IronStar

by Hallman, Grant

  “One other thing you might want to know. The Talamae military has a proud tradition of service and bravery, and promotes by merit because it would never occur to them to promote someone for any other fool reason. What it does not have, is anything like ‘Standing Order Forty-four Dash A’. Hell, I told you I bunk with my exec. These people just handle it.”

  Again, like a scanner, Kirrah could watch the thought processes at work in the pair. Despair, hope, calculation, wildness, and some deep understanding shifting between them she could only sense in passing. Finally, a decision surfaced. Marcus spoke for them both.

  “We accept. Discharge would be cleanest, or we’ll take assignment if that’s what you can get for us. And thank you, Kirrah Roehl.

  “Just one thing,” he added as the last of the other passengers trooped down the ramp. “What do we do right now? The Admiral will be expecting us to report back immediately!”

  “I’m way ahead of you there, Lieutenant,” Kirrah said, reaching across the aisle to where their handcuffs had been discarded. “Put these on. I hereby arrest you for assaulting my man Prax’soua. My god, woman, you almost pulled his ears off! And you!” she glared mock-severely at Marcus. “You assaulted the Talamae head of state! You are both confined to house arrest. We’ll quarter you someplace nice and comfy at the School, pending trial. Which may take a while to convene, what with cleaning up after being nuked and everything. I figure, it’ll take at least ten minutes longer than it takes Admiral Dunning to see the wisdom of my proposal.” At their speechless, boggled looks, she locked the cuffs on one’s right wrist and the other’s left, and added:

  “Look, I said we appreciate Marines more for your fighting ability than your verbal skills. You just leave the negotiating to your kindly Warmaster. I’ve already made the same offer to Doris, and she wisely accepted. Hell, she was a part of my hijacking team! Now go quietly, while I make the same offer to Margaret. I hate to think what the Admiral would do to her for losing command of her shuttle twice in two days!”

  Chapter 49 (Landing plus one hundred forty-one): Lessons

  “He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone…” - The Gospel of John, 8:7, King James Translation; circa 30 A.D. Terra.

  The hatch to Lucinda Dunning’s office aboard the Argosy slid open. The room was small by the standards of admirals’ offices, a mere four by five meters, but admirals did not usually travel on vessels as parsimonious as destroyers. Despite its size, the data feeds and comm links made the chamber adequate to her duties, and the Admiral’s own presence made the undecorated gray metal walls, exposed conduit and fittings seem the equivalent of the flag conference room on a Battlewagon.

  At least that’s the way it seemed to Ensign Margaret Piersall, as she stepped through the open hatchway. Ex-Ensign Margaret Piersall, she reminded herself miserably. The Admiral returned her salute, waved her to one of the three standard-issue chairs, and continued her call in progress:

  “I understand how you feel, Corporal Sengli, and I know this leaves you short-handed. Your concerns are noted. However I evaluate the probability of another ground assault on one of our shuttles as low, especially since we’ve moved them onto Regnum soil next to the Embassy building, where they fall under our perimeter security.

  “It’s simply more important to render all possible aid to the locals. No matter how I may feel about certain actions taken by their Warmaster,” a sideways smoldering glare slid across Margaret, and snapped back to the screen - “they are still our allies, and they are still dealing with the aftermath of a mini-nuke, a modern weapon they don’t even have a word for. We will do all we can with our technology to help them, and your people are going to have to work right along with every sailor I can spare, until we get them back on their feet.

  “We have also been requested by Talam’s chief priest and medical officer to send a relief mission to O’dakai, which I am inclined to do. I’ve heard the O’dai casualties are very low considering the yield of the explosion under their palace. In fact I’ve been given to understand the strike was surprisingly precise and contained. But those indigs’ health care is not up to even local standards. You will simply have to spare six Marines for two days as security detail for that mission.”

  Margaret could only hear one side of the conversation, but the parade of expressions on her Admiral’s animated face made her want to cringe into a corner, even when it had nothing to do with her.

  “No, we’re not going to protest the arrest of two of our Marines. The legal advice I have is that they have broken local regs and are in lawful custody under conditions which are not cause for alarm. In fact, if any other Marines choose to assault the head of state of an allied sovereignty, they’d better hope they fall into the locals’ custody rather than mine. We have engaged local counsel, although their hearing is understandably a little down the docket from saving lives and re-establishing some semblance of military security for our allies. Anything else?”

  Another pause. Margaret found that by careful self-control, she could avoid actual flinching when the Admiral’s gaze happened to pass over her. She thought.

  “Fine with me. Ask Ensign Auracotta. She’s our Contact Specialist. If she ok’s it, go ahead. And look, Corporal Sengli, I think you’re doing a good job down there. Just don’t worry about the pride of the Regnum, no insult was intended I’m sure. Dunning out.” The Admiral keyed the channel off, leaned back in her chair, sighed wearily, ran her fingers through her short dark brown hair. She leaned forward and keyed again, said:

  “Maureen, bring us two caffis, please. My usual, and…?” Margaret, realizing she was being addressed, jumped a little despite her determination not to. Hastily playing back the conversation, she finally grasped that she was being asked what she wanted in her caffi. Surreal question or not, the Admiral was looking at her, waiting…

  “Uh! One crème, thank you, Ma’am.” Damn, I sound as much like an idiot as I act… In a remarkably short time, a young Yeoman entered by the same hatchway Margaret had, set down a small tray on the Admiral’s desk, nodded once to Margaret but politely did not notice her anxiety, left. The Admiral picked up her cup, made go-ahead gestures to Margaret who did likewise. After a few sips, the Admiral sighed deeply, leaned back in her chair, and focused her full attention on the hapless Ensign.

  “Ensign Piersall, I am not inclined to accept your resignation.” Margaret could feel the skin on her whole body flush. She began to imagine being kept in the Navy and made an example of, as a warning to others. Rather than give herself time to work herself all the way into panic, she just said:

  “Aye, Ma’am. I don’t understand.”

  “So I noticed. That’s why I asked you here.” Another pause, while the Admiral took another sip of her steaming beverage. Her eyes looked across the rim of her cup, weighing, considering. Not unkind eyes, Margaret thought. And she has every right to throw the book at me.

  “I have reviewed the available portions of the shuttle’s log, for whatever they’re worth.” the Admiral said, ignoring Margaret’s renewed blush. “Fortunately they are supplemented from time to time by Ms. Einarson’s certified recordings.

  “In particular, you had the presence of mind to activate the log before opening the flight deck’s hatch, so it showed the confrontation between you and Ms. Roehl and her friend Peetha - no, she changed her name… Elagai. What do you suppose I would have wanted you to do at that point, Ms. Piersall?”

  “Defend your shuttle, Ma’am. You’d just told me the day before how I’d made a mistake by not doing that, and I made the same mistake all over again. That’s why I resigned, Ma’am. I’m just not… not…” She ran down again, speechless with shame and remorse. Nevertheless she held her head erect, hands folded properly in her lap.

  “Margaret, you were put in an impossible position by a very creative and determined ally. She offered you the choice of killing her and two other defenseless people, or surrendering a shuttle. Did you make the right choice? Do you wi
sh now you’d made the other choice? Think about the alternatives you had.” Margaret winced, took a long, shaky breath. Finally her downcast eyes lifted to meet Lucinda’s.

  “Ma’am, if they’d been clearly hostiles, I wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot all of them. I know that. Thinking back, I could have tried disabling the shuttle with my beamer, but I didn’t think of it in time, and it would have been dangerous to everyone on board. I have to say I did the best I could at the time. I’m sorry it wasn’t good enough.”

  “No, it wasn’t. From the time you opened the flight deck hatch, nothing short of murdering three allies would have stopped them. I am convinced Ms. Roehl was not bluffing in the slightest. I will not fault your analysis of the circumstances from the advantage of hindsight, and I never second-guess someone’s actions, when a tactical situation takes them outside their training envelope. You did as well as anyone could have.”

  “I… I did?”

  “You did as well as I did. Consider, Ensign, that while you held a beamer, I held the weapons systems of a destroyer. The first thing Ms. Roehl did after returning to the planet’s vicinity, was to confess her sins and declare her intentions. Then she jettisoned all her weapons and gave us the missile control codes, effectively giving me the same alternatives as she’d given you - kill her, or let her proceed.” Margaret’s eyes were getting rounder as the Admiral continued:

  “I was sure I was only getting part of the story, and by the time we figured out what she’d actually done, there was no way to find that tiny projectile in the time available. But when an ally hands you her knife, bares her throat and says ‘I’m doing this, kill me or get out of the way’, it’s time to take a good hard look at your options and your ally.

  “She forced my hand, exactly the way she forced yours, and I will not see you punished for making the same decision I made. You were wrong to surrender control of your shuttle on the ground outside that palace the day before, Margaret, but you would have been a lot wronger to shoot Ms. Roehl and her friends, to save the shuttle from her the next day. In my opinion, you got that one right.”

  “Th, thank you, Ma’am. You have no idea how much that means to me. Or perhaps you do.”

  “Ahem, perhaps. Now, there are a few other loose ends to clear up. For one thing, I presume you were offered the same ‘custody’ arrangement which is presently shielding Lieutenants Finch and Warden from my attention. And Corporal Gilman. Why didn’t you take it?”

  “Ma’am, Ms. Roehl had me strapped to the jumpseat the whole time, that girl of hers, Elagai, threatening to kill me if I so much as squeaked. I couldn’t have done anything to make her arrest me even if I’d… I couldn’t have done anything, ma’am.” The Admiral’s eyes had taken on a warning glitter.

  “Yes, and very considerate of her it was, to protect your innocence that way. That’s the proper answer for a Navy Board of Enquiry, duly noted. However this conversation is off the record, Margaret, and don’t think your Admiral can’t see a scam, even a legal scam, when it’s running right under her nose. I’ve run too many myself, to not know the smell of snake oil. Why didn’t you take the same course Finch and Warden did? I can’t believe Roehl wouldn’t have offered it to you.” There was a thoughtful pause while Ensign Piersall finally found the words to reply.

  “Ma’am, I guess it just didn’t feel right. For me, I mean. I don’t blame the others for …for where they are now. But I’d already lost control of your shuttle once, and then it was happening all over again, only worse. So I wanted to stay as close to the problem as I could. And when it was over, it just seemed right, to be the one who brought your shuttle back, ma’am. It was my responsibility.”

  “Even at the cost of your career. Even at the cost of stockade time.” Margaret swallowed once, straightened her back for the tenth time or so, said in a smaller voice:

  “Ma’am, yes, Ma’am.” Admiral Dunning leaned back in her chair, steepled her fingers, studied the younger woman a moment, nodded to herself.

  “Ensign Piersall, do you want to remain in the Navy?”

  Margaret staggered mentally a moment at the abrupt shift, replied “Yes, Ma’am, if you think I’m…” The Admiral waited, until Margaret figured out what she’d meant to say.

  “If you think I’m capable, ma’am. And suitable. I love the Navy. And I love piloting.”

  “I never had doubts about your capability, Ms. Piersall. And based on the available data, the results of the action, and this conversation, I do think you’re ‘suitable’. Very well, I shall consider the matter of your actions on the shuttle two days ago, a closed subject, for both of us. I suspect some day you’ll make a fine commander, Margaret, and I’m quite content with you serving within my command. Which is why, after breaking you down to Middie First for that little stunt with the fake internal camera data, I am restoring you to field rank as Ensign, provisional on a satisfactory report from Lieutenant Commander Willison, my NavInt specialist. Who is just a tad curious how you managed to defeat the Navy’s data integrity checks so thoroughly. And of course on continued good ratings from Captain Wallace. Is there anything else you’d like to say before returning to duties?” Margaret felt as though her world was reeling and spinning too fast to follow. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and said:

  “Ma’am, I know you said the matter was closed, but I need to get this out. I realize now that Lieutenant Roehl had me tied to the jump seat to protect me from consequences and to make it look like I was powerless, and in a lot of ways I was. But I have to confess, ma’am, I actively helped her a little at a few points, when I didn’t have to. What she was doing just seemed …right, I guess. Was that wrong?”

  “Margaret, God save the Regnum from officers who think about duty instead of ‘right’, or for that matter, vice versa. We put tools in your hands that a single person could use to vaporize half a continent. A balance between duty and right is the only thing that separates us from the worst savagery humans have ever seen. If you don’t come to the Navy knowing the balance, I’m not sure it can be taught. Not well enough for command, anyway. You already have it.” Lucinda Dunning paused, allowed the thought to sink home. Then she broke eye contact, said,

  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a tonne of reports to process…” Margaret took her cue, rose, saluted and stepped to the hatchway. She paused there, one hand on the open-control. The Admiral worked a moment longer, looked up. Eyebrows raised in an inquisitive arch.

  “Let’s hear it, Margaret.”

  “Sorry, Ma’am. It’ just that …that’s what Lieutenant Roehl said, too, before she made me the offer of ‘protective custody’. She said, ‘Margaret, if you’d tried to fire that beamer at Elagai, I’d have heard its proximity warning beep, and known. And then I’d never be making you this offer.’ She added, ‘Thanks for getting it right’. I didn’t understand her then, not totally, but I think I do now. Thank you, Ma’am.”

  Lucinda’s eyes lingered thoughtfully for a long moment on the hatchway, after it closed behind her redeemed Ensign.

  Five days later, Kirrah was standing with one hand over the clear cover of a regen tank, in the extended facilities at Stone-in-a-River school. Irshe floated within, just beneath consciousness, all biosigns green. A white film of new cells was rapidly coloring the pale yellow synthskin that covered most of his back above his legs. Any skin that happened to be facing south as he rode north up Merchant’s Path, Kirrah thought bitterly. The Kruss’ fireball had been small and brief, but savage for anyone exposed within six blocks, as the neat ranks of twenty-two filled regen tanks testified. Admiral Dunning had stripped all three destroyers of almost every available medical resource, over the half-hearted protests of her medical staff. At the moment, six of the nine Navy medics were on duty planetside. Kirrah gazed down into the lightly-sleeping, familiar face, remembering…

  “He heals well,” said a calm voice beside her. “I am impressed to see Reg’num healing tech at work, it can do so much. I am also a little disappoi
nted - it sustains life where we could not, yet as a machine which only repairs another machine. He will need help with the damage he has suffered in his ath’la, to be injured so cruelly. I had hoped that somehow…”

  “Issthe! I am so grateful for all your work with Irshe, and so many others. The Regnum healers are absolutely fascinated with whatever your priest-healers are doing. They have never seen such serious burns heal so quickly and so well. Aren’t you tired after all the many takkaz you have been working? When did you sleep last?”

  “Two days ago, plus a few naps. It is a debt I have promised my body I will repay, and it trusts me with more energy, for now. Come, I have someone else for you to meet.” Kirrah followed, not deeper into the hospital section, but out into the early evening courtyard. To her puzzlement they continued across the busy open area and up to the door of Kirrah’s quarters. A lithe form rose as she entered.

  “Peetha! Your pardon, Elagai! Please forgive me, I am still not used to your… what is this?” Kirrah touched her own forehead.

  Elagai’s hand went to the circle of fast-heal above her own eyes. “One of the Reg’num healers told me I could have Wyrakka’s brand removed. I thought, since it would not interfere with my duties, I would prefer it gone. It is no longer …appropriate. You are not displeased?”

  “Displeased? Gods, no! You’ve certainly earned it! How are the…” Kirrah broke off at a gesture from Issthe.

  “My apologies for interrupting, Kirrah Warmaster. I am weary, and this is not the person I mean for you to meet. Please come.” Even more puzzled, Kirrah followed into one of the side chambers, Tash’ta’s room. There Tash’ta was sitting beside a small cot on which reclined a sorry-looking little girl of about five Standard years. Clean dressings covered her right eye and the right side of her face, and one thin leg and foot was wrapped in a splint. The child’s left hand was also wrapped, smaller than it should be, and her left arm bruised yellow and purple as far up as the short sleeves gave view. Seams of medicinal gel gleamed here and there on the exposed parts of her face and throat where something jagged had impacted. Her left eye, huge, dark and beautiful, peered anxiously at the newcomers.