Double Spiral War Trilogy

by Warren Norwood

  “I was about to say the same thing,” he said softly. “I feel like I used you, Mica, and I’m sorry.”

  “Then it looks like we used each other a little.”

  “Lovers who don’t know each other very well do that sometimes.” Henley wanted to take her hand, but didn’t trust himself. She solved the problem by taking his and looking squarely into his eyes.

  “I don’t think ‘lovers’ is the right word but I won’t argue terms with you. You are a very special man, Henley.” Mica hesitated, then decided to say it all. “You’ve irritated me at times, but I’ve grown to like you a great deal. If you’ll accept my friendship now…then later, when all this is over, maybe we can find some way to build from there.”

  He held his eyes on hers and stilled the tremor in his throat. He wanted more than friendship, but he was happy to accept what she had to offer. “Friends,” he said gently squeezing her hand, “and let the rest come when it may.”

  Mica sensed a stronger feeling in him than she was willing to match, but as she stood, she couldn’t let go of him. “After the war,” she said, looking down at their clasped hands.

  “Yes, of course. After we win the war.” Henley stood and released her hand. “Goodbye, Mica, and…”

  “Goodbye, Henley,” she said before he could add anything else. “I’ll see you at the victory celebration.” She gave him a brief smile, then quickly turned and walked away with a strange feeling under her heart.

  If we win, he thought as he watched her leave. If we win.

  Final Command

  The Double Spiral War

  Volume Three

  Prologue

  CHIEF WARRANT OFFICER HENLEY STANMORTON, Combat Teller, keyed his thoughts into his computer diary:

  One day this war will be over, and no one knows what the long-range consequences of its outcome will be. But we are again learning the most fundamental lessons that these galactic wars should always make clear to us.

  We are again learning that some people fight with great courage under fire and some do not. We are learning that right, truth, and honor are the possessions not of the powers that rule, but of individuals who hold those values in trust and guard them with their lives; and that small units of resolute combatants guarding those values can ofttimes have an effect totally out of proportion to their size.

  We are again learning that morale is one of the most important factors in any lengthy war and that nothing increases morale so much as superior weapons and training effectively used to overwhelm the enemy in battle.

  We are again learning that exceptional military leadership is usually far more important on the stage of battle than it is in some distant headquarters half a galaxy away; that even the most carefully devised plans can never allow for the chance events and accidents that can alter the course of any battle and thus change the outcome of a whole war.

  Finally, we are learning that the heat of war can forge the strongest bonds of love and allegiance between those who fight it side by side but that it will always be a harsh, cruel waste of lives and resources that darkens the life-spirits of everyone it touches.

  He paused for a moment, thinking of Mica Gilbert. Allegiance? Yes. Love? No. Love was the wrong word.

  Love was a casualty of war – at least that kind of love. It died in battle faster than anything else. Yet allegiance by itself wasn’t a strong enough word for the bonding that took place in war--or for what he felt about Mica.

  With a dismissive shake of his head he turned away from that thought and leaned back with a sigh. There was more he wanted to write, more he wanted to say about the new alien alliance; about the bravery and heroism he had seen on Sutton, about how this war – regardless of its outcome--would alter Caveness Galaxy forever.

  He knew even if the Flag Report accepted what he wrote; there was too much evidence that little or none of it would make any difference. These were not new lessons. He hadn’t made them up on his own. They had been learned before by other people in previous wars over countless centuries. Yet no one seemed to remember them from one war to the next.

  Why? That was what Henley wanted to know. Why?

  1

  “MY FATHER DIED IN A UKE PRISON. My mother died defending Ca-Ryn,” Rasha’kean lngrivia said. “I ca’not keep sittin’ behind a logis-desk somewhere like I been doin’ for the past two years and let others fight this war. I hope you ken that, Sir.”

  “I understand it only too well, Colonel.” General Schopper gave her a reassuring smile. “And I think, perhaps, that you might be just the officer I’m looking for.”

  Rasha’kean brushed a loose strand of long blond hair back from her face. “As long as I can be of service in some ‘active’ capacity, sir, I’m willin’ to try almost anythin’.” Just get me into the fighting, she thought.

  “Unfortunately, the job I need you for won’t be active in the way you mean it. In fact, it will require even more desk work than you’ve been doing.”

  “But sir, I’ve been tryin’ to tell you that I d’not-”

  Schopper held up a heavy hand. “Let me finish, Colonel. I’m working on a plan for the Planetary Force to play a major role in the rest of this war, but I need the best logistics officer I can find to make that work. Your dossier tells me that you could be that officer.”

  Rasha’kean held her emotions in check. She had to convince Schopper to give her a combat command, and this might be her only chance. “Do you ken what my name means, sir? Rasha’kean means ‘she who is born to battle.’ I took fooly-pride in that when I was a-growin’, but now’s time to live up to the name my parents gave me. I’m a trained combat officer, sir, trained to fight, not to be some superclerk routin’ supplies around the galaxy. I d’not want to be your logistics officer or anyone else’s. I want a combat command. I owe that to my parents – and to Sondak.”

  “Now listen, Colonel, if we need-”

  “No,” she said, angered by his tone. “You listen, sir. I have a free commission-purchased with my parents blood. Since they both died in service, you ca’not hold me in. I can resign my commission any time I damn well please.”

  She paused and caught her breath, fighting the frustration that boiled inside her – knowing she had not convinced him yet. “Either you find a combat command for me in the Planetary Force or I’ll resign this stinkin’ colonelcy and enlist as a common spacer on a line ship. At least there I stand a chance of gettin’ in the middle of it.”

  Schopper stared at her for a long moment after she stopped speaking. “Tell you what,” he said finally, ‘I’ll offer you a compromise. You join my logistics staff now and help work on the plans for invading the U.C.S., and when we put those plans into action, I’ll find a command for you. Is that fair enough?”

  “A combat command,” she insisted.

  “Yes, Colonel Ingrivia, a combat command.”

  She wanted to believe him, but the Service had made other promises to her that were broken as easily as cheap glass on a hard floor. “You’ll warrant that, sir? No tricks, I mean.

  “Damn it, Ingrivia, I said I would do it. What more do you want?” His anger and impatience were clear in his voice.

  Rasha’kean instinctively sensed it was time to ease her pressure on him. She tilted her head and blinked quickly as she gave General Schopper the smile her mother had called “the charmer.” ‘‘I’m sorry, sir. I d’not question your integrity,” she said as she watched the lines in his brow soften. “But, the Service has broken promises before, and I just want to be sure I get to help fight this war.”

  “I know you do, Ingrivia, but you can help most by doing it my way and joining my logistics staff first. There will be time enough for you to get into the fighting.”

  How easy men are to disarm, she thought. The right smile on a pretty face and their resistance is cut in half. Schopper was no more resistant to that cheap tactic than most other men she had known. “All right, sir. I accept.”

  “Good, Ingrivia. Report here tomorro
w morning and I’ll introduce you to the rest of my team. And Colonel?”

  “Yes, sir?” As she stood up, Rasha’kean tried to read the expression on his face.

  “I suggest that you not overuse that disarming smile of yours. Use it too often and it won’t be as effective.”

  For the first time in a long time Rasha’kean blushed. It was only the barest hint of warmth spreading through her cheeks, but she knew it showed. She also knew that she had underestimated General Schopper and would have to be careful not to do that again. “Thank you, sir. I’ll remember that.” She saluted, a natural smile fighting for control of her face.

  “See you in the morning,” Schopper said, returning her salute, “about ten hundred hours.”

  “Yes, sir.” As Rasha’kean turned and left his office, her smile settled into a subdued grin. Life had not offered her much humor in the past ten years, so she took it whenever it came her way. That Schopper had seen through her smile made the idea of working with him far more interesting than it otherwise might have been. That he had done it so quickly offered a challenge that took some of the edge off her disappointment.

  She threaded her way through the crowded hall with a look of determination replacing her grin. Rasha’kean had come to Nordeen with a single purpose in mind, and General Schopper had diverted her from it-at least temporarily. Furthermore, he had told her that she would have to use more than her natural beauty and a quick smile to make sure he kept his end of the bargain.

  Rasha’kean was glad. Sometimes she felt sure that the only reason she had risen so quickly through the ranks was because it was so easy to manipulate those male superiors who reacted positively to her good looks. Sometimes she hated them for making her feel that way and wished she were plain and unattractive. But if she had been unattractive, she might never have wangled this trip to Nordeen out of old General Milligan and thus never have had the chance to present her request to Schopper. If she had been unattractive, she might-

  Her thought was broken as someone bumped her against the wall, and she found herself staring directly into the face of an old Chief Warrant Officer who steadied her with a firm grip on her elbow.

  “Excuse me, Colonel,” he said, releasing her arm with a slight wince. “I’m afraid I wasn’t looking where I was going.” “The fault’s mine, Chief. I wa’not payin’ much attention, either. Did I hurt you?”

  “No, not at all. Shoulder’s just a little sore.” He was immediately struck by the clarity of her voice and the striking beauty of her pikean features, a beauty that was accented by blond hair worn in a much longer style than was commonly seen around Sondak’s Supreme Headquarters.

  She looked at his name tag and then at his insignia and immediately guessed who he was. “You’re the Teller who wrote all those great stories about Sutton in the Flag Report, ar’not you?

  “All compliments accepted,” he said with a quick, waving salute. Chief Henley Stanmorton at your service. And am I safe in assuming, Colonel Ingrivia, that you are related in some way to the late Admiral Ingrivia?”

  “Her daughter, Chief. But how did you know ...”

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. So this was Ingrivia’s daughter. The flood of memories that brought to him was not one he wanted to wade through now, so he dammed it up as efficiently as he could. “I didn’t mean to refresh your grief, but the Ingrivia name is rather famous around here. Would I be prying into military secrets to ask what the colonel is doing here on Nordeen?”

  Rasha’kean smiled. “Are you always so formal with your questions?

  Henley returned her smile. “No, ma’am. If I ask it again less formally, will you answer it?”

  “Only if you’ll show me how to get out of this maze--if you have time, that is.”

  ‘’I’d be delighted, Colonel. I was just leaving myself. Where would you like to go?”

  “First I need somethin’ to eat. Then you can point me t wards the Regular Officers Barracks.”

  “Easy enough,” Henley said. Her accent tickled more memories loose in the back of his mind, but he kept them under control. Yet he couldn’t resist making her an offer. “There is a fine restaurant between here and the ROB that advertises ‘food from every Planets’ and actually comes close to living up to that. Since I am fortunate enough to have a skimmer at my disposal, I’d be glad to take you there.”

  “Lead the way,” Rasha’kean said without hesitation. Stanmorton was about to save her from what might otherwise have been a dull evening.

  The trip to the restaurant was filled mostly by Henley’s trying to answer her questions about the sights along the way. It was only after they had received their drinks and ordered their dinner that he repeated the question he had asked after they bumped into each other.

  “Schopper,” she answered. “I’m the new addition to his staff.”

  “May I ask in what capacity?”

  “Logistics. But I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you for now. What about you? I thought from the tone of your stories that you liked bein’ where the action was.”

  “I do, but for the moment I’m sticking as close to General Schopper as he will let me. I have the feeling that he’s going to be in the center of whatever happens next. “He has a good reputation.”

  “He’s brilliant, Colonel. I was there on Sutton and got to see firsthand how he deployed his troops and coordinated with General Mari’s forces and…” The thought of Mari brought a quick end to his enthusiasm. Sometimes in his dreams he could still smell Mari dying beside him.

  “Wer’not you there – with Mari, I mean – when he died? Di’not I read that in the Flag Report?”

  “Yes, I was there. And it was such a waste.”

  “Why? What made it a waste?”

  “Are you serious?” He held the rest of his reply until their waiter set two small flower-petal salads in front of them and moved away. “Mari was just showing off for the troops, trying to raise their morale before the area was totally secure. He got me shot and he killed because of that.”

  “Your sore shoulder?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a tone in his voice that made her wonder which he was angrier about, his wound or Mari’s death. “You think he was stupid, d’not you?”

  Henley took a forkful of salad and chewed it thoughtfully before answering. “No, not stupid, just foolish. It didn’t have to happen.”

  “But at least we got victories at Sutton and Satterfield,” Rasha’kean said, shifting the subject slightly. She was fascinated by Stanmorton’s willingness to talk so freely. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was a Teller.

  “We can’t afford many more victories like the ones at Sutton and Satterfield – and certainly no more like the one at Matthews’s system.” The salad was good, and it’s slightly bitter flavor matched his mood. “We need to take the war to the Ukes as quickly as we can, not wait for them to come to us.”

  “And you think Schopper can do that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? The Joint Chiefs have decided to back Admiral Gilbert, even after the losses we took at Satterfield. And Gilbert called Schopper back here for intensive planning. Any spacer in the halls could see that-” He quickly cut off the rest of what he meant to say. “I’m sorry, Colonel. I meant no disrespect.”

  “None taken, Chief.” Rasha’kean had not touched her salad so she began to eat steadily, waiting for him to reopen the conversation. When he did, it was not what she expected.

  “You look like your mother,” he said.

  “You kenned her?”

  “Not really,” he lied, wondering why he had brought up her mother again. There was nothing to be gained from it. Did a story on her back in the last war and talked to her a few times after that. She was a very beautiful woman.”

  “And a damned fine officer,” Rasha’kean said, surprised by the vehemence in her voice. Why was beauty the thing he remembered about her mother instead of her achievements? “And a gorlet addict,” Henley added softly
as he picked at his salad.

  Rasha’kean was startled even more. “You kenned that?”

  Suddenly Henley remembered those last few meetings with then Post-Commander Phondu Ingrivia – those personal meetings during which he had tried to counsel her. How could he tell this young colonel what he really knew about her mother? Or the even darker suspicions he had? He couldn’t. It would be cruel and pointless to share that with her.

  “Yes, I knew that. I tried to find help for her.”

  There was a long silence between them as their meal arrived and they began eating. Henley concentrated on the food, annoyed with himself for spoiling the evening but uncertain as to how to make amends.

  Rasha’kean felt uncomfortable in Stanmorton’s presence but at the same time she wanted to ken more about hi connection to her mother. Finally, she had to ask. “You tried to find her help to break her addiction?”

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  Henley looked up into the clear brown eyes and silently cursed his careless tongue for getting this whole thing started. “When you were a young girl. She had given up the gorlet while she was pregnant with you and then years later went back to it. I tried to make her see what it was doing to her, but she wouldn’t listen. I wanted to–“

  “Why? Why were you so concerned about my mother?”

  Rasha’kean needed to know what Stanmorton was holding back from her. Her mother had been the most important person in Rasha’kean’s life, and she never stopped hungering after new information about her.

  Henley couldn’t tell lngrivia the truth, but he was afraid to lie. Somehow he knew she would know if he lied now. “Because she asked for my advice,” he said, giving her a half-truth. “She saw me as a neutral, objective party.”

  Rasha’kean sensed his reluctance. “There’s a lot more to it than that, i’not there, Chief?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “But you’d rather not be talkin’ about it?”