by Eric Thomson
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Though she kept a straight face and an even voice, she felt deeply relieved by the change in duties. She’d begun to fear that participating in Captain Kozlev’s treatment of civilian detainees was pushing her into a dark place from which she could never escape.
“You’ll be supporting Tianjin, but you will still be part of my unit and report to me. Any detainees you think need my personal attention, you will ship them here, and the garrison commander will have no choice but to assist.”
“Understood, sir. When do I leave?”
“On the next train headed east which would be,” she glanced at her tablet, “in two hours. Get packed and hand your open files to Mikkels. The duty driver will take you to the station.”
Steiger stood up, came to attention, and saluted. Then, when she was about to leave, Kozlev said, “Don’t disappoint me with this task, Miko. I thought you had more stomach for what needs to be done. You know things aren’t going to get easier any time soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
As she left the headquarters ng to collect her belongings, Steiger couldn’t help thinking that she might well be more useful to the rebellion in Tianjin.
The most direct route from Iskellian to the highlands ran right through it, as Decker had proven with his wild escape. One day, the rebels would have to strike in the other direction, hopefully in full force, and she intended to provide all the help she could from inside the enemy’s walls.
When she climbed aboard the passenger pod a few hours later, it occurred to her that the rebellion had so far left the train line along the Yangtze River undamaged, unlike that which led from Iskellian south to Zeli. It had been hit hard by a raid two nights ago and would likely be out of commission for a while, cutting the capital off from quick access to its favorite resort and more importantly, the planet’s second-largest spaceport.
Come to think of it, none of the lines leading to the other eastern districts had been hit either. Miko Steiger smiled at her reflection in the window as the train began moving. Now there was a thought she didn’t intend to share with Rika Kozlev or anyone else.
**
Decker found Roste sitting on a rock not far from the back entrance to the fortress, staring at the carpet of stars stretching from horizon to horizon. He sat beside the man without bothering to ask for permission.
“Do your colleagues know you’re taking money to make sure this little disagreement on Garonne’s future turns into a bloody civil war?”
Though Zack’s tone was conversational, it was a stab in the dark designed to unnerve the other man.
Talyn would likely have his balls if she found out about this little talk, but if got Roste to shut up and let them discuss the decapitation option at length, it would be worthwhile.
The rebel turned to stare at Decker, unsure that he’d heard right.
“What are you on about, asshole?”
“I’ve got a theory, see,” Zack grinned at him. “There are folks out there, in the big, wide galaxy, going to a lot of expense, time and trouble to build up both sides of this family spat. At this rate, they’ll make sure the lot of you can tear the planet apart to the point where it’ll take three Marine divisions to sort out and an Army division or two to sit on Garonne for a generation. And I won’t even mention the number of starships that’ll be necessary to blockade the system.”
“That’s a big, stinky load of manure, Decker. How a clueless bugger like you ever became a pathfinder is beyond me.”
Roste looked up at the stars again.
“Hear me out,” the Marine continued. “This decapitation option, if it works, will end the war before it gets bloody enough for outside intervention. So I have to ask myself why a smart guy like you, with time in a soldier suit, won’t even listen to it. Know what I answered myself?”
Roste shrugged. “Do I look like I care?”
“Of course you do. You want to know how much I figured out and with whom I’ve shared my thoughts.”
He held up his hand and ticked off his fingers one by one.
“Going with the second item first, there’s my partner Hera, of course; I share everything with her, including a lot of good times. There’s Verrill and Corde because they hired me as a military advisor, so I advise, but I haven’t yet brought this up with any of the others, out of respect for Verrill.”
“And what did you tell them?”
A hint of fear had crept into Roste’s voice. Zack smiled, knowing now that his stab in the dark had come dangerously close to the mark.
“My theory that says there’s a possibility you and others on Garonne no doubt, might have been handsomely paid – or blackmailed – to make sure a small rebellion turns into a re-enactment of the last Migration War. Now, what do you think of that, eh?”
He gave Roste a comradely pat on the shoulder.
“I think you’re full of it, Decker.”
“Perhaps. I’ve been known to bark up the wrong tree pretty often, but my gut instinct is telling me you’re the right tree this time. The question you have to ask yourself is what you’re willing to risk as one of the guiding lights of the independence movement. Even if it turns out to be nothing more than a lot of hot air, your colleagues won’t ever look at you the same way again once I speculate out loud. Your big mouth this morning has made sure of that.”
He paused to let his words sink in.
“Now about the decapitation option, are you going to shut your yap and let the leadership think it over, or do I share my theory with everyone?”
“You’re a right bastard.”
“For your general fund of knowledge, you should be aware that my parents were married.” Decker stood and looked down at the man. “Take the night to think about it. I’d like to resume the discussion after breakfast tomorrow.”
Then, whistling an off-key tune, he returned to the ruins and the hunt for a cold beer. He had the feeling that he’d deserved one tonight. All he had to do until morning was make sure Hera didn’t find out about his gross breach of protocol, orders and nearly everything the intelligence world held dear.
By noon the next day, with Roste still the sole, albeit muted dissenter, the inner council authorized detailed operational planning, to be completed within fourteen days. If they liked what they saw, preparations would be allowed to proceed.
**
That evening, when they were alone in their quarters, Talyn gave her partner the evil eye.
“Out with it,” she ordered. “What did you do to Roste last night? He didn’t change his attitude just because it’s Tuesday. I checked the security recordings, and they show the two of you sitting by the back door having a fine old chat.”
Decker’s smile was a hair away from turning into a satisfied smirk.
“We talked about this and that. I shared a theory or two with him. All very companionable. He’s actually a reasonable guy once you get to know him.”
“Bullshit.”
He shrugged. “Believe what you will.”
“I could order you.”
“To do what? Remove my clothes and await your pleasure? To quote a commander of my acquaintance: aye, aye, sir.”
He pulled her against him and lowered his head to meet her lips.
THIRTY-FIVE
“What happened to us not taking an active part in the fighting?” Decker asked Talyn in a quiet voice. “You were pretty adamant that we remain hunter-gatherers. And anyway, it’s not accounted for in the plan.”
“You’ve read the same reports and seen the same videos as I have. Congratulations, I’ve finally come around to your point of view. I’m using my initiative as senior Commonwealth officer in the Garonne system on the premise that I can help bring about an outcome in the Fleet’s best interests and not coincidentally limit the long-term damage to the colony.”
“Besides,” she smiled mischievously, “maybe my little surprise will make a difference when the almighty plan fails to survive contact with the e
nemy.”
The two agents were alone in their quarters, packing what few belongings they owned before leaving, hopefully for good. The operations plan for the decapitation option had been ready in just over a week, and it had taken the inner council less than half a day to bless it, with some minor modifications.
In the four weeks since, they’d been forced to watch the situation across the colony deteriorate while the militia became more aggressive. Many moving parts had to be prepared, briefed, in some cases trained on new weapons and then pre-positioned.
Once the word was given, speed would be of the essence. Shock and awe, as Decker liked to remind everyone within earshot.
“Are you sure you can manage by yourself? I have to see this through with Verrill and the rest of them.”
Talyn smiled at her partner.
“Your concern for me would be touching if I actually had a soul, big boy. But I won’t be alone. Corde’s got experience, and she volunteered, with Verrill’s approval.”
“So I’m the last to know? Nice.”
He made a disgusted face.
“I figured you’d find reasons to object so I left it until now. And since futile arguments just before triggering an operation of this size don’t help anyone, all you have left to do is give me a kiss, pat me on the ass if you feel generous and then join the command group. A long hike is staring me in the eyes and the sooner Corde and I get going, the longer I’ll have to sort things out. I’ll see you when it’s over, one way or the other.”
“Take care of yourself, commander, sir. If something happens to you, my universe is going to be a lot less interesting.”
Talyn snorted.
“Maudlin’s not your style, Zack. Besides, Captain Ulrich is capable of reaching beyond the grave and making my eternity thoroughly miserable for the sin of letting you loose on an unsuspecting galaxy without adult supervision. That’s the one thing I really don’t want to face, so I’ll be extra careful.”
She kissed Decker with a passion that surprised both of them, then she stepped back and inspected him one last time.
“Remember, Marine Boy, there’s a big difference between ‘duck’ and ‘fuck’; try not to confuse those two when the plasma’s flying.”
Zack came to attention and raised his hand to his eyebrow with military precision.
“Aye, aye, sir; see you on the other side. I’ll be the one sitting on a throne of skulls waiting for you to serve me some cold Shrehari ale.”
His last sight of Hera Talyn was her retreating back and a finger raised high in the rigid digit salute.
**
“You’ve made sure that your people understand what they’re supposed to achieve, Captain?” Harend’s eyes remained on the map projection, trying to find any last minute flaws in the planned operation.
“Very plainly, sir,” Rika Kozlev replied. “I personally inspected them to make sure they could not be identified as militia members and Sergeant Major Bleyd personally checked them off on the captured mortars and guns. There’s no chance it will be traced back to us.”
“I’m not sure I share your confidence, Captain.” Harend turned to look at Kozlev and Major Alegre, both standing in the parade rest position, hands joined in the small of the back. “Your people have been racking up a lot of failures lately. If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think we’ve been infiltrated by independence supporters.”
“We almost certainly have,” she replied smoothly. “Every insurgency spreads its tentacles into the security forces, but I’m sure of the people involved in this operation. It’s fully compartmentalized. Not even Bleyd is aware of why we had him train the team on rebel weapons. By the time we’re done, the rebellion will look like a bunch of yahoos with a talent for carelessly causing collateral damage.”
“The propaganda feeds are ready?”
“Yes, sir,” Alegre replied. “I’ve had the news releases prepared, the combat camera crew is standing by, and my proposal for the governor’s statement is on your desk.”
“Very well.” Harend nodded. “You may launch the operation. By the time this is done, I hope a lot of colonists are going to rethink their support for an independence movement so inept it mortars the Holback children’s hospital instead of the militia garrison down the block. If that goes off as planned, then we can target the Tianjin train terminal, this time making it look intentional.”
“Have you told the governor yet?” Kozlev asked.
“He’ll find out about the ‘rebel’ attacks at the same time as everyone else, and I’m sure he’ll be the first to deplore civilian deaths in Holback. He may even shed a tear or two for the children.”
**
“Every column has reported ready,” Verrill said when Decker joined the command group at the foot of the ruined fortress. “Our lead elements are almost half-way to Tianjin. We’ll soon see if our friends in the transport commission have lined up everything we need.”
“Have we heard from Steiger?”
“Not directly, but she sent word via one of the sympathizers that everything is in place.”
“Let’s hope she and the diversion force deliver enough chaos to cover our loading the trains.”
“I’m confident,” Verrill replied, sounding anything but. Nervousness, now that the operation had been launched, was to be expected. Only a fool didn’t worry about the outcome of an all-in strategy.
“Tran’s company is already in position to strike once Miko gives the signal. Apparently the combat car you stole is still sitting where we left it.”
“Really?” Decker’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know the militia was so well armed they could afford to let one go.”
“Perhaps they believe we took it deep into the highlands and didn’t bother searching. In any case, Tran’s men checked, and it still runs fine.”
“Did they inspect for booby traps?”
“Yes, and they disabled the transponder. The ammo stocks aren’t great, but we didn’t plan on it still being there, so I consider that a bonus, just like Hera’s little addition to the overall scheme.”
“I’d hardly call that one little, but yeah. We’ll use it to escort the lead train. If nothing else, it might throw off any curious official long enough to get by. But first we need to get to the station without the Tianjin garrison noticing, or at the very least sounding the alarm in Iskellian.”
“Any last piece of advice?” Verrill asked before the command group stepped off and headed down a trail slowly turning blood red from the setting sun.
“If it moves, shoot it,” Decker replied. “If it screams in Shrehari, shoot it again.”
The joke drew appreciative chuckles from those who heard it, and Zack sensed a slight lightening of the mood. It almost made him feel like whistling an old fighting song, but he held back out of deference to the musical sensibilities of the others. He had never been able to carry a tune.
**
As she had for several weeks, Steiger volunteered to take an extra turn as shift sergeant in the garrison operations center that night, claiming the quiet pace helped her work through the interrogation analyses she owed Captain Kozlev.
Her devotion to duty surprised no one, nor did the garrison commander question her wide-ranging authority. Kozlev’s reputation had made sure of that.
Being pleasant and cheerful with the rank-and-file troopers did the rest. Some of them were decent folk who believed in colonial rule and opposed the rebellion on moral grounds. She’d be sorry to see them pay the price for wearing the dark green uniform.
Many, however, were in it for themselves, be it because of money, power or other venal inducements. She wouldn’t be sorry to see those go. Working the field interrogator job had exposed her to the nastier side of the militia, and she’d had to use her rank and influence to limit the suffering inflicted on colonists, whether innocent or active guerrilla. But, she consoled herself, it would only be for a few more hours.
Steiger looked up from her console at the duty troo
per, busily fighting off sleep with an immersive game he technically shouldn’t be playing but for her indulgence.
Of course, it meant he wouldn’t see any reports coming in from outlying patrols. They’d go straight to her, and the first of those might start flowing in any moment now.
**
Decker gently backed the combat car out of its hiding spot and set down on a flat piece of ground at the foot of the rapids. It now bore the symbol of the Garonne Independence Movement, a broken chain lying at the foot of a native silver fern. With any luck, colonists taking part in the armed uprising would recognize it as a sign that the combat car was manned by rebels and not use the roundel for an aiming point.
The heavy mortar battery, key to Operation Decapitation, was already loading at the freight terminal while Tran Kidder’s company had effectively taken control of Tianjin proper after sweeping up any militia patrols they found, with the help of armed rebel sympathizers.
So far, thanks to Steiger, neither the local commander nor HQ in Iskellian was aware that they’d lost the town. It only had to remain that way for another eight hours, perhaps even less.
If they hadn’t decapitated the Garonne colonial government by daybreak, the gamble would quickly turn into a protracted fight neither side could win.
Verrill climbed into the commander’s seat beside Zack while a squad of heavily armed soldiers, the rebel commander’s escort, filled the crew compartment.
“Nice of Steiger to assume the town commandant’s job,” Decker said grinning, his bared teeth white in the glow of the instrument panel. “It’ll be even nicer once Tran overruns the garrison and links up with her. If one word gets to Iskellian about us coming out of the woodwork, so to speak, the buggers will have plenty of time to prepare.”