Man of War (Rebellion Book 1)

by M. R. Forbes

  It exploded.

  The force of the blast threw Donovan and Ehri backward, covering them in the enemy's blood and gore.

  Donovan cursed as his shoulder hit the floor and was wrenched back out of position. It hurt so much; he wanted to stay there and wait for it to stop throbbing. He knew he couldn't. He dragged himself up, getting to his feet at the same time Diaz reached him.

  "Donovan," she said, running over and throwing her arms around him.

  He threw his good arm around her waist to hug her while he turned to find Ehri. She was standing with her face dripping the bek'hai's blood; her expression horrified.

  "We need to go," Donovan said. "Ehri?"

  The clone looked back down the launch tunnel as if she were trying to decide what to do. She had come to observe how humans lived, not how her own kind died.

  "Ehri?" Diaz said.

  The alien scientist looked back at them.

  "I'm ready," she said.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Gabriel rolled over, trying to ignore Wallace's attention as the dog attempted to get him out of bed. His bathroom was two levels up, and he had to go.

  "Leave me alone," Gabriel said, pushing at the dog's side with his hand.

  Wallace didn't quit.

  "Okay. Okay."

  Gabriel pushed himself up, turning to sit on the edge of his bed. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, running his hand over his face. He hadn't shaved since the Council meeting, and a rough growth of hair was sprouting.

  He stood up, ambling unevenly toward the door. Wallace rushed ahead of him, waiting and wagging his tail.

  "Don't do that to me," Gabriel said. "There's nothing to be happy about."

  Wallace ignored him. Gabriel opened the door, and the dog dashed out into the hallway. That was the problem with dogs. They were always happy. It didn't matter what went wrong. It didn't matter if you felt like your whole world was falling apart around you.

  He ran his hand through his short hair, his door closing behind him. The corridor was empty save for the two of them, and he was thankful for that. It had been challenging to avoid everyone else on Delta Station for the last three days. He could imagine what they would say. He could imagine what they were already saying about him, about his father, and about the end of the war.

  He was still wearing the same uniform from the Council meeting, wrinkled and messy and certainly smelling awful. He knew anyone who saw him like this would find his reaction pathetic.

  Especially his father. He winced as his mind returned to the thought that he had run away instead of dealing with the outcome like a man and being the one to go to Theodore and tell him that his fight was done. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He could hear his father's voice in his head, telling him he was a coward, and that no St. Martin ever shirked their responsibilities because they didn't get what they wanted. He could hear him calling him a baby, a spineless gator, and worse. His father had a colorful vocabulary, and he was never afraid to use it.

  So why was he doing it? Why was he wallowing in self-pity, when he should have been attending the meetings Colonel Graham had scheduled to prepare Delta Station for breakdown and abandonment?

  Because it was his fault this was happening. It was a thought he couldn't shake. The Dread starfighter had chased him hard, and his ship had taken enough damage that it needed to be grounded and repaired. He had considered himself lucky at the time, but now he realized it was just another cruel joke, courtesy of the God he didn't believe in. How many times in the last few days had he been tempted to take the crucifix his mother had left him and crush it beneath his boot? How many times had he stood in front of his window and stared down at the Magellan as if he could will things to be different?

  His mother had believed, so much so that she had stayed behind, sacrificing herself to get others on board in her place. So much that she had chosen the love of an unseen, un-present thing over the love of her husband.

  This was how He was repaying her? Making her death for nothing?

  He made his way down the corridor, redirecting Wallace to take the stairs up the two levels to the park. There wouldn't be any traffic on the stairs.

  He moved like a robot, his emotions careening from angry passion to total despair, and generally settling on a simple numbness that drove his feet forward. Wallace ranged ahead of him until he went too slowly, and then the dog would return and nudge at his legs.

  Daphne and Soon were in the park when the hatch slid open and Wallace ran in. Gabriel had a strong desire to turn around, to get out before they saw him. It was early. They should have still been in bed. Most of the station was. They noticed the dog and then turned to him. He could see the pity register on their faces as they took in the sight.

  He hated it.

  He hated himself more.

  He knew he needed to get out of the malaise. He knew he was supposed to be stronger than this. He was General St. Martin's son. The Old Gator's son. Weakness wasn't supposed to be in the vocabulary. He didn't want to feel this way, but he didn't know how to stop it.

  "Hey, Gabriel," Daphne said, approaching him with none of the caution her husband was displaying. "How are you?"

  Gabriel took a few seconds to answer. "I've been better."

  She stepped forward, putting her arms around him. The move took him by surprise, and before he knew it, he had tears in his eyes.

  Soon joined them more slowly, standing beside his wife and putting a hand on Gabriel's shoulder. When Wallace trotted back over, he used his free hand to pet him.

  "You've always been passionate," Daphne said, looking up at him. "You get that part from your father. You've always run on your emotions. I think you must get that from your mother because from what I've heard your father can run cold as ice in any situation. It makes you strong, Gabe."

  "No, it doesn't," Gabriel said, trying to get control over himself. His father would be so disappointed in him. The thought made it worse. "I'm a damn mess, and I can't stop myself."

  "It isn't your fault," Soon said.

  "Yes, it is. It was my mission, and I survived it."

  "Come on, Gabriel. You can't do that to yourself. The 'what if's, the 'if only's. It doesn't work. For anyone. Ever. If it weren't your mission, it would have been someone else's. It might have been mine. Would you prefer if I were dead?"

  Gabriel shook his head. "No. I don't mean it that way."

  "I know you don't, but you aren't looking at the whole picture. You're seeing it from one perspective. A selfish one that wants to punish you for being alive."

  Selfish? How was he selfish to want to have died? To have given his life to keep fighting?

  "You're hearing your father's voice in your head, aren't you?" Daphne asked, finally pulling away. "Telling you that you're a failure? Telling you that you aren't enough like him?"

  "Sometimes," Gabriel admitted. "And sometimes I hear him calling me every Cajun curse he knows because of the way I've been handling the fallout. I'm a failure on both sides of the ball."

  "You aren't a failure for caring," Daphne said. "You've poured all of your energy into this war for the last fifteen years. You've gone on more runs than any other pilot over that time by more than double. You've put your life on the line over sixty times."

  "You've also had your share of loss," Soon said. "Nobody expects you to take this like it's nothing or Colonel Graham would be ready to court-martial you for failure to show for duty. You're beating yourself up when nobody else is."

  "My father is," Gabriel said.

  "You know that for a fact?" Daphne said.

  "I know him. I know who he is."

  "From what you've told me, he isn't conscious enough of the time to be beating anything up."

  "He's been waiting for me to come to him and tell him we've solved the secret of the Dread's armor. Every time I've been to visit him, I could see it in his eyes. Even when he barely knew where he was, or who he was, I could see it. I won't ever get to tell him that. And not on
ly that. I should have been the one to tell him about the message from Earth, and I chickened out of that one, too."

  "Gabriel-" Daphne started to say.

  "And then there's my mother," Gabriel said, continuing over her. "Failing her memory is the worst of all. She was counting on us to win this war for her. It was her damn dying wish."

  He could feel the anger rising again, the tears preceding it. He clenched his jaw and his fists, once more tempted to curse God for whatever part He had in this.

  "It was always a long shot, Gabe," Daphne said. "You know that."

  "It doesn't matter. I've always believed we would. I still believe we can."

  "You heard the message from Earth."

  "I don't care. I know our situation is bleak, but I don't know how to give up hope in it. I don't know how to let go of it."

  "Maybe that's the real problem," Daphne said.

  Gabriel froze, staring at them both. Was that the real problem? His entire life had revolved around the war with the Dread. He had literally been pulled out of cold storage and inserted into a surrogate womb to be born to fight them. Most children of the NEA were assigned to their future roles shortly after birth. They had assigned him before he had existed as anything more than a sperm and egg.

  And now it was over, and he didn't know how to live without it.

  "Gabe, are you okay?" Soon asked.

  Gabriel nodded. "Not yet. I feel a little better. I should have talked to you sooner. Thank you."

  Daphne smiled. "Anytime, Captain."

  "Come on, Wallace," he said.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Gabriel went back to his quarters, finding a small measure of energy returning as he walked. He was still feeling depressed, and he still wanted to fall back on his bed and close his eyes.

  He didn't want to do it as much as he had before he had taken Wallace up to the park.

  It wasn't much, but it was something.

  He fought to cling to that, to use it to push the feelings of hopelessness and loss from his head and his heart. He had handled Eva's death better than this. He had mourned, of course, but he had also volunteered to pilot the next mission. There was no better cure for the loss than getting back out there and doing what they had dedicated their lives to do.

  Now that there was no more getting back out there, he realized he had to find something else to do. Some other way to contribute. He had to put his mother's memory aside. He had to put his father's promise aside. He had to drop all that he had ever been and turn into something else.

  How?

  He slipped into his quarters, feeling the depression returning in a hurry. There was nothing else for him. He was a starfighter pilot. He was a soldier born into a war, and now that the war was over there was no place left for him. He didn't have any other skills. What good would a starfighter pilot be on Eden?

  He went over to his small storage cabinet and opened it, finding a nutrient bar inside. He tore open the package and broke it up in his hand before tossing it on the floor. Wallace hurried over to it, gobbling it down before Gabriel could make his way back to his bed.

  Wallace jumped on the mattress, blocking his path. Gabriel stared at the dog's face. The big eyes, the lolling tongue, the content smile. His spirit was fighting to bring him back. So was his pet.

  "Okay," Gabriel said, fighting against himself. "I'll clean myself up."

  He wandered into the bathroom, grabbing his razor and sliding it along his face. It took a lot of effort, and every motion left him feeling exhausted. He was tempted to quit a few times, but each time he began to turn around and let his face stay half-shaven Wallace was standing there, still looking at him.

  He finished shaving, peering at himself in the mirror. He looked awful. Pathetic. He closed his eyes, pushing that thought away. If he couldn't accept himself for his loss, he was never going to get back on his feet.

  He slowly removed his clothes, his muscles burning from the work though he was hardly out of shape. He stepped into the shower, finding just enough time to get his hair washed before the water ran out. He hoped the flow had gotten enough of the old sweat and dead skin cells from the rest of him that he didn't smell too badly. He dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist and moving back out into his bedroom.

  He eyed the bed. Wallace was sitting on it, a ball between his front legs.

  "I'm not playing with you," he said.

  Wallace looked at him with hopeful eyes.

  Gabriel noticed that his comm was flashing. It had probably been flashing for days, but he had been too lost to care. He circled around the bed, ignoring Wallace as the dog picked up the ball in his mouth and turned with him, dropping it on the other side.

  He tapped the control pad and scanned the list of messages. Colonel Graham. General Cave. Major Choi. Miranda. Daphne. Captain Sturges. Reza Mokri.

  He paused at the name, mixed in with the others. Reza? The same Reza who had been at the Council meeting?

  He didn't know anyone else with that name.

  He tapped the message. The list was replaced with Reza's face, a little too close to the camera.

  "Captain St. Martin," Reza said. "Um. I'm sorry to bother you, sir. I. Um. I know you don't really know me, but I saw you at the Council meeting a few hours ago. Um. I saw your face after Colonel Graham played that recording, and I, um, I mean, everyone knows about your father."

  Reza was nervous. His olive complexion was more pale, and his eyes kept dropping down from the camera. He glanced back over his shoulder every few seconds.

  "I need your help," he said. "What I said at the meeting about the calculations. I. Um. I'm not wrong, Captain. I'm certain I'm not. There's something going on here. Something that smells." He glanced over his shoulder again. "Eden is real. It is. I believe that. We can't reach it. I know that for sure. I've run the numbers. I've run simulations. It won't work with everyone boarding the Magellan. We'll run out of food and water." He looked over his shoulder. "I. Um. I think the others may be planning something. I think they intend to leave some people behind. Maybe the military? I don't have any proof. I wish I did. I can prove the math doesn't work. Come to Gamma to see me, Captain. I'll show you. We need to convince General Cave. He's the only one who can stop it."

  Gabriel could see the door open behind Reza. Guy and Sarah entered the room. He must have been sending the message from the lab. Did he not trust his personal comm?

  Reza knew they had come in. He leaned in a little closer.

  "Come to Gamma, Captain. Help me. Please."

  The message ended, switching the screen back to the list.

  Gabriel sat in front of it, shaken, but not in a bad way. He could feel his doldrums lifting like an evaporating cloud.

  He had a new mission.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Gabriel smiled when Miranda's door slid open. "Hey, 'Randa."

  Miranda looked surprised to see him. He had expected that. "Gabriel? Is everything okay?" She looked down at Wallace, standing beside him. "Hey Wallace. Who's my good boy." She kneeled down to pet him.

  "Can I come in?" Gabriel asked.

  "Of course." Miranda stood and led him into her quarters.

  As a Senior Spaceman, she had her own room but it was a quarter of the size of Gabriel's. Soft music was playing in the background, and her comm was active, playing an old movie. He couldn't tell which one it was from a glance.

  "What's up?" she asked as her door slid closed. "I heard from Daphne you were in pretty lousy shape this morning. You look okay to me."

  "That depends on how you look at it. I've been pretty depressed since the Council meeting. This whole thing with Eden and the war. I'm sure you've heard."

  "Everyone knows. I was at Colonel Graham's meeting earlier. They're planning to break down the fighters for their parts."

  Gabriel felt a chill. "Already?"

  "It's going to take a few weeks, but yes. Graham is under strict orders to get Delta Station out of operation within three months. They n
eed the materials to refit the Magellan."

  "Then we don't have a lot of time."

  "Time for what?"

  He hadn't realized he said it out loud. "Nevermind. I wanted to ask you for a couple of favors."

  "Yes, I'll watch Wallace," she replied. "Where are you going?" She paused. "You aren't going to do something stupid, are you?"

  Gabriel laughed. It felt good to laugh about something. "If I tell you, will you promise to keep it to yourself?"

  "Gabriel, I know you're upset, but-"

  "It isn't like that. Do you promise?"

  "Fine. What?"

  "Can I borrow your shower?"

  "What?"

  "I ran out of water, and I haven't bathed in three days."

  "That's what you wanted me to promise?"

  "No, but I'd like to finish cleaning myself up, and then I'll tell you."

  She shook her head. "You're impossible. You're lucky I haven't used it yet. Go ahead."

  Gabriel leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before heading into the bathroom. The small space didn't have a door, but he didn't mind. Miranda was like a sister to him. He quickly stripped, finished showering, and redressed himself.

  "Now, spill it," Miranda said, pausing her movie as he came out of the bathroom.

  "While I was out of commission, I got a message from a scientist named Reza Mokri. Do you know him?"

  "It doesn't sound familiar."

  "He's on Guy Larone's team. He was at the Council meeting the other day. He interrupted the meeting to try to tell the Council about a problem with Astronomy's calculations for the trip to Eden."

  "What kind of problem?"

  "According to his message, the trip is going to take a bit longer than advertised, and the only way to make it with enough food and water is to cut some of the population out of the exodus."

  Miranda's face paled. "What?"

  "Exactly. Reza suggested that there may be a plan in place to make sure it's the military personnel who get left behind."