A huge cheer erupted from the Cerberans massed behind the impassive APRs. The machines seemed to recognize the moment in their own way by lifting the barrels of their guns to point them skyward.
It took several minutes to figure out how to carry the worst of the wounded, and many more for the troopers to actually make their way down the rocky slope. Katja was careful to give the bodies of the fallen Cerberans a wide berth, all the while watching for any sudden movements from the enemy. The human fighters milled about and talked among themselves, but did not make any threatening gestures.
The APRs stood immobile.
By the time Katja reached the APR line, Sirius had risen over the eastern horizon and the entire landscape was awash in the brilliant pink light of a Cerberan morning. The man with the voice stood with a small group of men slightly apart from the others, watching her intently.
He stepped forward to greet her. “I am Major Xu.”
He was not much taller than Katja, and his dark, sinewy features made him otherwise unremarkable. Remembering her POW etiquette, Katja saluted him.
“Lieutenant Emmes,” she said. “Service number Charlie-eight-two-three-three-zero-eight-eight-six.”
He did not look impressed, but he did return her salute. “Your men will put down their weapons and helmets. They will remove all ammunition and tactical devices.”
“Yes,” she agreed. Then, “Some of my troopers require medical attention.”
“When the medics have finished tending our own soldiers, they will consider looking at yours.” Then he peered at her grimly. “I have already given you orders.”
She slowly lifted her rifle off her shoulder and with great exaggeration placed it on the ground between them. As her troopers began to follow her lead, she unclipped her remaining spare ammo, unstrapped her forearm console, and placed it all in her helmet, which she set on the ground.
She heard the quiet rush of fusion engines overhead, and saw a Cerberan dhow descending to land on the clear ground behind the APR line. Hardly a military vessel, it bore across its ovoid surface scars from decades of surface-to-orbit travel. A cargo door hissed open and several more Cerberans emerged.
Major Xu watched her, his expression impassive. She wondered if it bothered him that his enemies had been commanded by a woman. At least he’d have the satisfaction of having bested her. All around him, Cerberan soldiers were talking—most likely about her. More than a few laughs erupted.
Angry shouting suddenly silenced all merriment. Katja stepped forward to look, being careful not to appear aggressive. She saw three Cerberan rifles pointed at Alayan and Chang.
“Major,” she said, “let me sort this out.”
He nodded.
She moved out into the line of clear ground between her troopers and the enemy soldiers. Agitation was spreading through the ranks on both sides, she could see, and she stepped it up to a jog.
“What’s going on here?”
Rifles snapped over at her. They seemed to forget that she was still in full armor, and she stared them down with her best glare.
“Ma’am,” Chang said, “these guys seemed to think that Trooper Alayan was here for their pleasure. She disagreed.”
Alayan was still in a fighting stance, her large brown eyes burning with anger. Katja could see how her smooth, Bedouin features might catch the eye of the locals, especially now that she was a prisoner. The three soldiers with their rifles up looked furious, and one was sporting a fat, bloody lip. The rest just looked amused.
“Troopers,” she said, “take two steps back.”
They did so. Even the small amount of extra space seemed to ease the tension.
Rifles lowered.
She heard a crunching in the rocky surface, turned, and saw Major Xu walking up behind her.
“Major, I respectfully ask that you make certain your soldiers understand the correct treatment of prisoners,” she said. “We are unarmed now, and at your mercy.”
“Yes, you are,” he replied. “I will ensure that you are not harmed so long as you are here, but once you leave, I have nothing to say about it.” His English was surprisingly good for a native, but she wasn’t sure she caught his entire meaning.
“Once we leave. Are we going somewhere?”
He pointed at the orbital dhow sitting on the ground beyond the soldiers. “You are being taken to Free Lhasa, to answer for Terra’s crimes. I doubt very much you will have any assurances then.”
Four Cerberans walked up the line behind Xu. Two of them were dressed in filthy coveralls and two were in white lab coats. One of them was well dressed under the lab coat—sensible, good quality shirt and trousers—and he was limping noticeably.
“Gather your soldiers into an orderly grouping,” Major Xu said. “You will be handcuffed and loaded onto that ship.”
Katja glanced at Chang. “Three ranks. Help the wounded.”
He turned and gave quiet orders, and the troopers formed up in a grouping. She took the moment to study the four newcomers. Or tried to, except the one with the limp hobbled right up to her, his dark, twisted face only too familiar.
“Hello again, whore,” Thapa said.
37
Thapa’s hand lashed out, smacking Katja so hard she staggered backward.
“Finally you show your face,” he said. “I see now why you are so stupid—you are too young.”
Katja couldn’t hide her shock.
Thapa turned to Major Xu.
“Major, your victory here today is a victory for Free Lhasa. At last we have captured the criminals who have twice struck from the sky to murder and pillage my home.” He pointed a finger in Katja’s face. “This is the woman—the actual villain—who beat and killed my family.”
Xu looked sharply at her. “This is the actual soldier?”
“I know her too well. She is the one who gave me this limp.”
One of the Cerberans with the filthy coveralls stepped in front of her. “Let her be saved for the public. Keep your honorable reputation, Major.”
Rough hands grabbed her arms and twisted them back behind her. The sharp click accompanied the tight grip of manacles. She was forced to start walking just as the force of the blow began to clear from her head.
Thapa took pace beside her as she and the rest of the platoon were marched toward the waiting dhow.
“Your arrogance is your undoing, whore,” he said. “You should never have come back. Do you think we are a simple people? Do you think you can frighten us with your bombs from above? We are Free Lhasa, and we will never bend the knee again.”
They reached the ramp and slowly climbed up. The interior of the dhow was poorly lit and all the bulkheads in the main cargo area were blackened and sooty. The troopers were made to sit in a circle, facing inward at the wounded who were laid straight on the filthy deck.
Katja saw three soldiers come on board with them, weapons trained casually at her troopers. Thapa and his lab-coated companion remained at the cargo door opening. Thapa turned and began speaking to the Cerberan troops outside. He used the local dialect, and his words were lost on her, but she could guess their meaning. This new megalomania was quite a change from the sullen, frightened farmer she’d first met.
The other two Cerberans in the dhow—Katja speculated that they were the pilots—left the cargo hold and disappeared into the unseen forward compartment. Moments later the soft hum of the engines trembled through the decks.
She heard cheering from the Cerberan soldiers outside, and the sound made her jaw clench. Suddenly she regretted her decision to surrender. It may have saved the lives of her troopers, but the gall at having lost to these savages was almost too much.
Thapa and his companion stepped back from the opening as the cargo door began to close. One of the pilots reemerged from the forward compartment. He had donned a long, thick coat over his coveralls and was carrying several more on one arm.
The pilot handed the coats over to the three soldiers and to Thapa and his compani
on, explaining quite loudly in English that things were going to get cold as they gained altitude. He had the look of a middle-aged man by Terran standards, which on Cerberus probably meant he was younger than Katja. He had a simple, humble manner about him, and seemed quite in awe of the soldiers.
He treated Thapa like a VIP.
But when he looked over at Katja she saw, just for a second, a calculating glint in his eye. The way he assessed the cargo space with three quick glances reminded Katja of the way Commander Vici sized up tactical situations during exercises back home.
Thapa knelt down beside where she sat cross-legged, arms still bound behind her. “Are you ready to be humiliated, whore?”
She said nothing, but could feel her cheeks burning.
“Your soldiers will be dragged through the streets,” he continued, “but I’m going to make sure there’s a special fate reserved for you. The Whore of Terra, I think.” His callused fingers slid roughly through her matted hair. “As repulsive as I find you personally, I’m sure our brave soldiers will find you delicious.”
Movement from the far side of the circle caught her eye. Chang was struggling to his feet.
“Hey! Little dark guy. Remember me?”
She gave him a sharp look, willing him to sit down again. He ignored her and grinned at Thapa. It was the first time she’d ever seen such an expression on his face. It was disturbing.
“I’d say pick on someone your own size,” Chang said, “but she’s already bigger than you. So if you want to be the big man, why don’t you try me?”
Thapa didn’t move. “Oh, I remember you, monkey. You’ll get your share soon enough.”
Chang scoffed. “But not from you, obviously. You’re only good for threatening helpless women.” He looked around at the other Cerberans. “I’m the commander of these troopers, and your boss won’t even deal with me. He’s too busy flirting with my assistant.”
The blank faces on the soldiers told Katja that they didn’t speak English. Chang seemed to realize the same thing. He caught the eye of the pilot.
“Hey, flyboy. You speak English?”
The pilot, who up until now had been watching the proceedings with great interest, suddenly twitched. “Me?”
“Yeah, you,” Chang said. “Tell these soldiers how your boss, Thapa, doesn’t even have the courage to address me. He spends all his time flirting with that little girl.”
The pilot nodded, and spoke in the local dialect. Without understanding a word, Katja guessed that he hadn’t translated what Chang had said. An entire conversation played out between the soldiers, the pilot, and Thapa that included glances toward her and Alayan. There was a growing gleam in the soldiers’ eyes that she knew well enough from years of watching drunken troopers trying to score in nightclubs and at parties. A combination of fear, rage, and revulsion shivered up from her gut.
This wasn’t going to be nice.
Hands grabbed her shoulders and threw her forward into the center of the circle. Her face smacked against the filthy deck, the impact ringing in her ears. Stars flashed before her eyes as she was hauled up onto her knees.
Her vision cleared to reveal one soldier, his rifle now slung over his shoulder, stepping up in front of her. Beyond, a second soldier had his rifle pointed at Chang’s head, and the third had targeted one of the other Five Platoon troopers. She saw the Cerberan pilot moving in her peripheral, no doubt trying to get a good view of what was about to happen.
Her troopers shifted anxiously in their seated positions. Then she heard Thapa’s voice behind her.
“And so it begins, whore. Pleasure these soldiers, or your troopers will die.”
The soldier in front of her began to unbutton his trousers. The stench this close to him was almost overwhelming. Every inch of her body burned with rage.
“Fuck you.”
“Yes, yes, in good time.” Thapa’s mockery was crushing. “But it would take too long to get your armor off.”
The soldier exposed himself before her face. She averted her eyes in disgust, and noticed that the other soldiers were watching in anticipation.
The pilot, however, was watching the soldiers.
“Do it,” Thapa said, “or your troopers die.”
She looked at the pilot. He was fiddling with his fingers in anticipation, his eyes still darting between her and the soldiers. He stared at her for a second. And his fiddling fingers made a series of short, sharp gestures.
Three targets. I take. You lead.
She looked down, hiding her shock. No time for thought. Instinct. Breathing deeply, she raised her eyes to the wretch standing over her.
She bowed her head as if to start…
…and then head-butted her target with all her strength.
There was a second of commotion, then three shots rang out in rapid succession. She rolled back and up onto her feet. All three Cerberan soldiers were falling to the deck. The pilot had a small pistol out and had it trained on someone behind her. He shouted something in the local dialect. She turned swiftly, covering her blind spots, and saw both Thapa and the other lab-coat raising their hands in shock.
From the forward compartment, the second pilot burst in with weapon drawn. He assessed for a moment, then motioned Thapa and the other lab-coat to drop to their knees in one corner of the cargo bay.
Katja turned to look back at the first pilot. He had already retrieved keys from one of the dead soldiers and was uncuffing Chang.
The big sergeant nodded to him. “Hello, Ali.”
“Good to see you, Suleiman.”
The pilot, Ali, then approached Katja. “I’m so sorry it came to that, Lieutenant,” he said as he removed her manacles. “I had to find a way to get them distracted, and in that quick conversation this was the idea these filthy bastards came up with.”
She winced as she brought her arms forward and flexed them. The three Cerberan soldiers were dead by a single shot each. Whoever Ali was, he was no merchant pilot.
He seemed to read her thoughts.
“Warrant Ali al-Jamil, Astral Intelligence.” He held out a hand.
She shook it. “Lieutenant Katja Emmes, Levantine Regiment. How did you know we were here?”
He laughed. “Everybody in Free Lhasa knows you’re here. Your little battle has raised quite the cultural fury. But we also had orders. Lieutenant Brisebois sends her regards.”
That was unexpected.
There was probably something appropriate for her to say, but words escaped her. Instead, she nodded and looked away to see that Chang and another trooper were busy freeing the rest of the platoon.
Soon the three dead soldiers were being manhandled out of the way. A shiver went up through her body and she felt her lip tremble. She pressed her mouth shut and looked over to where Thapa and his companion were kneeling on the deck with their hands on their heads.
The rage returned. “What about them?”
Al-Jamil shrugged. “Thapa’s known to us, but I’d hardly call him a key intelligence target. He’s been the local commissar for years, serving his warlord, but beyond ratting out dissidents and housing soldiers he hasn’t been much of a player. The first time he attracted our attention was when the Centauris set up shop on his farm.”
“With all these speeches, he seems to think he’s pretty important.”
“Yeah, he’s always been a bully and a windbag. That strike against his farm a few weeks ago really flared things up though. When you get back to your ship, you might want to tell whoever beat up and shot those locals during the raid to go easy next time.”
Katja felt her stomach tighten. “Why? What difference did that make?”
“Thapa sort of snapped after that, and took his case to the warlord council. They used those attacks as an excuse to kidnap our people from that Hawk. Notice the ritual retribution? Two killed, two beaten to a pulp.”
Katja thought of Jack’s fresh young face smashed and disfigured. She felt sick.
“Although it was the rescue tha
t really turned things nasty,” al-Jamil added.
“How so?”
“It was considered an open act of aggression against Cerberus. They declared war on us that day, and Centauria apparently decided to honor their treaty with Cerberus.”
She didn’t follow. “How can Centauria have a treaty with a bunch of warlords?”
He shrugged. “It seems to make sense to them.”
Several troopers stood guard over the two prisoners, and the second pilot returned forward.
“We’re breaking off our route to Free Lhasa,” al-Jamil said, “and making a run for deep space. Hopefully an escort from your fleet will meet us before the Cerberans figure out that we’re gone.”
“So we’re taking them with us to Normandy?” Katja tried to stay angry as she stared at Thapa, but her churning stomach was sapping her will.
“I guess so. Dipu and I certainly can’t go back.” He scratched his stubbly chin. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn a uniform.”
“And you know Sergeant Chang?”
He nodded, but his expression went neutral. “We’ve worked together.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Lieutenant, like I said, Thapa and that other guy from his farm aren’t really of any intelligence value. Once we get to your ship they’ll be prisoners of war.” He gave her a cold, almost disinterested stare. “But if they don’t survive the trip…”
He handed her his pistol.
“Your call.”
He left her and disappeared into the forward compartment.
She stood in the center of the filthy, blackened cargo bay with the pistol in her hand. All around her, the wounded troopers who had been carried off the hillside lay in various states of consciousness. Three dead enemy soldiers lay piled against the aft bulkhead.
Below her lay hundreds of dead Cerberans both on that hillside and in the ruins of Free Lhasa. High above her, orbiting the distant moon of Laika, was a new, orbital graveyard for thousands of Terrans and Centauris. Countless more had no doubt died in other star systems as this war spread.
Virtues of War Page 29