Rebels in Arms

by Ben Weaver

  “Sir, I have a morale problem, and I am—”

  “Of course you got a morale problem. We all got one. These kids have been ripped away from their homes. We’ve shoved weapons into their hands and told them to fight. But you got it even worse because they don’t relate to you.”

  “Because I’m a gennyboy.”

  “Being a mining kid is one thing, but between the epi and the conditioning, you’re not quite human to them. What’re you going to do about that?”

  “Sir, I don’t know, sir.”

  Disque leaned back in his chair, cradled his head in his hands. “Well, you better think about it. And let me tell you something: you can’t run around playing fuckin’ Superman every time your company screws up. You have to teach them right, stand back, and let them do their jobs. What you did, going in there, taking out all those troops…yeah, you got your people out, but you didn’t learn a goddamned thing about being a commander. You cheated your way out of the situation.”

  “But sir—”

  “You hate me, but I’m willing to bet that I’m one of the only guys you’re going to meet who actually gives a crap about your character as an officer. You got it hard, St. Andrew. No doubt about it. Brother killed. Birthmark on your face. Getting a little gray there in the temples because of your fucked-up conditioning…I don’t envy you. Not at all. I do, however, envy the fact that you got a friend in a high place. I just received a communiqué from the office of Mary Brooks. We’re setting up a Hunter-Killer Platoon, sending them into the Minsalo Caves to weed out any Alliance presence still there. They want you to lead it. Maybe you’ve been in those caves before, but I still don’t think you’re ready.”

  “Sir, I am ready.”

  “You calling me a liar?”

  “Sir, no, sir. Just offering a different opinion, sir.”

  “We’ll see.” He stood, accidentally knocked over his chair, then picked it up. “Fuckin’ military issue.”

  I stood, found it hard to meet his scrutinizing gaze. “Sir, would you like me to put together a command team?”

  “You know, if I had any say in this, you wouldn’t be going.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “I’ll put together your team, throw in your three platoon commanders, whom I know you get along with so well. And I’ll make Kohrana your XO. He’ll keep you honest.”

  My shoulders slumped a little. “Yes, sir.”

  “One more thing. Off the record. What do you think happened to Halitov? He’s MIA, but…think he went AWOL?”

  “Sir, no, sir.”

  “Every corpse but his has been accounted for. Air search has nothing. What do you think?”

  “Sir, Captain Halitov would not go AWOL.”

  He studied me. “Then he’d best be dead, because no one deserts on my watch. No one.”

  3

  Disque had been trying to teach me something in that meeting, but I hadn’t been listening. I would earn the respect of my people if I listened to them carefully, then allowed them to find creative solutions to problems. I needed to let them do their jobs and not rush in to save the day. I had failed because I had wanted too badly to win. And I still didn’t know how to accept and learn from my failures. I kept wanting to win because, well, that was easy…

  The strange disappearance of Captain Rooslin Halitov became a popular topic of conversation, second only to war news tawted in from Kennedy-Centauri. While the remainder of my company rotated on watch duty but otherwise enjoyed some much needed R&R, I lay on a thin gelrack in my command tent, listening to the familiar ta-ta-ta of the insects we had nicknamed “triplets” when I had been a South Point cadet. In the distance, an occasional round of particle fire echoed off the mesas. That would be troops warding off the shraxi, those toothy nocturnal carnivores that emerged from their burrows and traveled in threes. Though less than a meter tall when standing on their hind legs, shraxi could take down a man in just a few moments. They were nasty creatures, but I didn’t mind them as much as I could have. Their presence, the cool, dry air, and the music of the triplets swept me away from all the stress. I needed to relax. In just a few hours I’d be traveling via Armored Troop Carrier out to the caves. I imagined I was just a first year again, having only to worry about my studies and physical training.

  My tac beeped. I swore, sat up, activated my HUV, and took the incoming call, which originated from the SSGC Auspex, in orbit with six other troop transports as well as nine capital ships and their support vessels. It was odd that the caller was not identified, but when I saw who it was shimmering ghostlike in the display, I knew why.

  “Hello, again,” said Captain Kristi Breckinridge, wearing her unflappable game face. “I understand you’re heading out to the Minsalo Caves in the morning.”

  “That’s classified.”

  “I have a message for you from Colonel Beauregard. He asks that you do everything possible to find his son.”

  I wondered what was really going on with the brass: I already felt like a pawn, and Beauregard’s message only confirmed that. “Disque told me he got orders from Ms. Brooks. Is that true? Did the colonel twist some arms to get me in there?”

  “I can’t say. And you do, of course, have another mission to accomplish. I understand X-Ray Company’s going out there to secure the conditioning facility.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “You know they’re wasting their time, right? The alliances never got the facility back on-line. According to our intel, that quake caused irreparable damage.”

  “If that’s true, then you and the rest of the Wardens just sat around watching the Seventeen waste resources.”

  “If I’m the colonel, wasting the Seventeen’s resources is not a huge sacrifice—if I can retrieve my son.”

  “Does he know how many people died here? And for what? It’s not like there’s anything of real value, now that you’re saying the conditioning facility can’t be repaired.”

  “What about the caves themselves?”

  “What about them?”

  “If the colonel’s son is there, and Dina is with him…I mean, if she’s alive…”

  “You don’t believe those caves can bring people back from the dead, do you?”

  “You told me you’d been healed by them yourself.”

  “Healed, yeah. Resurrected? No.”

  “Well, I hope you find out in the morning. Last thing: the colonel will honor your request to have Halitov reconditioned, with the understanding that once he is, he becomes a Colonial Warden.”

  “Oh, he understands how blackmail works. He understands it as clearly as you do.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m offering both of you life. Have you checked the news lately? All of the original Sol colonies have fallen. Forget Mars. Forget all of Sol. The alliances are beginning a major push outward. They’re going to leapfrog from system to system, securing each as they go along. Rumor has it they’re getting ready to stage a major offensive at Kennedy-Centauri. The colonial capital will fall if the Wardens don’t intervene. Like it or not, that is the way it is.”

  “Are we done?”

  “Not yet. Why are you lying to me about Halitov?”

  “Lying?”

  “You think I don’t have access? He’s listed MIA.”

  “I never said he wasn’t.”

  “Scott, as much as you don’t like me, I’m here to help you. I’m a resource. We have several people down there who are looking for him right now.”

  My tone softened a little. “Really?”

  “Alive or dead, we’ll find him.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sounds like you still don’t trust me.”

  “Say hi to your brother for me.” I cut the link, imagining the fire in her eyes. Then I sat there, thinking about my friend. Rooslin, what happened to you?

  “Sir?” cried Platoon Sergeant Canada from just outside my tent. “Sorry to disturb you, sir. But we got a problem!”

  I came out of the tent, sa
w her standing there, face illumined by the light stick in her fist. “What is it, Sergeant?”

  “It’s Lieutenant Cavalier, sir.” She turned, pointed outward. “There.”

  Out in the distance, atop one of the smaller cliffs within Virginis Canyon, stood Second Lieutenant Cavalier. I immediately skinned up, zoomed in on him for a better look. He was naked, arms outstretched against the great silhouettes of rock and the dusty curtain of stars. His head lolled back, his eyes closed, and his mouth fell open, as though in ecstasy. He stood mere inches from the sheer drop-off, the canyon floor a dizzying three hundred meters below. I de-skinned. “Airjeep! Now!”

  “They’re on patrol. It’s going to take a few minutes, sir.”

  “How the hell did he get up there?” I said, breaking into a jog toward the canyon.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he bribed an MP to drop him off.”

  Privates from Yankee Company positioned along the barracks’ perimeter began fanning out from their posts, drawing closer to the cliff for a better look.

  As I neared the canyon, I still couldn’t believe that one of my officers stood atop a wall of mottled strata that we cadets had called Whore Face, because of her good hand-and footholds. It appeared one of my officers was going to commit suicide on my old training ground.

  “How long on that airjeep, Sergeant?” I hollered.

  “Couple minutes.”

  We reached the canyon floor directly below Cavalier, and I had to skin up to see his face. “Cavalier!” His name echoed off into the night. He didn’t react.

  I swept my gaze down, across the rock, all the way to the floor. Three hundred meters. If the quantum bond remained true, I could scale that in a few heartbeats, make it up top, maybe talk him down. But if the bond failed, even my skin wouldn’t save me. I’d rebound until most of my bones were broken. Was his life worth the risk?

  Trembling with indecision, I stared once more at him, actually smiled as I thought, It’s just a dream. After that call from Breckinridge, I fell back asleep, and this is just a dream. I don’t have to feel guilty about not trying to save this guy…

  “I think he’s going to jump, sir,” said Canada, as Cavalier wormed a little closer to the edge, dirt dropping off from his toes, now hanging in the air.

  “Jesus God, what do we got now?” boomed Disque as he marched up beside me. My bad luck placed the lieutenant-colonel’s command tent only a hundred meters away.

  “I think he’s hallucinating, sir,” Canada said.

  “Oh, really? Thought he was just taking the family jewels for a walk,” Disque retorted, then he skinned up, set the volume on his voice way up to mimic an old-fashioned bullhorn. “Lieutenant, what in God’s name are you doing on my cliff?”

  It was all I could do to remain there and listen to Lieutenant-colonel Jesus work his “subtle persuasion” on Cavalier.

  “Son, I asked you a question,” Disque shouted, now even more incensed.

  Without another thought, I just did it, ran like I was on fire, found the bond, exploited the hell out of it, and began sprinting up the canyon wall as though it were the floor.

  “Holy shit,” Disque cried. I wanted to believe he’d seen other conditioned officers in action, but a feat of this magnitude had probably never reached his eyes.

  All right, so I did trip over a few pitons jutting from the rock. Those little metal spikes had been left over from all our training exercises, but they didn’t stop me from reaching the top and rounding the corner about four meters away from Cavalier, who still hadn’t opened his eyes.

  Tentatively, I stepped toward him. “Aaron. Hey, man. I’m right over here.”

  “You think I want to die?” he asked, then began chuckling to himself. “That why you think I’m up here?”

  “One of my officers strips naked, stands at the edge of a cliff, and I’m thinking he wants to jump. Call me crazy.”

  “St. Andrew, get that idiot away from the edge right now!” ordered Disque.

  “Sir, yes, sir!” I boomed halfheartedly.

  “I love it,” said Cavalier. “All this attention, me right here on the edge, surrounded by nature. I love it. This place, this moon, Exeter…it’s alive. It knows I’m here. It’s aware of me. And I mean something to it, just like right now, I mean something to all of you. My life matters.”

  Blinding lights wiped past me, shone in my eyes a second as an airjeep rose from the canyon, hovered a few meters away from us. An MP rose from the passenger’s seat, aimed a CZX Forty antigrav rifle at Cavalier. “Lieutenant, stand down!”

  “Hey, I got this,” I shouted to the MP.

  “It’s a security problem now, Captain,” barked the MP.

  “Aaron, they’re going to hit you with the CZX to make sure you don’t jump. You know what that’s going to feel like. Just move back from the edge.”

  “No, I’m going to stay here, and I’m going to be important, and my life’s going to really matter, and people are going to remember me. That’s what I’m going to do. That’s what’s going to happen.”

  A quick hiss, and the MP fired—but the weapon’s beam did not lock on to and encase Cavalier in its energy. The MP had misadjusted the power setting, and the beam blasted Cavalier over the edge.

  I gasped, slid out toward the drop-off, saw him dropping away, heard his cry…

  And one, two, three, I leapt over the side, after him.

  In those days, I considered myself pretty damned foolish because only a fool would throw himself off a cliff knowing that the bond, his only safety net was, at best, unreliable.

  Then again, that wasn’t the first time I had literally jumped off a cliff. Before I was conditioned, I had fallen from that very wall and been saved by Sergeant Pope. Clearly, the universe was toying with me, amusing itself through my angst and its repetition of time and place.

  About halfway down, I knew I’d be all right. The bond surged within me. But about halfway down, I also realized that I would not reach Cavalier in time, and no one below had a CZX to save him. He hit the ground, back first, and his entire body snapped like a twig and went limp. I hit the deck, bent my knees, and my skin tapered off as I willed myself away from the bond.

  A handful of grunts gaped at me, finding more interest in my jump than in Cavalier’s death. I rushed to my lieutenant, checked his neck for a carotid pulse. No pulse. No chance.

  “All right, everyone, back to your posts,” ordered Disque. “Louis, get a detail in here to”—he made a face at Cavalier’s broken body—“take care of this.”

  Louis, a sergeant from Yankee Company, saluted and activated his tac.

  Disque came over, and, surprisingly, put a hand on my shoulder. “Son,” he began quietly, almost sympathetically, “your people…they’re dropping like flies.”

  “Bad joke, sir,” I said, my gaze not straying from Cavalier.

  “Yeah,” Disque said. “Bad joke.”

  At 0600 local time, X-Ray, Yankee, and Zodiac Companies piled into admin’s war-torn primary assembly hall for a nondenominational memorial service in honor of our fallen comrades. The regimental commander, Vivian Hurly, read a little speech from the screen of a palm-sized tablet, while we stood in formation. I noted that we had heard the quote-laden speech at least twice before. There was nothing personal, nothing uniquely passionate about words she would continue to recycle. Disque, of course, also went through the motions, though he did shock some of us and his superiors, when, at the close of his brief remarks, he said, “A lot of people died here—but we still kicked fuckin’ ass. Remember that!”

  Those not shocked included the back row of grunts, most from Yankee Company, who cheered and repeated his message at the tops of their lungs until squad corporals evil-eyed them into silence.

  After the service, we ate, though I couldn’t stomach much more than a piece of toast and some lukewarm coffee. I met up with Canada, who now officially assumed Cavalier’s spot, and we headed out to the airfield. Javelin and Thomason had already gone off to fet
ch our gear from the supply sergeant.

  We took a path overlooking the academy grounds from about a hundred meters up. I had taken the route many times during my cadet days. Thin columns of smoke still rose from the barracks where X-Ray Company had taken on Marines dug in between the buildings. Still more smoke rose from the library and classroom buildings, both of which had sustained major damage from artillery fire. The longer I looked out at the academy, the more depressed I felt. The training ground of my cadet days—a place where we had all been wonderfully naive and untouched by war—was vanishing before my eyes.

  “Sir, I, uh, I wanted to, now that we have a moment, I wanted to talk you about…” Canada sighed against her stammering.

  “What is it, Sergeant?”

  “So I’m officially in charge of the Fifty-first now.”

  “I’ll have your star in hand right after this Op.”

  “So I really get the star, all ten points, just like that?”

  “Are you kidding me? Yesterday, I was a cadet. After this place got invaded, and we made it out, they gave me my commission, a platoon, and sent me home to Gatewood-Callista. My first platoon mutinied on me. So they made me a captain and gave me Zodiac Company.” I grinned over the irony. “I love the Seventeen.”

  “Sir, I’m not ready.”

  “You think I was? You think I am? They can dump all the information they want into your brain, but data can never replace real experience happening in real time. The tech guys will argue with me there, tell me that data contains experiences, memories that will seem as real as any others. But there’s always a little voice in my head that tells me you never did this, you never learned that. It’s just the cerebro. They can’t erase your doubt without erasing you.”

  “Which is why I’m not ready.”

  “Which is the reason why you’re perfect for the job. You’re a clean slate, ready to be molded into a powerful and decisive officer based on very real combat experiences. You’ll be okay.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I know you’re desperate for personnel.”

  “We’re all desperate, and the shortage will get worse if we don’t have good leaders.”