Bowers was a no-nonsense Texan, old for his twenty-six years and by the book. He thought in clear, straight lines and had trouble with the idea of adaptation or flexibility. He was great at executing orders, getting things done. Less so at thinking problems through. Edley was the more thoughtful of the two. She could analyse and assess as well as act. They were of equal rank but Shaw thought of Edley as her number two. Bowers would follow an order like a dog would follow a thrown ball; excitedly and with tunnel vision concentration. Edley was much more useful as a sounding board. She could contribute to a discussion and suggest strategies and alternatives. She might notice an angle that Shaw had not, and because of that she was a great second to have around. Bowers’ contribution that afternoon had mainly been to point out where the disruptions to their current systems were. Shaw and Edley had provided the possible workarounds.
The first bang had sounded suddenly and mysteriously, instantly superimposing the thought ‘What was that?’ over all others. Maybe it was something falling over in the stores, or an accidentally discharged weapon. The subsequent bangs came rapidly and immediately spoke of something unusual. Shaw had instantly snapped her head upright at the first sound, like a dog with its ears pricked up, and saw the subtle flashes illuminate the room from the window for a split second before each of the following reports. “What is it?” said Bowers. Shaw and Edley were already headed to the window. Shaw gestured to Edley to keep low, and together they cautiously peered out.
“Stay down,” said Shaw.
Shaw’s window afforded them a view almost directly down the main tunnel entrance at the front of the garrison. Like the side entrance, the tunnel opened out into a small patch of uncultivated land, beyond which was a guarded entry point to the parade ground and the garrison building itself. Shaw could see that the guards had been overcome and were not at their positions. She guessed they had been sneak attacked with flash-bang grenades, bundled over and tied up before they even knew what happened. Shaw craned a little to try to get a view of the side entrance. She couldn’t see it clearly but guessed the same had happened there. She tried to think how many bangs she had heard. Five? Six? She couldn’t recall.
“Get everyone together. Seal the doors. No one fires without an explicit command from me,” said Shaw. “Open coms. Bowers, take two platoons to the third floor refectory. Cover the side tunnel. Do not open fire.”
“Yes, sir,” Bowers said smartly, and disappeared.
Shaw looked at Edley. “Take two more platoons to the entry hall. Await my command.”
“Yes, sir,” said Edley. “What about the admin offices?”
“Two guys per office, all along the front. No one is to shoot, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Edley said, then left.
Shaw peaked out of the window again. She could see the outline of a transport in the tunnel. She guessed there were more behind it. Foveaux’s troops had streamed down the tunnel, neutralized the guards and were now massing behind the perimeter wall. Foveaux was putting her plan into effect. But that was madness. Would anyone really show their opposite number their plan of attack, then put that plan into effect hours later? Was it a bluff? If so, which part? Shaw could hear muffled sounds from behind the wall; soft footfalls and whispered commands. Louder were the shouts in her own building.
‘You, yes you!’
‘Keep moving!’
‘Stay low.’
Distantly she heard Bowers and Edley issuing commands. Their voices carried authority. They did not sound panicked. Good. That placid concentration would be transferred to the soldiers they were commanding.
As Shaw watched the barrier at the main gate rose into the air. She first heard and then saw a small armoured transport rumble down the tunnel into the scrubland then continue through the gate. It moved slowly and came to a stop in the middle of the parade ground. The engine cut out and there was silence. Shaw looked on, waiting for the next play. She spoke to her comdev. “Major Edley, are you in position?”
“In position, Colonel.”
“Major Bowers, are you in position?”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“Hold you positions and await further orders.”
There was a crackle and a short whine of feedback from the lonely transport on the parade ground. “This is Commissioner Maya Foveaux of the Martian Security Service. I would like to speak with Colonel Katrina Shaw.”
Shaw stood. She thought about shouting from the window but quickly realised the moment called for something more dignified. She moved to the stairwell and rapidly descended to the ground floor lobby. The lobby was filled with silent troops. Some of them were not in uniform but all were bearing arms. Edley approached Shaw. “Are you going out there?”
“I am.”
“We’ll have you covered.”
“Thank you, Major Edley.”
Edley walked with Shaw and opened the door for her. Shaw stepped out and, turning back, said, “If they try anything cute let ‘em have it.”
“Yes, sir,” said Edley, closing the door behind her.
Shaw walked at a deliberate pace to the armoured transport. She glanced right to confirm what she already guessed about the second entrance. There were no guards. She stopped in front of the transport. “Here I am,” she said.
The door opened and Foveaux stepped down. She walked around to the front of the transport and held out her hand to Shaw. Shaw looked at the hand and then back up at Foveaux’s face. “Commissioner,” she said, “until yesterday we had only exchanged the occasional message. This is the third time in twenty-four hours you have approached me directly. Are you stalking me?”
Maya withdrew her hand and concealed her disappointment. “Just doing my job,” she said. “Could we go inside? I have something I need to show you.”
Shaw stared at her, not betraying any emotion. Without breaking her gaze she lifted her comdev to her face. “Major Edley, we’re coming back inside.”
“Yes, sir,”
Shaw gestured toward the garrison building and they set off towards it. Edley opened the door to let them in.
The heavy armoured door closed behind them with a solid clunk. They made their way through the crowded lobby. All heads followed them as they walked to the stairs.
“Would you please come with us, Major Edley?” said Shaw. Edley nodded and the three of them ascended the staircase to Shaw’s office.
From the third floor refectory Bowers was listening in to the coms. “Listen,” he said to his second in command, “you stay here and await my orders. I’m going to the colonel’s office. Watch the perimeter.”
Shaw took her place behind her desk. She gestured for Foveaux to sit.
“I prefer to stand,” said Foveaux.
“What is it?” said Shaw.
Foveaux pulled a sheaf of papers from inside her body armour. “It’s the articles of surrender.” She placed them on Shaw’s desk. “I’d like you to sign them and then address your troops explaining the surrender.”
Shaw eyed her carefully, looking for any signs of weakness. “If I don’t sign?”
“We can hold you under siege indefinitely. Don’t make this difficult. Sign the papers and you and your officers can see out the next two years at a comfortable Venkdt secure facility waiting for the next flight home. It’s the only reasonable option.”
“Whoever told you I was reasonable?” grunted Shaw.
Bowers slid his body along the wall, stopping at the half-open door to Shaw’s office. He craned his head over his left shoulder and looked sideways into the room. He could see Shaw, Edley and Foveaux. He’d missed the start of the conversation but managed to catch Shaw saying to Edley, “Hand me a pen, would you?” He drew his pistol and a bead of sweat ran down his temple.
Shaw had just taken the pen when Bowers turned into the room. Shaw looked up at him then down at the pistol in his hand. Foveaux saw the pistol too and instinctively put her hand on her own side arm.
“Stand easy, Major,” said Shaw. Bowers
glanced at Foveaux and, seeing her hand moving, swung his pistol toward her.
Edley moved toward Bowers and held her arm up across his chest, saying, “It’s okay, stand down.” In the moment it took Bowers to shake her off Foveaux’s gun was pointing at him, and his at her.
“Put the weapon down, Major,” said Shaw. Her voice carried a calm authority, but Bowers didn’t waver.
“What’s going on here?” he said.
“We’re in discussions with the commissioner. Put the gun down, Major, that is an order.”
“What’s the pen for? What’s she making you sign?” Bowers seemed panicked. Foveaux held her gun pointed precisely at Bowers’ head. She could see he was wearing body armour. She could see he was nervous. She was waiting for the slightest sign he was going to act. She felt an intense concentration.
“Put the weapon down,” said Shaw. Bowers just stared at her. He couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. The commissioner who was leading the attack on his garrison was now in the commanding officer’s office. What was happening? Was Shaw a traitor? Did the commissioner have her acting under duress? What was happening?
Shaw flicked a look at Edley. She was well placed to wrestle Bowers to the ground, but it would be a huge risk. Foveaux to her right was an unknown quantity. Might she think the whole scene had been orchestrated? Would she think it was a trap? Or would a woman with balls big enough to assault a USAN barracks in broad daylight have the stone-cold level headedness to evaluate the situation correctly and do the right thing?
“Major Bowers,” said Shaw, “Commissioner Foveaux has been asked by the new Martian president to take control of our garrison. Though she is prepared to do that by force she has offered us generous terms of surrender. Since we are in no position to resist, and to avoid needless violence, we will be taking her up on that offer. I am about to sign the instrument of surrender, so I’ll thank you to put your weapon away, and we’ll proceed.”
“We can’t surrender,” said Bowers, with true panic in his eyes. He moved his gun now between Foveaux and Shaw. “What are you talking about? This woman attacked us.”
“Put the gun down,” said Shaw. At that moment Edley launched herself at Bowers, crashing him into the wall. There was a deafening bang as he discharged his weapon. Foveaux felt something hit her head but she maintained her aim on Bowers, who was half slumped against the wall.
He cracked Edley in the side of the head with his elbow and was semi-righting himself when Foveaux shouted, “Drop the gun now!” Even as her words faded he was re-extending his arm in her direction. She fired, the deafening sound filling the room and the ‘smokeless’ charge giving its distinctive smell. Bowers fell back, blood trickling from a single hole just below his right eye.
Foveaux kept him covered with her gun as he hit the floor and stopped moving, a small pool of blood spreading behind his head.
Edley was already shouting into her comdev, “We need a medic up here, now!” and moving to Bowers body. She quickly checked for vital signs and though he was still alive she knew he would be dead very soon.
Shaw spoke to Foveaux. “You can put that gun away now, Commissioner.” Foveaux withdrew from her tunnel of concentration and was somehow back in the room. She lowered her gun and without even thinking about it raised her other hand to her head. She could feel a warm sticky liquid and pulling her hand away she could see it was blood.
“Let me look at that,” said Shaw. She pulled Foveaux’s head toward her and gave it a cursory examination. “Glancing blow,” she said. “You’re lucky. Couple of centimetres lower and you’d be going the same place as him. Are you okay?”
Foveaux blinked. “I’m fine. Where were we?”
“Well,” said Shaw, “we need to get this sorted out first. Where’s that medic?”
“Bowers is dead,” said Edley.
Outside a group of troops had gathered at the top of the stairs. They had their rifles drawn and they looked serious and intense. A medic squeezed between them and ran to the office, where she squatted next to Bowers and began to work on him.
“Back to the lobby,” said Shaw through the door. “It’s all over here. The situation is under control.”
Edley watched the medic work but she knew it was futile.
“Where’s that pen?” said Shaw.
“I think it’s still in your hand, Colonel,” said Edley.
“Oh yes. It is,” said Shaw. “Will you please come here and witness this for me?”
Edley moved to the desk and watched as Shaw signed the papers in two places as Foveaux pointed them out to her. Foveaux was clutching at her head with her other hand and blood was seeping between her fingers.
Shaw called to the medic, “When you’ve finished there I have an injured officer here.” She looked at Foveaux. “So you didn’t get your bloodless coup. Damn shame, you came pretty close.” She offered her hand to Foveaux who shook it gratefully.
“I’m sorry it happened this way,” she said.
“Me too,” said Shaw. “Are you going to be taking me back with you?”
“There’s no need. I’ll leave a small deployment here. You can gather your things, speak to your troops, organise the handover.”
“You trust me to do that?”
“I have your word.”
“Thank you,” said Shaw.
“I’ll come back tomorrow for an official handover.”
“Let me see you out,” said Shaw, and she went to guide Foveaux around the medic and the body of Bowers, which had been stripped to the waist and was now staring lifelessly at the ceiling.
“You forgot this,” Edley called after them. As Foveaux turned Edley handed her the articles of surrender. They were smeared with blood.
C H A P T E R 1 5
Old Friends
Bobby picked Christina up around seven. They were at the restaurant by eight. They had stopped by at one of the older domes - Bobby wanted to reminisce about the times, many years before, when Christina had brought him there. There was a children’s play area in the dome and Bobby, as a thirteen-year-old, was torn between rejecting it out of hand as a worldly teenager and showing off his physical prowess to his oh-so-sophisticated (as she seemed to him then) guardian.
Christina had started babysitting for the Karjalainens when she was around fifteen. Bobby was ten and Anthony was eight; she could just about handle them. She knew them vaguely from school. Being rich kids they had all gone to the exclusive Glenn Academy. While Venkdt and Karjalainen were business rivals their partners had met each other through the school and had quickly made friends. They and the kids were often in and out of each other’s houses. Christina was too old to play with the boys as peers but she had a strong maternal streak and loved to spend time looking after them, helping them play together.
When Bobby was sixteen he had asked Christina out on a date. Not quite sure of the dynamics of such an interlude she had cautiously agreed. In truth, she was quite a young twenty-one-year-old. She had spent a lot of her adolescence wrapped up in books, either schoolwork or her adored fantasy novels. She was mildly shy and stood off from the world a little.
Bobby, on the other hand, wanted to grow up fast. Nothing ever fazed him or gave him pause and, like most teenagers, he knew everything. Why wouldn’t you ask your babysitter on a date? She was kind of cute, and that reserved way she had immediately peaked one’s interest. What was going on in that hinterland behind the coy smile and gentle flick of the hair? There you are, sixteen, a man or as good as. Ask the girl out. Why not?
As the waiter brought their drinks Christina looked around the room. “Remember the first time you brought me here?”
“I do,” said Bobby. “It was the first date I ever had.”
“Oh!” said Christina, “so it was a date.”
“Of course. What did you think it was?”
“I just thought one of the kids I looked after was treating me as a thank you for the many times I had taken care of him, played with him, tucked h
im up in bed and read him stories.”
Bobby smiled. “Maybe that too.”
“And anyway, you never called afterwards,” Christina smiled back.
“Well, you were a little intimidating, I guess.”
“Intimidating! Me!”
“You know; sophisticated older woman.”
“Ha!” said Christina. “You were so funny, so full of yourself.”
Bobby nodded. “And I hope I haven’t changed.”
He had changed. The bright sparkle in his eyes had dimmed a little. The ‘Let’s do it here! Let’s do it now!’ enthusiasm had been dialled back a little, too. Christina wondered if it was the war, or if it was just that he was older now.
“What are you up to now?” said Christina.
“I’m just staying at my dad’s place.”
“No work?”
“No. I’ve got a combat pension and some money from the book. I guess I should figure out what I’m going to do next. No rush.”
“How is your dad?”
“He’s not great. I don’t think he’s got long left.”
“I’m sorry. Have you seen him?”
“Yes. I’ve been going to the hospital.”
“That’s great.”
“I don’t think he’s got the energy to argue anymore,” Bobby shrugged.
“But it’s great he’s talking to you again.”
“I guess. It’s why I came back, I suppose.”
“Family’s the most important thing, Bobby. It’s really good that you’ve made peace with your dad before . . .”
Bobby noticed her discomfort.
“I wouldn’t go as far as ‘making peace.’ He can stand to have me in the room with him. Progress, I suppose. How about your dad?”
“Well, as it happens, he’s the president of Mars. I always knew he’d make something of himself.”
Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) Page 23