by Ben Weaver
“Where’s Jing?” I asked.
“Right here,” she said, shifting around the conduits and carrying Breckinridge’s bloody body.
Halitov took Breckinridge into his arms, then regarded us, the skin protecting his face turning transparent to reveal tears streaming down his cheeks. “Motherfuckers.” He fought for breath and bared his teeth. Tears stained my own cheeks, and when I glanced to Jing, she, too, was crying. Paul managed to hold back, but he was clearly on the brink.
“She was a bitch,” Jing said. “A real bitch.”
“Yeah,” Paul agreed.
Jing closed her eyes. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We all found the bond and leapt from rooftop to rooftop, occasionally drawing fire but darting so quickly from it that the Marines below saw only vague flashes of light.
A massive limb grew just over the roof of one building, and we bounded onto it, traveling quickly across the smooth, wide wood and onto a rope bridge similar to the one back at Orokean. As we hustled across the wooden planks, perhaps thirty or fifty streams of particle fire blasted from the darkness below and tore through the bridge. Five minutes prior we had opted to conserve our energy and release ourselves from the bond. We’d tap into it only as a last resort. The time had come much too quickly.
“Scott! Move it!” cried Paul as he reached the end of the bridge and whirled back.
I was bringing up the rear, shot a look over my shoulder, and saw the planks near the opposite end falling away. Halitov and Jing reached the edge, and I envisioned myself there, hoping the bond would comply. Nothing. I put my boot down, even as the plank dropped away. I reached for the rope railing, but it whipped too quickly away, and the darkness rushed up and morphed into the gray plain of the leaf bed below. I had already fallen about fifty meters, and if I couldn’t slow myself, I’d rebound until my skin failed and my bones shattered. I swore at the bond, cursed my conditioning, and damned to hell my desire to become a soldier. I was a heartbeat away from smashing into the surface when I jerked in midair, froze, craned my neck.
Across from me stood an Alliance Marine, a sergeant brandishing a CZX Forty, its thick barrel emitting the wave that had captured me. I struggled to break free, but without the bond, I felt as though I were pushing against a bubble that yielded to my touch but would not pop. The sergeant thumbed a switch. I banged onto the ground, got on my hands and knees, and slowly raised my head.
“Don’t move!” the sergeant boomed, as seven or eight of his troops surrounded me, the muzzles of their particle rifles held just above my combat skin, near my back and ribs. I doubted I could break free in time. One of their beads would weaken my skin and finish me.
“Scott,” Paul called on my private channel. “Give me your eyes.”
“You got them,” I whispered, then quietly allowed him access to my HUV.
“Okay,” he said. “Just stay there.”
“Don’t waste your time. Go meet your father,” I said.
“On your feet!” ordered the sergeant. “Now!”
I slowly raised my hands, sat back on my haunches, and was about to stand when three shimmering phantoms dropped behind the circle of Marines.
A few grunts must have turned their heads, and in that second, Jing, Halitov, and Paul were on them, ripping away their rifles and pounding them to the ground. Two, maybe three other Marines opened fire on me, and I scrambled forward, even as they swung their beads around, toward the new attackers. I rolled, and there was the sergeant, about to hit the entire group with the CZX. I darted up, yanking free my Ka-Bar and charging toward him. His eyes bugged as I dropkicked him down, then recovered, forced away the muzzle of a particle pistol he had drawn, and tingled with the bond as my blade penetrated his combat skin. He emitted a horrible gasp as I opened up his heart.
By the time I finished, the others had taken out the Marines, and the howl of turbines echoed overhead.
“Copy that,” said Paul, in contact with his father. “You’re right on top of us.”
The ATC dropped in a vertical descent, weaving dangerously through clawlike clusters of tree limbs until it hovered just a meter off the ground. The rear hatch folded open, and the colonel waved us inside.
“Where’s Jing?” I asked.
“She’s up top, getting Kristi,” answered Halitov.
I nodded and climbed wearily into the hold. I never thought a jumpseat could feel so good. The ATC rumbled up, toward the limb where Jing now stood, holding Breckinridge’s body. The ship pivoted, lining up with the limb, and Jing carefully carried Breckinridge inside.
The colonel gazed soberly at Breckinridge, put a hand on her cheek, then closed his eyes. “Goddamn it.”
“Goddamn it is right,” yelled Halitov. “How the fuck could you let this happen? This entire planet is going to fall to the alliances. That part of your plan?”
“Shut up,” Paul said. “You’re way out of line. And it’s not his fault.”
“Oh, yeah?” Halitov asked. “Oh, yeah?”
I gave Halitov the look I used when I wanted him to be quiet. He knew that look, widened his eyes even more and, thankfully, said no more.
Surprisingly, the colonel said nothing in his own defense and returned to his jumpseat beside Ms. Brooks’s. For a moment, my gaze met hers. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
“What?” I mouthed back.
She just looked away.
Was she sorry for everything? For something in particular? I alone had made the choice to join the Wardens. She didn’t need to apologize for anything.
Or so I had thought.
“Colonel, we’re within transmission range,” reported the pilot.
“Very well.” The colonel leveled his gaze on me and Halitov. “Gentlemen, it’s best you hear this from me. Intel indicates that Alliance Marines have penetrated the conditioning facility. We can no longer hold that position.”
“So when the time is right, we come back. And we take it,” said Halitov.
“Negative. We can’t allow the alliances to use that facility. If they condition more soldiers and get them out on the front lines, we won’t stand a chance.”
“What are you saying, sir?” I asked.
“I think you know what I’m saying. And I think you know we’ve taken precautions against something like this ever happening.”
“You’re going to blow it up,” I said, losing my breath.
“Ms. Brooks?” The colonel regarded her forcefully.
She lifted her tablet, touched a button.
“You fuck!” Halitov screamed. “You can’t do this!” He shoved up his safety bars and went for the colonel, then he changed his mind and lunged for Ms. Brooks. He ripped the tablet from her grasp and smashed it across her safety bars.
“It’s already done,” she yelled. “It’s already done!”
I pried up my own bars, stood, went to the rectangular porthole, where below, a tremendous white light, as a brilliant as a sun, swelled violently.
“Tawting out,” the pilot reported. “In three, two, one…”
17
The Colonial Wardens had destroyed AQ Tower and the Eri Flower to prevent them from falling into enemy hands. Likewise, the colonel had chosen to destroy the second conditioning facility, and his decision would later be considered by military historians as a brilliant tactical maneuver, one that had saved many more lives than it had cost.
At the time, though, Halitov and I were livid, and understandably so, since our biological clocks were still misfiring without any hope of repair. Ms. Brooks’s continued apologies and reassurances that Warden researchers were doing everything they could to address our accelerated aging hardly comforted us.
Instead of meeting up with Vanguard One, the colonel had our ATC pilot tawt us all the way back to Rexi-Calhoon, where Ms. Brooks, along with the joint chiefs, was going to make an impassioned plea to congress. She hoped that the senators would endorse the Seventeen System Guard Corps’s reorganization under Colonial Warden lea
dership. If they didn’t, the Wardens would take over the Corps anyway. In the meantime, Halitov, Jing, and I were taken to Rexicity Strikebase for debriefing, shown our bunkrooms, and told to report to the Lieutenant Colonel Diablo’s office at thirty-one hundred local time. After we finished changing into fresh utilities, Colonel Beauregard and Paul arrived and escorted us to the chapel for Kristi Breckinridge’s memorial service. Her remains would be jettisoned into space, as per her will’s instructions. Halitov stood there bitterly, as the colonel, in a very practiced tone, discussed Breckinridge’s unwavering commitment to the Wardens. I tried numbing myself to the whole affair, but all I could think about was that moment when Halitov had been holding her in his arms.
When we returned to our quarters, Halitov said, “You know, back on Exeter, I got the feeling from Paul that he wasn’t buying what his daddy’s selling. But did you see him at that service? He’s bought into this so much he’s already on credit. Then again, he’s reconditioned. He ain’t fucked—like us. Goddamn it, look at me.” He went to the dressing mirror and stared long and hard at his graying hair and wrinkled forehead. “Jesus, God…”
I didn’t look much better, but deep down, I welcomed the aging, welcomed the opportunity to retire before the military’s absurdity drove me completely insane. And maybe I wanted to punish myself for the mistakes I had made and put an end to the guilt that turned my stomach. I think for a while there, I didn’t want to live, so the aging didn’t bother me all that much.
Jing sauntered up to Halitov and gave him the once-over. “You still look okay.”
“You’re not making me feel better,” he growled.
She sighed. “Sorry.”
I plopped down on the bunk, eyed the sparse quarters with more than a little disdain, then faced Jing. “What about me? How do I look?”
“You don’t want me to answer that.”
“That bad?”
She glanced away. “I didn’t say that.”
Halitov moved off from the mirror. “Hey, you guys, I got an idea.”
“Every few years that happens to him,” I told Jing, deadpan.
She almost smiled. “Really?”
Halitov crouched down opposite me. “Listen up. The Wardens…they need us more than we need them. And now they can’t even recondition us. If we’re going to die soon, then I want a hell of a lot more than what they’re payin’.”
“What do you want?” Jing asked.
“First thing is intel about my sister. Then I want a ton of money to be deposited into her accounts. If I ain’t ever going to have kids, maybe she will. I want her kids to be set for life. Then, if I’m still alive, I want a nice place, waterfront. I want a lifetime supply of alcohol, and I want women. If the Wardens can’t supply, then I go work for the highest bidder. I think it’s high time we recognize our value and cash in on it. Look what happened to Kristi. They used her, and she died out there…like an animal.”
“I already told Scott that I’m paid pretty well,” said Jing. “Though I will take the booze. You can keep the women.”
“What if the alliances would pay more? Does it really matter whom you work for?” Halitov asked. “Does it really?”
She sniggered, but only a little. “Guess not.”
Halitov eyed me strangely. “No argument? You okay with screwing over the Wardens?”
“So what’re you going to do? Give the alliances a call? Tell ’em you’re available if the price is right?” I asked.
“Basically, yeah…”
I returned my deepest frown. “What happened to loyalty?”
“Nothing. I’m loyal to you, me, and maybe her,” he said, tipping his head at Jing.
“Oh, thanks,” she said sarcastically.
“I’m not loyal to any government or any organization,” Halitov said. “We’ve already seen what that’ll get us.”
“So you think we oughta march into the lieutenant colonel’s office and let him have it?” I asked.
He nodded. “Are you with me?”
I glanced to Jing, who half shrugged, then I faced Halitov. “No.”
He snorted. Loudly. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“The Wardens still have things I want: the truth about my brother and a chance to get back to Exeter. I’m not going to jeopardize them by making demands for money and whores—”
“Scott—”
“But that doesn’t mean you can’t go in there and do that. If you want to go off and fight for the alliances because you can cut a better deal with them, then do it. Don’t let us stop you.”
“You know I won’t leave without you.”
I stood, took a deep breath. “And all of this assuming they’ll let you break the contract you signed when you were a cadet. That’ll never happen. Come on. Forget about this. Let’s get something to eat.”
He boiled a moment more, then, resignedly, dragged himself toward the door. “I’ll tell you something: if they don’t have spaghetti and meatballs in that mess, I’m definitely joining the alliances.”
Jing flicked a puzzled look my way. “Trust me,” I told her. “It’s not worth explaining.”
After listening to Halitov bitch about how the spaghetti was undercooked, we killed some time by going up top and having an airjeep driver give us a grand tour of the base, which, from the air, appeared quite unremarkable—just a series of tarmacs with subterranean launch points surrounded by rather stubby-looking towers. Most of the base lay nearly a kilometer underground, and, not unlike the ancient aircraft carriers that sailed Earth’s seas, the base was designed to service atmoattack jets within the caves, then send them up, through the tunnels, to rocket away and attack. We got a firsthand demonstration of that capability as, without warning, dozens of squadrons jetted up through the gaping dark orifices, fleeing like bats from a score of caves.
“What’s going on?” Jing asked the driver, who had skinned up and was in contact with the base.
“Western Alliance fleet just tawted into the system,” the young man said. “They got Aire-Wu. Guess we’re next. And the lieutenant colonel wants you back.”
My gaze locked on the skies, on all those fighters, until the driver dived toward the airjeep access tunnel that would return us to the billet and administrative offices.
We reached the drop-off gate and nervously hopped out. Then, with alarms booming throughout the corridors, we jogged down to the lieutenant colonel’s office, where we found him at his desk, skinned up and scanning multiple databars in his HUV.
“Sir, Major Scott St. Andrew reporting as ordered, sir!” I said, snapping to.
Halitov and Jing repeated the same, coming to attention alongside me.
Lieutenant Colonel Diablo, a dusky-skinned man with a thin mustache and narrow, dark eyes, saluted sharply, then came around his desk. “At ease.”
“Sir, we’re under attack, sir?” I asked.
“Not yet. Looks like a standoff so far.” He thumbed the corner of a tablet on his desk, and a holo shimmered before us.
Seven Alliance capital ships and their battle groups sailed silently through space at a range 1.7 million kilometers. Squaring off with them was a joint fleet of Colonial Warden and Seventeen System Guard Corps ships, eleven in all, with the planet shining like a tiny piece of granite behind them.
Diablo switched off the holo. “If the attack does begin in earnest, and crab carriers do get through, we’ll need everyone we have down here.”
“Understood,” I said.
“Sir, what about Captain Beauregard?” Jing asked.
“Ironically enough, he just tawted out with his father aboard Vanguard One. They’re leading a strike team back to Exeter. I’m hoping I can get them back.”
Halitov and I exchanged a look of disgust, then I said, “Sir, I respectfully request that we be reassigned to the colonel’s unit, sir.”
“Major, are you kidding? That fleet is poised to attack. You’re not going anywhere. I’m giving you Fifth Battalion, with Halitov here
as your XO. Lieutenant Jing? You’ll be promoted to captain and assigned to Saturn Company.”
Halitov stepped forward. “I’m afraid that’s not satisfactory, sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sir, this sounds like we’re getting a raw deal, sir.”
“A raw deal? You people are members of the Colonial Wardens. We assign. You go. Hell, at least you’re all in the same battalion, thanks to your friend, Ms. Brooks.”
Halitov’s cheeks flushed. “With all due respect, sir, fuck that!”
I turned, grabbed my friend by the throat. “What’re you doing?”
“You know, I would expect this kind of insubordination from raw recruits, but to find it in conditioned officers…”
“Sir, he didn’t mean it, sir,” I said. “We’ve just been through a lot.”
Diablo considered that, then finally nodded. “Given the loss of Captain Breckinridge, I’ll overlook that remark Mr. Halitov, but I should remind you that I have a very low tolerance level. Understood?”
I increased my grip on Halitov’s throat. “Yes, sir,” he gasped.
“We’re a special operations group, and we like to believe we’ve recruited only the best. I’ll expect nothing less from all of you.”
“Yes, sir,” Jing and I answered in unison.
“Yes, sir,” Halitov muttered.
“Now then, I’ll upload battalion data to your tablets. You’d best get oriented—now. Although we outnumber them, I have a feeling Alliance Marines will make planetfall.”
I lifted my chin. “Sir, one more thing. The colonel and Ms. Brooks said I’d be able to see my brother. Ms. Brooks was going to set up a meeting, but she never said anything before she left.”