Virtues of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  He stood. Everyone followed his lead.

  “Congratulations, Lieutenant Emmes.”

  She shook his outstretched hand firmly, but Breeze could see that she was still bothered by their exchange in the passageway. Good, she thought. That helped make up for suffering the indignity of watching this self-righteous psychopath get a medal. Behind her smile, Breeze prayed that the EF got back to Terra soon. This military was one fucked-up organization and she wanted out.

  31

  Jack never thought that he’d prefer zero-g.

  As he limped along the seemingly endless passageway of Normandy, however, struggling to keep pace with the XO, he thought back with longing to the freedom of Kristiansand’s weightlessness. He was trying to avoid the scary trooper-drugs as much as possible, but he made a note to pop some as soon as this briefing was over.

  Finally the XO slowed to pass through a large door. Other officers were approaching from various directions. Jack slipped through the door and had a good look around at the briefing room. It was even bigger than Kristiansand’s hangar, he reckoned, with rows and rows of seating, all facing a bulkhead with three big screens.

  This was his third visit to the giant invasion ship, but he was still impressed by something new each trip.

  “Clear a path, Subbie!” Someone pushed past him roughly. Jack stumbled at the impact, looking up in shock.

  A Fleet lieutenant glared back at him, but his expression softened as soon as he saw Jack’s face.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said. “Just keep clear of the door.”

  Jack dutifully stepped aside, wincing as he pressed a hand against the pain in his left shoulder. The push hadn’t been hard, but he just couldn’t take the hits like he used to. He walked over to the nearest chair, ignoring the growing number of eyes that were watching him. Suddenly feeling like a circus freak, he sat down quickly to turn his face away.

  More people entered, and Jack watched idly, wondering if there were any other pilots coming. He noticed Rapier’s CO, Kane, and listened absently as he exchanged greetings with the XO. Kane didn’t look happy. But then, the only other occasion Jack had met him was at the star lounge, in happier times. Everyone, he noticed, was looking very serious. Some would glance at him, sitting in the front row, but no one met his gaze.

  He sighed and looked down absently at his crooked fingers, resisting the urge again to reach up and touch his bumpy cheek.

  The noise level in the room suddenly dropped, and Jack noticed a pair of boots stop in front of him. He lifted his head and found himself staring into the eyes of a man in Corps green, probably in his forties. On his epaulettes there was a single star, though Jack didn’t recognize the rank. The man met his gaze without any sign of horror or embarrassment, and even seemed a bit curious.

  “You’ve seen some action, my friend.”

  “Yeah.” Jack wasn’t sure how to take that.

  “You’re a pilot. From one of the carriers?”

  “No, Kristiansand. I fly Hawks.”

  “Ahhh.” This seemed to trigger something. “It’s good to see you here. I’m Sasha Korolev.”

  This was the first friendly person Jack had met in days.

  “Jack Mallory. What do you do?”

  “I’m the acting brigade commander.”

  Jack pondered the words for a moment.

  Acting… Brigade…

  Oh!

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Am I in your seat?”

  “Yes, but don’t trouble yourself.”

  Nevertheless he struggled awkwardly to push himself up, wondering if he would ever stop being a dumbass.

  “Sorry, sir, I didn’t know.”

  A firm hand on his shoulder stopped him from rising. “Mr. Mallory, I insist. Keep your seat. I can see just fine from over there.”

  Murmurs rippled through the audience as Jack watched Colonel Korolev find a seat at the end of the row. He glanced back over his shoulder and caught sight of the XO shaking his head. Kane was smiling next to him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!”

  The sudden words startled Jack, almost as much as the sudden movement all around him. Everyone was sitting to attention. He stiffened in place as best he could.

  To his left, a man entered the briefing room and came striding toward him. This man, Jack noted immediately, had four gold bars on his epaulettes, and even he knew what rank that was.

  The captain whose name Jack reckoned he’d be learning really soon stopped in surprise in front of the empty seat next to him. He looked around briefly, and Colonel Korolev gave a thumbs-up from the end of the row.

  “Relax,” the captain said. He sat down, and everyone in the audience settled in their seats.

  “Who are you?” the captain asked him quietly.

  “Jack Mallory. I’m a pilot. From Kristiansand.” The captain merely nodded and turned his attention to the front of the room as a Fleet commander moved to stand before the audience.

  “Commodore, Brigade Colonel, ladies and gentlemen. It’s been a hundred hours since the Laikan ambush. EF 15 is in a difficult tactical situation.”

  The commander proceeded to give what Jack assumed was a tactical update, but most of the TLAs went over his head. He recognized the names and projections of the ships that had been lost—two invasion ships, a battleship, a carrier, a cruiser, a destroyer, a stealth ship and a supply ship. The EF was at sixty or seventy percent strength, depending on how you measured it, and was being probed several times a day by Centauri long-range craft.

  A full-scale attack was considered likely within the next twenty-four hours.

  He examined with interest the giant 3-D display that was projected to the side of the commander, figuring out pretty quickly that the surviving EF ships were moving as a group away from the sun. The display also showed several positions where Centauri ships were suspected, but not confirmed.

  There was some discussion between the captain—or commodore, by now—and various senior officers. There had been no direct attacks on the EF by the Centauris since the Laikan ambush, and except for the probes the enemy seemed to have all but disappeared. The goal was to keep the EF in deep space, away from the planetary gravity wells, where it would be easier to track enemy stealth ships. Far from the distortions of massive bodies and away from the crowded space lanes, ASW was clear and simple.

  “We now face a decision,” the commander concluded. “In the absence of orders from Terra, we need to determine how best to act in our nation’s interest. Commodore?”

  The commodore—Chandler—rose from his chair and took center stage.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we know that the Centauri attack has been against all Terran forces, not just here in Sirius. We know that the war has been brought to the doorstep of our home system, and even now the Astral Fleet is fighting to regain control of the jump gates in Terra. Our natural instinct is to run home and join the fight. We could move at full speed to the jump gate, punch through, and come out with guns blazing.”

  This sounded like a good plan to Jack.

  “But to do so,” Chandler continued, “would be to abandon our interests here in Sirius. There are still significant Centauri forces in this system, and if we head home we will in a single stroke lose all the positions we’ve established.

  “Without the threat of EF 15, what would stop the Centauris from attacking the jump gate here, and seizing control of this system? Without the threat of EF 15, what would stop them from openly joining their warlord puppets and snuffing out the tiny flames of freedom and democracy that have finally taken light, here in Sirius?

  “Terra has maintained a permanent military presence in this system for fifteen years, and all of us who are veterans of the Dog Watch know well the sacrifices we’ve made to protect the free colonists of Sirius from Centauri interference.”

  Jack had always wondered why Terra was here. Apparently it was to defend democracy.

  “And so,” Chandler said, his voice rising to fill the room, “we sta
y here. We fight our enemies here. We defend what we have sworn to defend. Even if we aren’t on the front line of the war, we will ensure that Terra’s flank is clear.”

  Chandler nodded to someone at the side of the stage. Jack looked over and found new interest in the briefing as Breeze rose from her seat and moved to a podium, stage right. She looked all business, but Jack was sure she smiled at him just after Chandler had retaken his seat.

  “Good morning,” she said as she brought up some new pictures on the screens. “Astral Intelligence’s top priority is to determine how the Centauri fleet managed to sneak so many warships past our sensors. If they can do it here, who’s to say they can’t do it in Terra?

  “To find answers, we’ve recommended resuming the line of investigation that led us to the terrorists in Free Lhasa. Our next move is to conduct a strike against a known Centauri base of operations on Cerberus, as indicated on the center screen.”

  Jack looked with interest at the picture, which showed a farming community with long buildings extending out in a radial pattern from a collection of smaller buildings surrounding a central square.

  “This site was investigated several weeks ago, but the strike team aborted the mission before they had concluded a proper investigation. Our information tells us that, despite our earlier incursion, this site is still being used as a major coordination center for Centauri agents. We’re going back to capture those agents. Although we expect there to be additional defenses due to the botched earlier strike, we anticipate that a platoon-sized force will be sufficient to accomplish the goal.

  “The strike force will consist of Levantine Regiment, Saracens Troop, Second Platoon. It will be augmented by the surviving members of Rapier’s strike team, who conducted the initial raid and thus have prior knowledge of the area.” She checked her notes. “Lieutenant Lahko will command the mission, with Lieutenant Emmes advising.”

  Breeze made even an intelligence brief hot. Jack loved having an excuse to stare at her while she talked.

  “Intelligence has high hopes that this strike will produce Centauri prisoners who can be properly interrogated. It is considered very likely that they will have the information we seek.”

  She concluded with a few logistical details, and Jack suddenly realized that she hadn’t mentioned his theory about a secret jump gate. If the EF wanted to find out how Centauri ships had snuck into Cerberus, surely that was something to investigate.

  Breeze sat down again, and the commander who had spoken at the beginning gave some kind of closing statement. Then the briefing ended.

  The room filled with voices as Jack pushed himself up out of his seat. He spotted Breeze chatting with some other officers, and headed in their direction.

  “Hey, Breeze,” he said as he moved into her conversation circle. “What about the second jump gate?”

  Surprise flashed across her face, as well as a darker shade that looked like irritation.

  “I’m sorry?” she said.

  Jack jerked a thumb back toward the display.

  “The jump gate theory, like we talked about. Shouldn’t we be sending a ship to investigate?”

  Breeze glanced at the officers she had been talking to, then smiled. But it wasn’t the smile he was used to seeing.

  “Jack, lots of people contribute their theories,” she said, an odd tone to her voice. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “It’s our job in Intelligence to determine which have the highest priority.”

  “But how else could they sneak—”

  She took a step closer, put a hand on his arm, and gave him a look that made him feel warm all over.

  “Jack, you’re right,” she said. “It’s a great theory, but we’re really short on assets right now, because of the attack. We have to focus on one thing at a time.” She looked past him, over his shoulder, then back into his eyes. “Honey, it’s great to see you, but I’m really busy. Can we talk another time?”

  The words he wanted to hear. Well, sort of.

  “Sure, I’m not flying back to Kristiansand for a few hours. How about the star lounge?”

  Her smile really wasn’t as nice as he remembered from before.

  “Maybe not this time.” She gave his arm another squeeze, and then slipped past him. He turned and saw Commodore Chandler complimenting her on a good briefing. She accepted his praise modestly, and made some joke that caused the commodore to laugh, along with the other men gathered around her.

  Looking down at his twisted hands, Jack felt a different sort of heat rise up his neck. He stepped clear of the crowd and headed for the door. Apparently this was no place for freaks, no matter how good their ideas. Every step hurt, and he wondered where he might hole up until it was time to go home.

  “Hey, Jack!”

  The female voice caught his attention. He turned and saw Katja Emmes striding up, her big trooper friend with her—the one from the star lounge. She wasn’t exactly smiling, but her expression seemed friendly.

  “Hi, ma’am,” he said. “Are you recovered from your little space walk?”

  “Yeah, thanks,” she replied. “How are you feeling?”

  He hesitated before answering, wondering if her question was just polite, or a genuine request for info. Considering what he knew of her, he decided on the latter.

  “Pretty shitty,” he admitted. “I look like a bag full of smashed assholes, and I feel worse than I look. I stole the acting brigade commander’s seat, and nobody’s listening to me about the secret jump gate theory.”

  Katja and her friend exchanged a glance.

  “Battle has hardened you, young Jack,” the big trooper said with great dramatic effect. “Last time we met, we were drinking and whoring and carrying on.”

  His name was Scott Lahko, Jack remembered.

  “With the drugs I’m on, drinking’s not smart and whoring’s probably impossible.”

  Both troopers laughed.

  “Well,” Lahko said, “with a face like that you can be my wingman at the bar anytime.”

  “Don’t feel bad about your theory,” Katja said. “I actually did some more research on it, and I think it’s worth investigating. I even discussed the evidence with my captain and Breeze.” She shrugged. “I guess busting up Cerberans is more important to them.”

  The fact that she had taken him seriously made him feel better. He looked past her to the small group still clustered around Breeze and the commodore. The XO and Kane were there, too.

  He focused again on the short woman in front of him.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I guess I’ll keep working on it on my own. You guys have to get ready for a mission.” He shifted his weight, and winced at the sharp pain in his hip. “And I need to take some drugs.”

  “Oh, hey!” Katja suddenly reached into one of her pockets and produced a data crystal. “Here’s the research I was talking about. I made a copy of Astrid’s flight log. I did some calculations on the other ship’s trajectory. It didn’t seem to lead to anything—but maybe you’ll see something I didn’t.”

  “Thanks.” He took the crystal with interest. “This should give me a starting point, if nothing else.”

  “Good luck,” she said. “Take care of yourself.” He thought she meant it.

  Katja walked off, with Lahko right behind her.

  Jack studied the tiny, featureless data storage device. His frustration faded away. What did Breeze know anyway—she was just Astral Intelligence. He pocketed the crystal and limped for the door.

  If there was a secret jump gate out there, he was going to find it.

  32

  It had been a long time since she’d worn terrestrial armor. As she followed Scott Lahko across the broad, clear deck at the center of the Corps hangar, Katja enjoyed the easy movement and peripheral vision that her armored spacesuit lacked.

  The armor was standard battle gear for the Astral Corps, designed for up to seven days of surface combat. A soft, black one-piece jumpsuit clung to her body to regulate temperature, all but invis
ible under the hard, rust-colored outer plates—specially color-prepared for each terrain—that linked together to shield against impact while maintaining full flexibility. The neck plates offered protection up to her ears, and would be capped by the helmet she currently carried in her left hand.

  Because the mission was only a raid, her gear was light—assault rifle and eight magazines, a spare power pack for the rifle, first aid kit, and minimal rations.

  As she walked the dozen small armor plates covering her legs brushed against each other, clicking softly. It was a very different sound from the whirr of her suit. It was the sound of a ground-pounder, the sound of a trooper. If she hadn’t had her war-face on, she would have smiled.

  The platoon was already formed up in standard order: three ranks of fifteen with the two sergeants in front and the five squad leaders behind. Chang and the other three members of her strike team were formed up in their own rank off to the right.

  “Second platoon, atten-tion!”

  In a single crisp movement, the fifty-six assembled troopers snapped to attention.

  Lahko stopped in front of the sergeant who had barked the order and they exchanged quiet words. Katja moved to the end of the ranks.

  Lahko stepped back and surveyed his platoon. “At ease.”

  Everyone relaxed.

  “Listen up, troopers. Today we are going in hot. This is not a simulation. Those people on the ground want to kill us. Our mission is clear—find the Centauri agents and bring them back alive. Everyone else, fuck ’em!” He glared over at Katja and her team. “Lieutenant Emmes and Rapier’s strike team are along as our guides. They’ve been here before, and you will listen to what they have to say.”

  She walked forward so that the platoon could see her clearly, but kept her distance from Lahko. Sometimes she hated the fact that she was so small, especially when a charismatic giant like Scott had just surrendered the stage.