she lashed out and grabbed the nearest dining chair. Hefting it over her head she smashed it down against the hardwood table. The legs cracked off cleanly—not enough damage. She swung the chair down again and felt the grim satisfaction of the frame snapping. For a second she wished it was Jack’s head.

  Damn him, damn him, damn him. How dare he question her? How dare he impose morality on their mission? It wasn’t his place.

  But he was new, she said to herself through deep, calming breaths. He was still learning the life of an operative. They were relieved of all responsibility for their actions. He needed to understand that he was going to be taken care of—completely— in exchange for his loyalty. Maybe he needed a pleasant reminder of that.

  She linked up to the Confidential Requirements of SFHQ.

 

  came the polite reply.

 

 

  Nothing could distract a young man from his troubles better than the attention of a beautiful woman. He’d learn soon enough to stop worrying about the outside world, and focus on his job. No judgements—no consequences.

 

 

  A momentary image of Jack’s impending pleasure filled her mind, and she felt a sudden need herself.

 

 

  Feeling the anger course through her, blocking out all other feelings, Katja finally began to calm down. Everything was going to be all right.

  No judgements. No consequences.

  18

  The new security unit assigned to the destroyer Singapore incorporated the entire strike team from a fast-attack craft which had been shot down while they were on the ground conducting their assault. Thomas didn’t ask for details on how they’d survived being stranded on a hostile planet, but the fact that all ten of them were still alive spoke to their abilities.

  His briefing, therefore, had been short. Aside from learning the specifics of their new vessel, they already knew what they were doing.

  The lieutenant in charge didn’t seem that interested in small talk, and Thomas found himself dismissed and wandering the flats of Singapore. The damage his own team had done defending this ship had been mostly repaired, but he ran his hand absently along one of the black scars on the bulkheads. In the haste to get ships back in action, Fleet maintenance had repaired all the airtight doors but ignored the cosmetic effects of his battle. Glancing at his watch, he wondered if the XO was also ahead of schedule.

  He activated his headset, pinged, and received a quick response.

  “Lieutenant Perry.”

  “XO, sir, strike officer. I’ve completed my briefing and I’m ready to go when you are.”

  “I’m still busy.” There was irritation plain in the reply. “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Severing the connection, he continued strolling forward. He obviously wasn’t welcome at strike stores, and he doubted the bridge would appreciate his presence. The wardroom? Making idle chit-chat with strangers didn’t appeal, especially since the topic of careers inevitably came up. So he continued forward and found himself at the open door to the captain’s cabin. Part of him wondered if it was a bad idea.

  At his knock, Commander Sean Duncan looked up from his chair.

  “Thomas, come on in.” Duncan motioned him to a seat and set down the tablet he’d been studying. Thomas sat stiffly.

  “Your strike team has been briefed, sir. I have no concerns about their ability to defend this ship against boarders.”

  “Yeah,” Duncan said with a smile. “She’s a tough bitch and her troopers worship her. I hear every single one of them was wounded during their last action, but no one was left behind, and they carved a wake of destruction as they cleared to the evac point.”

  “Good to hear that the Corps is upholding its reputation.”

  Duncan sat back, studying him. There was a moment of silence between them which Thomas didn’t enjoy, but had expected all along.

  “Thomas, what’s up with all this? I never understood in the first place why you did a crossover tour with the Corps. You could have done support, like I did, and here you are again.” Duncan seemed to be groping for an answer to his obvious question. “Is this some sort of special mission, you hiding out as a subbie trooper on a ship?”

  “I wish it was, but in fact I’m the luckiest guy in the worlds to be here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the other guilty parties in that Fleet Marshall Investigation were forcibly retired, put in jail, or killed. I think I got off lightly.”

  “What Fleet Marshall Investigation?” Duncan frowned. “You mean the
one a year ago in the Research Squadron?”

  “I was the XO of the ship in question,” Thomas said, jerking a thumb at himself.

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  He shrugged, settling back heavily in his chair. “I’m still alive, and I’m still in uniform—those are good things. Being forced to start my career over again does wonders for a man’s humility.”

  Duncan snorted. “In other words, you’re a changed man— but at least as a subbie you can be a skin hound again. I can’t really do that now that I’m CO.”

  “But I’m still married, Sean, subbie or no.”

  “Wow, you are a changed man.”

  Thomas considered those words, even if his old friend had meant them in jest. It was strange, he realized, sitting here in a CO’s cabin with his old classmate, friend, and rival. Duncan had won the race and had achieved a major command—their shared dream since the Astral College. But Thomas knew that with senior rank came political challenges, new threats. He wondered if his straight-shooting friend Sean was properly equipped to deal with them. Thomas’s own dabbling in that world had led to disaster, and this past year he’d enjoyed the lack of responsibility.

  “I’m just a simple trooper these days,” he said. “I do my job, I look after my team. Oh, and I keep the other subbies in line.”

  “Sounds like fun,” Duncan offered, his smile almost wistful, “but I’m sure you’ll be back soon enough.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Really?” Duncan’s gaze sliced right through the defensive walls Thomas had erected.

  “Okay, whatever,” he confessed. “I do care, but there isn’t shit I can do about it.”

  “No, but I think somebody else is doing something about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your CO told me about that commendation that came down for you last week. Apparently it came all the way from Parliament.”

  Commander Hu had presented Thomas with a bar for his Distinguished Conduct Medal—in effect presenting him a second DCM. In front of all the other officers, Hu had praised Thomas’s brave service and upheld him as an example of consistent professionalism for all others to follow.