Artillery rained down on Second Platoon again, wrenching Katja’s mind back to her task. The spotters were still active, and were protecting their own position now. She needed to take them out. There was so much heat in the street that infrared wasn’t effective, so she tried quantum-flux against the line of houses across from her.
Nothing.
In fact, from one house in particular there was absolutely nothing. No reading at all. She gasped slightly. Quantum jamming, just like at Thapa’s farm. It was the second house from the end, almost directly across the street from her.
She activated her telescopic night-vision and scanned the windows. Sure enough, she caught a glimmer of movement. She punched in the coordinates of the house and sent the order to Jutland, even as another salvo of Centauri artillery smashed down on the crossroad.
She watched the quantum-shielded house, feeling awfully exposed even though her display showed her safely outside the blast zone. Just as she spotted the incoming orange flashes from the sky, she wondered if the safety range was affected by the angle of fire.
A blinding flash overwhelmed her vision. She instinctively threw up her arms as a sledgehammer of solid air hit her like a concrete wall. She was dimly aware of floating, and of crashing down onto the ground.
The blinding lights didn’t fade, and as she took stock of the warning signals her body was screaming at her she struggled to keep her eyes open. She heard voices, and before she could pull herself up she felt a hand on her arm.
“Easy, Lieutenant.”
“Status!” she barked.
“You’re fine—just take it easy.”
She forced her eyes open, despite the white haze, and dimly focused on the trooper looming before her. She didn’t recognize him—perhaps he was one of the medics. He looked back with earnest brown eyes, and it took a moment for Katja to realize, over the continuous thunder of the battle, that she shouldn’t be able to see his eyes at all.
“Goddammit, trooper! Put your fucking helmet on!”
His expression didn’t flinch, but there was a real edge of fear in his voice.
“Lieutenant, listen to me,” he said. “The battle’s over. You’re safe.”
She struggled to rise, but every muscle protested. “No one’s safe! Get your head in the game.”
He pressed her firmly back down. She struggled against him, trying to look at her forearm display. It was blank.
Things weren’t good.
“Help me up, trooper,” she insisted. “We have to get tactical comms!” He kept looking at her, but addressed someone else. “I’ve got a battle-head here! Sedation, now.”
The lights were still blinding, but Katja sensed sudden, rapid movement to her left. It was a trap. She slammed her forearm into the man above her, feeling his lungs collapse with the force of her blow. She pushed herself up, but dizziness overcame her and she lost her footing. Two large Centauri soldiers charged down on her. She swung her fists randomly, but hit nothing but air. Suddenly she was pinned, the combined weight of the Centauris bleeding away her strength.
A sharp pain cut into her thigh.
Moments later she felt reality slip away.
* * *
When she woke, it was nighttime and she was alone. She lay motionless for a long moment, listening. Shuffling movement indicated people nearby, or possibly the wind through some prefab. She forced herself to relax, breathe deeply, and assess her wounds.
Nothing burned, and she wiggled her fingers and toes to confirm that she was still in one piece. Looking side to side, she saw nothing but shadows and blurry lights.
She tried to pull herself up, but her arms wouldn’t respond. She tried again, and realized that her wrists were restrained by some kind of gel ring. Just as she began to try and squeeze her hands through the orange, donut-sized rings, the curtain around her—that’s what it was, she suddenly realized—swished aside to admit a woman in medical fatigues.
“Lieutenant Emmes,” she said with a slightly apprehensive smile, “how are you feeling?”
“Fine,” Katja responded. “Caged.”
The medic quickly examined a status board at the foot of her bed—she was on a bed—and nodded. “I’m Master Rating Shin. You’re aboard the invasion ship Normandy, and it’s four days since the battle on Abeona.” She looked at Katja strangely. “Do you believe me?”
The question puzzled Katja. “Yes. Why?”
“The last time you were awake, you thought you were still in the battle, and you took a good swipe at one of the other medics.”
“Oh.”
Shin shrugged. “It happens—common side effect of your combat cocktail. Makes you a good fighter when things go bad, but makes it difficult for you to adjust your reality.”
“Is he okay?”
“Wind knocked out of him—he’s fine now.” Shin touched one of the restraining rings. “Your chemistry is back to normal, so I’m going to trust you enough to take these off. But be aware that Normandy doesn’t trust you right now, and if you make any sudden moves, you’ll be subdued. Nothing personal—it’s standard procedure for troopers after battle.”
Katja nodded slightly. “I understand.” She’d heard of troopers going crazy days after returning from the surface as the combat cocktail worked its way through their system.
Shin removed the rings with practiced ease and stepped back, never taking her eyes off Katja.
“Can I get you anything, Lieutenant?”
“A report from the battle. I was commanding the Saracens’ Fifth Platoon.”
Shin laughed.
“Is there a problem, Master Rating?”
She shook her head. “Troopers usually ask for food. Officers ask for reports. You guys crack me up every time.”
Normally that kind of insubordination would infuriate her, but she just couldn’t muster the energy. In fact, she could feel the tension draining away as she truly began to understand where she was. She was safe. She was a veteran of Terra’s invasion of Centauria’s homeworld. She’d fucking done it and she was still alive.
She had nothing left to prove.
“Indulge me,” Katja said. “If any of my troopers are still alive, please ask the most senior one to report to me. And send word to Commander Vici that I’m awake.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Shin turned to go. A sudden impulse caused Katja to call after her.
“And Master Rating, please tell Lieutenant Commander Kane of Rapier that I’m alive, and would appreciate a visit.”
52
Breeze had plucked her first gray hair that morning. Hardly surprising, considering she’d barely slept for days, and had spent most of that time fearing for her life. But it only worsened her mood as she pushed her way along the wide passageway.
She was getting very used to this particular route—from the Intelligence cell to the commodore’s cabin—but lately she didn’t get the feeling that her hard work was paying off. It was tough to cast herself as the command staff’s up-and-coming junior officer when that role was already filled.
Ever since her disastrous attempt to have Thomas talk Chandler out of going into battle, it seemed as if young Mr. Kane could do no wrong in the eyes of his mentor. She still lost sleep over how badly she’d misread that situation.
Nevertheless, she reminded herself as she buzzed at Chandler’s door, the past was the past. All she could do now was watch for a new opportunity. But as she saw Chandler’s expression, eyes fixed on a slow-motion recording, she knew today wouldn’t be the day.
The commodore was still brooding.
“Good morning, sir,” she said with a tempered mix of gravity and cheer. “I have the latest intelligence report on the Centauri reaction to the battle.”
He glanced at her briefly before turning his eyes back to the 3-D display. He motioned her closer. She studied it, but couldn’t make out which point in the combat over Abeona he was studying. The sphere was a mess of red and blue symbols, yet it seemed to mean something to him
.
“Shall I just leave it, sir?” she said after what seemed an eternity.
His eyes narrowed, and at that moment one of the blue symbols flashed and disappeared. He froze the recording and looked over at her.
“Give me your summary, Breeze.”
For a moment she thought he meant a summary of the readout, then noticed he was looking at her report.
“Terror and panic on every world, sir,” she replied. “Local militias are scrambling to build and man surface defenses. Protest groups are marching in the streets. Pundits are questioning the wisdom of sending so many of Centauria’s ships out-system, and leaving the planets so exposed. The government is stating again that the attack was repelled, and that the situation is under control, but parliament is a zoo. I expect either the government to fall, or martial law to be declared, probably within the next seventy-two hours. In short, sir, mission accomplished.”
Breeze knew better than to smile, but she saw the effect of her words on Chandler. Perhaps there was an opportunity here after all.
His frown morphed into a more thoughtful expression as he nodded. He looked quickly at her report before casting it aside and returning his attention to the frozen recording.
“Thanks, Breeze. It’s good to hear that maybe all this was worth it, after all.”
The two days of warfare over Abeona had exhausted everyone. When she managed to sleep now, Breeze had nightmares of those first terrifying hours when Normandy had been under constant attack. Once the orbital platforms had been destroyed and the EF focused its full power against the surface batteries, the pressure had eased, but Abeona had seemed to have an unlimited supply of missiles and robotic sentries to hurl at them in waves.
Throughout the battle, Chandler had ably filled the role of the confident commander, speaking only when required and wasting no words. Even when losses began to climb, he’d maintained his stern, calm façade.
Then, in the forty-second hour of the invasion, with all three regiments embroiled in vicious battles among the new ruins of Abeona’s three largest cities, the Centauris had mounted one final, devastating counteroffensive. The attack had destroyed three ships, including the invasion ship Quebec.
Normandy herself had been badly damaged, and there had been a few moments when Breeze had begun looking for the nearest escape pod.
Apparently unfazed by the destruction around him, Chandler had ordered a full withdrawal. Within an hour the regiments had been retrieved and the EF had fled into deep space. As they went, they smashed any last tracking systems on Abeona. As soon as Normandy had secured from battle stations, he’d retired to his cabin, and she’d hardly seen him since.
He’d met with the operations officer, she knew, and Colonel Korolev. But otherwise no one had been able to get near to him. And from the bloodshot look in his eyes, she guessed that he’d spent the last twenty-four hours in front of the 3-D display.
“Sir,” she said, “our mission was to distract Centauria from the war in Terra. We’ve done that, without a doubt.” She looked at the display. “Such great success unfortunately comes with great cost.”
He suddenly turned his full, earnest gaze on her.
“But did it have to, Breeze?”
Her mind raced. Why was he asking her? This entire insane plan had been his idea! She stared at him, at his dark, weary features. What was that pain behind his eyes? Was it anger? At whom? She took a stab at it.
“I don’t know, sir, but I’m saddened at how badly the Centauris were able to hit us.”
She saw a flicker of emotion deep in his eyes. He glanced back at the frozen image.
“We should have done better at surviving that battle, shouldn’t we?” He was unhappy at the number of casualties—that was obvious. And he was looking for someone to blame. Obviously not her, so whom?
“It’s so hard to say, sir. An intelligence report before the battle is one thing, but no one can predict how people will react in the heat of the moment.”
Come on, come on, she thought. Who do you think messed it up?
He frowned again, and didn’t bite. “I’m sure everyone did the best they could.”
She nodded with an outward show of sympathy, quickly considering her next angle.
“I agree, sir. But with all the replacements we’ve had these past weeks, sometimes people find themselves in a position beyond their capabilities.” Then she hesitated, waiting for his reaction. She could tell that she’d hit a nerve.
He looked at the display again.
“Breeze, you’re not a line officer. But let me ask your opinion. In the early stages of the battle, when we were still landing the regiments, what do you think was the single biggest threat to the Expeditionary Force?”
Her heart sank. How could she possibly guess that? She looked at the 3-D display with an air of studiousness, frantically trying to interpret the symbols. She knew that red meant bad, and she noticed a single red symbol that was larger than all the others. She pointed at it.
“At this point in the battle, I think the greatest threat was here.” She had no idea what she’d pointed out, but Chandler nodded vigorously.
“Exactly!” he gritted. “The damn orbital platforms. They were chewing us apart! Look at this.” He rewound the recording and played the moment where the large blue symbol flashed and disappeared. “When we lost the carrier, we very nearly lost this entire campaign! Why weren’t those orbital platforms taken out sooner?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“But you’re a support officer. I don’t expect you to know! Thomas is a damn line officer!”
Thomas? Chandler was angry at Thomas? Breeze fought to keep her expression neutral.
“Sir, I’m sure Mr. Kane was doing his best. He’s doing a job he isn’t qualified for.” Her words could be interpreted as a defense, but she knew Chandler didn’t take them that way.
“Yeah, that’s pretty clear.” Chandler sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this to you.”
“None of us have slept in days, sir.” She considered reaching out to stroke his arm, then thought better of it. Chandler was in one of his righteous moods, and wouldn’t take kindly to flattery. “I won’t remember a thing.”
He pressed his palms to his eyes, then slowly rubbed down his unshaven cheeks.
“Erikson nearly tore Thomas’s head off, but I kept the peace and kept Thomas in his role for the entire battle.” He shook his head. “Makes me wonder if another AVW controller would have seen that counterattack coming sooner. Maybe we’d still have Quebec, Provider, and Miami.”
Breeze had done her best to keep tabs on the fortunes of all the command staff replacements who, like her, had been thrown into the spotlight after the Battle of Laika. She’d heard all along that Thomas was quite good in his role as AVW controller, as evidenced by his performance at Cerberus. Erikson was a hardass who Breeze could tell didn’t like the special treatment Thomas enjoyed under Chandler. Maybe he was exaggerating Thomas’s errors to put him down a peg.
Well, Breeze was happy to join in.
“Maybe, sir. At this point we’ll never know. I guess you’ve been reviewing the AVW decisions made during the battle?” Post-analysis of a combat situation was the surest way to raise questions about someone’s competence. With the luxury of time, recordings, and lack of getting shot at, anyone could pick apart the frantic decisions made under fire.
The fact that Chandler was exhausted and stressed would only further cloud his judgment.
“I’ve done plenty of analysis,” he said, indicating the display. “And I’m not impressed at what I see.” His expression was actually more sad than angry. It was disappointment in a protégé, she realized. This was a much more emotionally charged issue for Chandler. He was taking it personally.
“Well, I can’t really comment there, sir, but I’m sure Mr. Kane did his best. I’d hate for him to be judged unfairly.” She made a show of thinking hard, displaying great concern, and then p
roduced an idea. “Sir, perhaps you’d like to review my reports from Rapier’s missions during our time in Sirius. If you’re having concerns, perhaps those reports will put things in balance.”
Hope flashed in his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, thanks Breeze. I think I’d like to read those.”
She smiled, trying hard to contain her delight. Her intelligence reports were separate from Thomas’s own mission reports, and in hers she had laid out clearly where she thought Thomas had failed to act appropriately.
Chandler had no idea what he was asking for. From his expression she could see that he really wanted to have his faith restored, and he hoped that her reports would do that. Now that his expectations were suitably raised, her critical review would be all the more damning.
“I’ll forward them to you right away, sir—I can see that this is troubling you. I suggest you read them, put your mind to rest, and then try and get some sleep.”
He nodded again, and managed a half-smile. “Thanks, Breeze. I appreciate your looking after me.”
She donned her most earnest expression. “Sir, the entire EF needs you on your game. This is clearly a distraction, and I want to help you resolve it.”
She cringed inwardly at her own blatant sucking up, but Chandler was too tired to notice, and took her words at face value. As she departed his cabin to dig up her Rapier reports, she complimented herself on finding an opportunity after all.
Perhaps today wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.
53
The door opened soon after Thomas’s knock, and he pushed himself through into the commodore’s cabin. It looked much as before, with the government-issue furniture and the blackout curtain over the broad window.
Chandler floated in the middle of the cabin, looking up from a report he held in his hand.
The mood among the command team had been strained in the days since the Battle of Abeona, although Thomas couldn’t put his finger on why. All he knew was that Commander Erikson had turned into a bastard, and the other controllers kept to themselves.
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