“Patton, huh?” Conyers chuckled.
“So the story goes.” Mairin nodded. “You going into crew rest soon?”
Conyers nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be ready to drop you.”
“Why do you pilot types get all the perks? I mean, you have to have guaranteed sleep before you fly.”
Conyers shook her head. “Not all the time. And we’re just as likely as you guys to get after it on a few hours of rest or less. We just don’t stay up all the time like you guys do. I mean, twenty-some hours at a time? How in the hell do you do that without stim tabs?”
“Coffee.” Mairin snorted and they laughed for a moment. “It’s just like patrol aircraft. We take turns so the others can eat or sleep. So we do get a little sleep. Besides, even the Greys can’t fight for more than about eighteen hours without a break. It overheats their repulsors and gun tubes.”
Conyers sighed. “Seriously. I can’t imagine doing what you’re doing, Mairin. Leading a cavalry troop has got to be tons harder than flying!”
“I doubt that,” Mairin said. “I barely passed differential equations. I can’t imagine piloting a few thousand tons of vehicle through various atmospheres and not smacking into the ground. I’d love to try, though.”
“I bet you could do just about anything you wanted to.”
Mairin actually felt a blush in her cheeks. “Well, right now I need to go make sure my lieutenants are earning their keep, coming up with a plan that’s at least half decent and has a chance of surviving contact.” She paused and smiled at her new roommate. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come back. I’ll need some shuteye too.”
“You won’t wake me,” Conyers said. “Flight tabs. Guaranteed to knock me out for precisely eight hours with the best sleep possible. Sometimes being a pilot does have its perks, I guess. See you in the morning.”
“Sleep well,” Mairin smiled and walked out of her room. The smile faded as she passed the wardroom and the regiment headquarters area. The conference room door was open.
“Shields!” The nasal voice bounced off the bulkheads.
Shit, Mairin thought. What now? She walked into the room. Obviously it was a commander’s call. All of the other commanders and their first sergeants were present. She glanced to her spot at the table and saw that Livingston wasn’t there either. She met Coffey’s eyes. “Yes, sir?”
He smirked. “Forgot about commander’s call?”
Mairin shook her head. “Never knew there was one, sir. When did the notification go out?”
“It’s SOP.” He grinned at her. “Would be nice if you followed it once in a while.”
“Begging your pardon, sir. In order for SOP to be followed it cannot be a secret little document known only to a few.”
“Shut your mouth and sit down, Shields. Send for your first sergeant, too.”
Mairin felt the blood in her face as she moved through the room. Droves of laughing eyes followed her. She moved to her position at the table, withdrew a small notepad and pen from her coveralls and leaned forward feigning rapt attention.
Coffey leaned back in his chair, raised his arms over his head and yawned. “All right, people. Now, we’re gonna talk about my plan for this defensive mission. Planet Gonad, as I’ve taken to calling Ashland, is like fighting on the Moon. Earth’s moon. You following me? Good.”
He leaned back and put his boots on the table. “Now, the way I see this. Well, the way I see it is totally different from headquarters but that’s not important right now, is that we’ll dig in with two companies facing the enemy and two on the obliques to defend against the flanking maneuver. We know the Greys are gonna come with a million vehicles and the best place to meet them is on ground we choose.
“Now, we’ll have orbital gunfire hitting all of the potential avenues of approach. That’s what we call the ways the enemy might come and fight against us, Shields. Pay attention.
“So, I’m gonna have the engineers mine all of the other ways the enemy might try and move against us. How’s that for starters?”
The group of officers nodded and smiled. Mairin did her best not to shake her head. Obstacles should be used in a defense to channelize the enemy into exactly where a defender wanted them to go, like an actual kill zone or something to that effect. Without at least attempting to plan where he wanted to put the enemy, Coffey was surrendering the initiative to them. Defending against the flank was one thing, but not determining a place to really fight the enemy was a cardinal sin.
No one seemed to be disagreeing with Coffey, and she knew that raising her hand or opinion would result in derision and laughter. She glanced at Sergeant Major Trevayne who sat stonefaced and would not return her gaze. What were these assholes thinking?
The whole lot of them sat with mouthfuls of imitation tobacco and spit into cups and bottles like buffoons. The room stank of tobacco spit, and they all occasionally stuffed more of the disgusting mix into their already full lips. Did they really think they looked like cowboys? Just because their commander did it, was it really necessary? Carcinogen free or not, it was disgusting. A part of Mairin almost missed cancer. She wanted to gag as the lieutenant next to her stuffed his lip to the breaking point with tobacco and turned to smile at her with black-stained teeth, spit leaking from the corner of his mouth.
She looked at her notepad for a moment. And what would the cavalry be doing this time? Sitting in the reserve? Performing a screen ten miles away from the objective? I wish he’d try and use us correctly just once!
“Shields!”
“Sir?”
“Glad you’re awake down there. I want you and your worthless bunch of sissies to go out and....um....take a look at a big ditch that winds up to the east of our position. The Greys might try and exploit it.”
Mairin glanced at the holo map in the center of the room. There it was. A wadi. She blinked. An area reconnaissance mission. Figure out how to get there and back, how to keep the enemy from using it, and how to fight from it if necessary. Easy, in theory.
The wadi was a good three hundred meters wide in most places and looked to be about ten kilometers long. At its closest point it was roughly fifteen kilometers from the regiment’s position. Beyond the range of their direct fire support. He was doing it again. Just like Wolc. And Waters City. And Hoffman Colony. Leave her and her unit out in the middle of nowhere without support. Or worse, expecting that she and her troopers would die sitting still like good little soldiers.
“And Shields,” Coffey leaned forward and spat into a cup. “I don’t want you yelling and screaming for air cover or fire support or anything else. Your whining and complaining directs assets from this regiment and leaves my people naked.”
Mairin saw her vision redden. She made no attempt to stop her mouth. “Left your people naked? With all due respect, sir, you never even thought of using air support until Hoffman Colony. And we used it at Wolc because you saw to it that I was cut off from the intelligence net and had no tactical information! Don’t sit there and tell me that I whine about shit!”
Coffey stood and lashed out with a finger. “One more word and I’ll court-martial you for insubordination!”
I’d like to see you try. Mairin met his stare but said nothing.
“We’ll talk about this later, Shields! Anybody else want to subvert my authority?” He glared at the room. Hands on his hips, he sneered like a satisfied pig and sat back down. “Now. We’re going to go around the room and you’re going to backbrief me on your plan. You first, Shields.”
Mairin took a long breath through her nose and spoke slowly. “Sir, the troop will...”
“Company.” Coffey said. “This is a tank regiment. You are a company sized element. I’m through with the cavalry bullshit you and your ‘troopers’ are selling. You read me?”
“Yes, sir.” Mairin said. “My company will perform a passage of lines at H-hour minus three to allow for—”
“What’s your mission?”
“Recon and defend that wadi if n
ecessary, sir.”
“That’s all I need to know. Your details are boring and stupid. I want to know if you can do the mission I’ve assigned to you, or whether or not I should court-martial you for incompetence.” Coffey stared at her. “You done?”
“Yes, sir.” Mairin felt alternately amused and pissed off. Like laughing and hitting something at the same time. She imagined it was how insanity might feel. She knew Coffey was continuing to talk and get his glad-handed briefbacks from officers who thought he was some kind of hero. How the man had ever made colonel was beyond her, though she knew the answer lay on the backs of those he’d served with. They’d made him look good through their own competence and devotion to duty, and by proxy he came out smelling like a rose despite his incompetence.
That’s how generals are made, she wrote on her pad and drew a smiling face next to it. Keep your perspective, Mairin.
The meeting droned into a second hour before Coffey stood and pointed wildly around the room. “We drop in ten hours! Get your shit straight and don’t make me look like an idiot!” He stomped out of the room like a mad hornet leaving most of them to smile, slap each other on the back, and bullshit like they were the greatest things since sliced bread. Mairin left without talking to any one and not giving a damn what they thought of her. At the end of this battle, God willing, she’d be standing here again. She couldn’t say the same for many of her fellow officers.
Her neurals flashed. Ulson. I took the operations order briefs from the platoons. Not too bad. They’ll brief you in six hours. I told Livingston to stay away from the commander’s call, too. No sense both of you losing time. Alex.
Mairin smiled. At least something was going well. Without another thought, she walked to her room and stepped in quietly. She undressed in the darkness and smiled at the gentle snoring emanating from the other bunk. Her own sheets were warm and soft. Her head swam for a moment and her stomach lurched with more unwarranted nausea, but Mairin Shields was asleep a minute later, her own light snoring in perfect time with her new roommate.
* * * * *
Forty-Two
“What are we going to do about the Tuegs?”
Munsen rubbed his scratchy chin. He’d not been to sleep for twenty-six hours. Strategic thought was mostly beyond his tired mind, but he looked up over the mug of coffee. “They will withdraw all forces from the coalition in three weeks. They are starting to encourage their people to return home from across the galaxy.”
The delayed response came a few seconds later, the wonders of Vemehian technology. They called it something unpronounceable to humans, who took it and applied popular culture to something fantastical, the way they always did. So they called it an ansible. Across great distances, man could talk in real time with the other sentient races. General Zhaire leaned towards her screen on Earth and said, “What’s that mean for our efforts?”
“The Tuegs are executing a homeworld defense. They feel that occupation is imminent, and they are making plans to defend Tueg at all costs.” Munsen leaned back slowly. “They’ve requested the Prelate come to a private conference in two weeks.”
“A product of the negotiations on Luna?”
“Yes, but classified to the nth degree.” Munsen sighed. “I wish I knew what they were up to.”
“Suspicions?”
Munsen sipped his coffee. How to put this? “I’m not entirely sure. The Tuegs are particularly distrustful of the Styrahi, and I think they feel remaining neutral is the lesser of two evils. I don’t like their chances against the Greys, and frankly I’m wondering if the defense of the homeworld is an all-out attempt to take their society en masse to another galaxy. They certainly have the technological ability.”
“But how could they accomplish such a thing?”
Munsen shrugged. “I’d suspect a Dyson shell or an equivalent of some type. We know they’ve encapsulated moons and asteroids before, so it wouldn’t surprise me. But that’s not to say something else couldn’t be possible. Generation ships at sublight speeds? Who knows?”
“How likely do you think it is they would attempt such a thing?”
“Not very. I’m certain it’s a homeworld defense. As for what they want to negotiate with the Prelate about, I have no idea.” Munsen gritted his teeth against the thought of failure.
“Let me repeat myself. What are we going to do about the Tuegs? Their defection from the coalition will raise doubts among the Legion and could undermine our war effort. The Greys must be stopped at all costs.” Zhaire stared at him.
Munsen shook his head. “The Tuegs know that, but are no longer willing to fight alongside us, because the threat to their homeworld is too great. We’ll face the same thing if Styrah is attacked. It’s customary for them to defend their homeworld. You’d have a mass exodus there as well. No, the Tuegs are afraid and there’s no one in the Legion that would tell them not to be. Their concern is obviously one that encompasses Earth, but to what degree I don’t know.”
“Have you considered speaking directly to the Prelate? Or what about McMasters?”
Munsen bristled. “No, we only talk about the imprinting experiments.” Which was a major sticking point, Munsen didn’t say aloud. Once McMasters found out Tallenaara had been the Styrahi subject, he’d manipulated the situation to get her back with her college sweetheart. That much was clear, but the reasoning as to why was not.
“What about his consort? I believe you are familiar with her?”
Munsen flared. “Absolutely not! I will not interfere with her again.” Finding calm was impossible now. Of all the things to suggest. Tallenaara had been through enough, hadn’t she? Interference now would smack of conspiracy to the Styrahi Council. No, she would be left alone at all costs. There had to be other possibilities within the Prelate’s inner circle. “I will find some other conduit.”
“We have to know what the Tuegs want, and more importantly, what the Prelate will agree to.”
“Who knows what he will discuss with them! Until we actually learn something, speculation will get us nowhere.” Munsen yawned. “I’m afraid I have to end this call now before I fall asleep.”
“How can you sleep at a time like this? I need your advice and counsel, Colonel.”
Munsen smiled at the monitor. “And without sleep, you’ll get neither from me. Out.” He turned off the monitor and disconnected the subspace service completely for the night. He lay on his single bunk within the bowels of a freighter and listened to the sounds of the ship for a long time.
What would the Tuegs want with Andrew Cartner? The Prelate was merely a mouthpiece of Earth. A mouthpiece engaged to be married to a Styrah. A Styrah with a certain genetic mutation that could allow for cross-breeding of their species. Is that why Styrah became involved with Earth in the first place? Surely there had to be more to it than that.
Alone with his doubts, Munsen fell asleep somewhere near Tueg without an answer.
* * * * *
Forty-Three
Sweaty retracting sheets held Tally to Andrew’s chest as Luna fell away. The transport’s crew made preparations to enter foldspace, and Andrew’s entourage collected and archived his speeches and negotiations from their time on Luna, before ramping themselves into a frenzy. Tally often watched them scurrying like ants from one stressful project to another and wondered why anyone in their right mind would do such a thing. Laying against Andrew’s chest, the sweat of their lovemaking still warm on their skins, Tally pushed aside her wonderings about everyone else but Andrew. His breathing wasn’t shallow or rhythmic. Without moving her head, she knew his eyes were open and staring into the ceiling. Waiting for her to sleep so that he could get up, watch her for a moment, and then go back to work.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
A snort. “I thought you’d gone to sleep.”
“And you were just about to get out of bed and work on something.” Tally squeezed his chest. “What if I’m not ready for you to go?”
Andrew took a
deep breath and let it out. “Then I stay here.”
“That’s a first.”
Andrew laughed. “Come on, Tally. You know—”
“I do.” She raised her chin and looked up to his face. “Now tell me what’s bothering you. Everything you’ve told me suggests your negotiations were successful enough to keep the Tueg supporting the war effort. Right? Transports and foldspace support?”
Andrew nodded. “Yes.”
Tally was quiet for a moment as she stifled the thought she finally brought herself to say. “What are you not telling me?”
There wasn’t a response for a minute. Andrew sighed. “There’s another phase of the negotiation they feel can only be conducted on Libretto, with representatives from the Styrahi Council. That’s where we’re headed.”
“You told the press corps—”
“Yes, I lied to them. We’ll have an announcement made on Earth soon enough. Darren already recorded it and it will be broadcast in a couple of hours when we enter foldspace.” Andrew licked his lips. “Is there something about Libretto I need to know about?”
Tally rolled up onto an elbow, resting partially on Andrew’s chest. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m not sure. The whole discussion about getting me to Libretto. And having the Styrahi present. Something doesn’t fit.” Andrew rolled his head to look at her. “What’s so special about Libretto?”
“It’s the most like Earth in the known galaxy. The atmosphere is an almost complete replicant. Similar core structure. A little smaller and only about forty percent water.” Tally paused. “Similar flora and fauna. Gods, Andrew. I don’t know what you’re asking!”
Andrew smiled thinly. “I don’t either.”
Tally blinked. “What gave you the impression about Libretto? That there’s something there? Maybe the Tuegs want to meet on neutral ground. Libretto doesn’t belong to anyone, Andy. Have you considered that?”
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