Warzone: Nemesis: A Novel of Mars

by Morris Graham

  “Well, girl, looks like we still have friends where it counts.”

  Kahless had finished feeding Blaze breakfast just in time. A sharp knock on the door announced that his aide was here to pick her up. The young private called her to heel and walked her to tac ops, and Kahless got dressed for his interview with MAJ Sawbones. Kahless heated some leftover rice and steak from last night set the teapot to boil. After breakfast and two cups of tea, Kahless got dressed for his interview with MAJ Sawbones. Wearing his uniform jacket and with hat in hand, he walked with his “escort” to sick bay. At the sight of their highly respected but troubled commander, everyone that he passed became still and quiet, and snapped to attention and held the salute until he was no longer in sight.

  MAJ Sawbones greeted Kahless when he arrived at sickbay. He directed the guards to wait outside of sick bay, and ushered Kahless into his office. Mounted on the wall behind his desk was a medical diploma from the National Naval Medical Center, alongside a diploma declaring he had completed his Surgical Critical Care fellowship. He pointed at the couch.

  “No thanks, Doc. I’d rather sit.”

  “Suit yourself.” Both men took a seat.

  “Colonel, this is a routine fitness exam that you are required to take every six months. It is not linked to the events of yesterday, but I would like to use those events to gauge your fitness. My duty is to be objective and determine thing, and one thing only—to identify if you have a physical, emotional or mental problem that would prevent you from doing your job in a safe and effective manner, or jeopardize the men under your command. I will ask you several questions about the recent events, to determine if you have a firm grasp of reality regarding these events and if the thought processes driving your behavior were rational.”

  “Understood.”

  “Colonel, the report states that you did willfully, without consulting any of your superiors or even you own men; sneak out of here with the intent of killing COL Kiknadze. Is that about right?”

  “That sums it up.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “COL Kiknadze was a clear threat to our post. His recent breaking of the accord and the assassination of COL SEAL showed that he was willing to set ambushes for command officers, even at the cost of violating the accord and plunging us into all-out war.”

  “Ah, COL SEAL… And exactly when did you decide upon this course of action.”

  “The day of the ambush near Valles Marineris.”

  “Did you feel responsible for COL SEAL’s death?”

  “I felt I had failed to protect him.”

  “Did you believe that your two tanks could defeat five or theirs?”

  “No, but we did defeat them—though the cost was very high.”

  “Were you responsible for his death?”

  “No, I did not order the attack.”

  “Did you feel responsible?”

  “Yes.”

  “How could you have been responsible?”

  “I was not, but knowledge and feelings are two different things. I felt as if I had failed to protect my commander.” The doctor wrote some more in his notebook, then looked at Kahless, his eyes narrowing.

  “What were the circumstances surrounding the death of LTC Matulevich?”

  “We laid a trap for two squadrons of Soviet tanks. LTC Matulevich was among the enemy casualties.”

  “Did you kill him yourself?”

  “I did.”

  “Was he trying to surrender?”

  “He was not.”

  “I see…” MAJ Sawbones stroked his chin thoughtfully, jotted down some more notes, and studied his patient. Kahless felt uncomfortable under the doctor’s scrutinizing gaze. “Colonel, I understand that you forged a rather impressive blade.”

  “I did.”

  “Was this to kill Col Kiknadze?”

  “I was hopeful.”

  “You waited some time for the opportunity to act on this plan.”

  “I was patient, yes.”

  “Did you suffer from disturbing dreams or nightmares during the time between the death of your commander and the killing of the Soviet commander?”

  Kahless hesitated, touched his nose, and then his mouth. “No.”

  The doctor took off his glasses, rubbed his eye absent-mindedly, placed his glasses back on and wrote in his journal: Subject is lying, when he says he hasn’t been having bad dreams or nightmares.

  “Let’s move along, Colonel. Why did you feel the need to go it alone? You have a very good sniper team, headed up I believe by CPT OSOK?”

  “Yes, my sniper team is top-notch. Frankly, I felt that ordering an assassination was an immoral order.”

  “Hmmm.” The doctor chewed the end of his pen, obviously lost in thought. “You regularly deploy sniper teams to take out enemy targets on the battlefield. What makes this different?”

  “He was not on any battlefield.”

  “Why was your dispatching of Col Kiknadze any different from an assassination?”

  “I was one of the intended targets of the assassination attempt. He had a debt to pay. We had lost two post commanders in less than a year. The scales were unbalanced; our position here was threatened in both the posture of the enemy and also the morale of my men.” The patient was sitting with both palms on the table, face up and relaxed. The doctor wrote some more in his report: the patient believes he had good reason for his actions, and possesses rational thought.

  “Colonel, do you feel that your quest to kill both Matulevich and Kiknadze was an obsession, clouding your judgment?”

  “I have a question for you, Doctor, if I may be so bold.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s say, in hindsight, I admit that this was probably a poor judgment call based on an obsession.”

  The doctor leaned back and rested his hand on his chin, eyes studying his patient with keen interest. “Okay, go on.”

  “Both objects of my obsession are dead. Doesn’t that remove any motivation for clouded judgment in the future?”

  “If in hindsight you realize that it was not the best action to take, yes.” Kahless paused, eyed the doctor, exhaled but said nothing.

  “Colonel, consider this. Are you a chess player.”

  “You know I am.”

  “Yes—and a good one.”

  “Just this… The queen is the most powerful piece on the board, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you think about a player who launches an attack his opponent with just the queen?”

  “Foolish—high risk—sometimes wins, often times lose the queen and then the balance of power shift dramatically and he loses.” Kahless exhaled, leaned over and pinched the bridge of his nose, then moved his hand to his cheek, looking thoughtful. “Me, right?”

  “Yes, you. What happens when the chess player uses all of the resources of the board?”

  “Less risk, more chance of victory.”

  “Colonel, this interview is over. I will submit my report to central command.”

  “How did I do?”

  “From the perspective of emotional or mental defect, I find no issues that you can’t solve with the help of the chaplain. Your blood work is still outstanding, but I expect to find nothing physical.”

  “Thanks, Doc. I guess my escorts are waiting.”

  “No hurry. They either stand by your door or mine. Anyone buy you a drink for killing Kiknadze? ”

  “SGT Gutshot dropped off a couple of beers and supper last night, but nobody’s sat me down and bought me a drink.”

  The doctor pulled a key out of his desk drawer and unlocked a cabinet on the wall. He opened the cabinet door and pulled out a dusty bottle and blew off the dust. “Wild Turkey, eight years old, straight Kentucky bourbon… I’ve been saving this for such an occasion.” He grabbed two glasses and poured each of them a drink of the amber liquid and slid the glass over to Kahless. “Colonel, I am a man just like you. You—you’re a fighter; me—I’m a healer. But I’m here
for the same reason you are.” He lifted his glass. “Here’s to a successful, though ill-advised mission,” he paused and a slight smile formed at his lips, “and coming back alive.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Both men took a sip, nursed their drinks and made them last as though they were tring to freeze this moment in time, a snapshot of calm within a storm. Finally it was over, and Kahless returned back to his quarters, and contemplated his fate being decided by lawyers.

  CPT Litigator arrived to find CPT Defender already seated at the table, briefcase open, and papers on the table. The defense attorney rose. “Captain, care for a cup of coffee?”

  “No, thanks. Have a seat. Let’s get started.”

  “Very well.”

  The prosecutor opened his briefcase, took out some papers, took his glasses out of his coat pocket, and slid them onto the bridge of his hawkish nose. “You’re client is facing two charges, failure to maintain the security and integrity of his post, and abandoning his post. I have read his statement—interesting read. Are you prepared to take your case to trial?”

  “Sure. Let’s talk about the charges.”

  “Ok… failure to maintain the security and integrity of his post. It is the position of the prosecution that your client did willfully place a valuable asset of the post in danger, namely himself, in a foolhardy venture. Had he been captured, especially without an accord, he may have been tortured to reveal sensitive information to compromise the integrity and security of the post.”

  “Seventy-two hours—anything sensitive can be changed in seventy-two hours. A missing commander would cause security changes to be initiated immediately, and in fact, they were… And, he wasn’t captured.”

  “Still, it is bad for morale to have their commander captured. This weakens the integrity of the post.”

  “He was successful. You can’t argue that. It is very good for morale that he killed their commander.”

  “You’re client—”

  “Dammit Pat, my client is a decorated colonel and a command officer, and he will be referred to as colonel in this meeting.”

  “Very well, John. At the very least, your client, COL Kahless showed very poor judgment.”

  “Maybe… but it was a judgment call, and his to make. His order to defend the integrity and security of the post is something left to interpretation.”

  “I saw the statement. So COL Kahless is maintaining that he acted in the interest of this post?”

  “The results speak for themselves. That charge will not hold up. I will make you look very foolish at court-martial.”

  “Let’s move along to the charge of abandoning his post. He left his post, alone, without being properly relieved.”

  “Every day COL Kahless goes on patrols and engagements in the field, and he remains commander, though he is away from the post. It is our contention that he left his post, not to abandon it, but to engage the enemy.”

  “Hmmm, interesting…”

  “Pat, you got nothing. If you bring this to court-martial, you will lose, and whoever started this witch hunt will find it ending his career.”

  “Off the record?”

  “Off the record.”

  “The driving force behind this is MG Whitacre—two star general, district commander over Ganymede, Io, Callisto, and Europa. BG Moore, district commander over Luna and Mars, is said to be retiring soon. MG Whitacre has his eye on moving his command closer to home.”

  “Why is that a concern for COL Kahless?”

  “June 1976—CPT Cowboy, now COL Kahless, spent time at Miami Beach on leave.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s just say that he met a pretty girl on summer break from college, spent time with her: left her, never called, and never wrote. Let’s say this girl went home and wept for three days, quit college and married some pothead. They had a couple of kids. Then he went to prison on drug charges, and now they’re divorced.”

  “Tell me why this is an issue for Col Kahless.”

  “Her name was Wendy Whitacre—and that, my friend, is off the record.”

  “This is harassment and a personal grudge.”

  “Maybe so. I have been instructed to get my pound of flesh.”

  “You got nothing, and you know it.”

  “True, but the court-martial will be on Earth. Somehow shuttle schedules have been altered. There won’t be another one leaving here for two months. By then the orbital alignments will be such as it will take four more months to get there. The court-martial will drag on until even if COL Kahless wins—and I have no doubt of your litigating prowess, then the colonel will be due to take his one month leave. By the time it’s over, the orbital alignments will give you another four month trip. Oh, did I mention by that time BG Moore will be retired, and MG Whitacre will be his new district commander? I guarantee you that MG Whitacre has enough juice to survive a failed attempt to court-martial COL Kahless. In any case, if you fight it, the process will have COL Kahless out of action for over a year. He may then find that after he returns to duty that he is working for a new district commander who hates him. Satisfy the general now or satisfy him later.”

  “And if COL Kahless cooperates?”

  “We’ll drop the first charge and reduce the second one to being AWOL, absent without leave.”

  “What if he pleads guilty?”

  “Demotion of rank to lieutenant colonel for six months but he keeps his command.”

  “Is that all?”

  The prosecutor smiled. “You’ve heard the saying that all regulations are written in blood?”

  “Yes, once the blood of our men has been spilled from some screw-up, the legal boys start writing regulations.”

  “Exactly. In this case, the regs are written in Kiknadze’s blood. However, there was the potential of it having been your client’s blood. Your colonel has made history. He is the first and last post commander ever to leave his post alone.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The temptation to repeat the colonel’s ill-conceived venture is being removed. Central Command is rewriting all post commanders’ orders, and implementing security measures to ensure compliance.” He made a clipping motion with his two fingers. “Your colonel is getting his wings clipped, one way or another. This alone goes a long way toward appeasing the general.”

  CPT Defender put his papers back in his briefcase and rose. “I will submit this to my client.”

  “The colonel.” A tight smile formed at the prosecutor mouth at being able to catch his opponent calling him client after making an issue out of it.

  “Yes, the colonel.”

  “John, it was nothing personal. I’ve got a job to do. Ironic isn’t it? If you hadn’t had your hip socket destroyed by a sniper bullet, you might have been COL Night Hawk.”

  “The right man has the job.”

  “You genuinely admire him, don’t you?” his voice laced with cynicism.

  “Yes. You don’t?”

  “It’s not my job to have my vision clouded with hero worship. My job is to uphold military justice. Well, if your client, the colonel, signs off on this, we can grab a beer later to conclude the deal.”

  “Sure—seventeen hundred, my quarters.”

  “You’re on.”

  Kahless was alone in his quarters, dressed in a t-shirt, fatigues, and sneakers, doing push-ups on the living room floor. There was a sharp knock on the door.

  “Come,” he called. He got up, grabbed a towel and wiped off his sweaty brow.

  The guards at the door granted his attorney access. Briefcase in hand, his demeanor was more relaxed this time. “Colonel, I’ve just spoken with the prosecutor.”

  “Have a seat,” Kahless pointed to the table, and threw his towel into the dirty clothes hamper. His advocate took a seat and placed his briefcase on the table, and Kahless joined him. “What do you have for me?”

  “To start with, nobody is going to repeat your behavior. New orders are being cut for every post command officer, specifical
ly spelling out that leaving alone is a violation. No command officer will have access codes to do the things you did. Quite frankly, no command officer will be able to open a hangar door without his first officer, tac ops and the hangar chief’s approval.”

  “Should have seen that coming. Oh, well.”

  “Colonel, I think I have a deal you might accept.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have a compromise that will let you keep your command.”

  “What’s it going to cost me?”

  “They are willing to drop the ‘failing to maintain the integrity of you post’ charge, and reduce the ‘abandoning your post’ charge to AWOL. In exchange, you plead guilty and get busted to lieutenant colonel for six months, but keep your command.”

  “It sounds like they didn’t have much of a case. Why are we pleading guilty?”

  “Off the record?”

  “Sure.”

  “Your case is viewed as a mixture of success and failure all at the same time: successful foray against the enemy, failure to use common sense. I could probably get you off on both charges.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “To summarize your position… GEN Spears is the highest ranking member of the central command staff, and he likes you, which means no one can destroy you without changing his mind. BG Moore, your present district commander, is retiring in the next year. Your chief opposition comes from MG Whitacre, district commander of Ganymede, Io, Europa, and Callisto. If we don’t plead guilty to reduced charges, you will have to face court-martial on Earth. Wait time for the next shuttle, travel time to Earth, length of trial, your leave time, and then trip back will add up to your losing your command for over a year. By then MG Whitacre may be your new boss, and irritated as hell that he lost in his attempt to humble you.”

  “What’s his beef?”

  “Are we still off the record?”

  “Sure.”

  “In 1976, a young captain named Cowboy spent some time on leave at Miami Beach. That same young officer met a young lady, home from college on summer break. Do you remember her?”

  “Who could forget? Wendy was a gorgeous redhead with emerald-green eyes that pierced into your soul with a single glance, and a laugh that was infectious. I had a hard time leaving Miami that year. So what does that have to do with anything?”