Indomitable (31 page)

“Sir, if I may.” Colonel Halvorsen raised a hand, palm out. “I'm partially to blame for—”

The commandant cut him off without saying a word and then turned his gaze back to Promise. “Lieutenant, I suppose I'm to blame as much as anyone. The Corps's manpower needs are stretched thinly as it is. We're pushing our best and brightest too fast and I'm as much to blame for
that
as anyone.” The commandant sighed like the weight of the world lay upon his shoulders. “Lieutenant, I'll not see your career go down in flames simply because your superiors entrusted you with too much, too soon.

“That's why I'm placing you and Victor Company under the command of Captain Sasha Yates. Captain Yates is an outstanding officer and in need of a company and Victor Company needs a seasoned CO.”

I'm sorry?
Promise's jaw dropped. She couldn't help looking at McMaster or seeing the vindication on the special agent's face. Suh met her gaze directly. The sympathy on the commandant's face only made the situation worse. She didn't want his sympathy, didn't need his sympathy. All she felt was raw anger that couldn't be assuaged. Not until she had the chance to take it out on something … or someone.

“You'll still retain your rank in Victor Company as a first lieutenant but you'll now be the company's second-in-command. That's really how it should have been all along, particularly for someone so young in grade. Because of our manpower shortages, we've far too many lieutenants serving in captains' billets. Thankfully, Captain Yates just became available. You'll be her XO.”

I'm second … because you don't believe I could do the job in the first place.

“I can only imagine what you must be thinking right now, and what you must think of me. I know that in time you'll—”

Disbelief washed over her. Anger followed like an aftershock. Her career had just been nuked and she was standing at ground zero. Her eyes wouldn't focus and though Raghavan was still speaking she wasn't comprehending his words. Her body swayed and her hand found the edge of the conference table, enough to steady her. She knew she was going to say or do something that would end her career. Here and now. She imagined slamming Agent McMaster into the wall, which seemed like a good place to start. She'd break a bone or two while she was at it. In her mind's ear she heard the sickening crunch of calcium and marrow colliding with the bulkhead behind the special agent. She drew great satisfaction as she pictured the agent's eyes rolling up into her head before she slumped to the deck.

Promise had not in her wildest dreams considered the possibility that Victor Company would be taken away from her. A verbal reprimand? Certainly. A formal letter of reprimand in her jacket? Maybe. Who was she fooling?
Probably.
Stripping her of command? No CO would want her after this. The commandant was as good as blackballing her.

She hadn't wanted to be an officer in the first place. She'd only accepted the field commission on Montana because the circumstances had been so dire. Had it really been just a year ago? The captain had died in combat. Because of his injuries, the XO, Lieutenant Spears, had needed regen therapy to grow a new leg. Promise had given Spears every conceivable reason why she wasn't officer material. Why he shouldn't offer her the field promotion. And there were Gunnery Sergeant Ramuel and the other noncoms in the company with more years of experience. One of them could have stepped into the command gap. To her surprise Ramuel and Spears had endorsed her promotion to the hilt. “You're my choice, Promise.” The certitude in Spears's voice had almost made her believe it was true. “Officer material.” And then Victor Company became
her
company and she was V Company's CO, and the powers that be had let her keep it after the Battle of Montana. Sent her to Officer Candidate School, and fast-tracked her promotion to first lieutenant.

Through it all she'd given nothing but her best to the Corps and her unit. She defended her birth world when it was the last place she wanted to be. She'd taken her people into a war-torn hell to repulse an invasion of Lusitanian Marines. Montana should have been a no-win situation. She'd risen to the occasion, against overwhelming odds, when it would have been easy to just back down. Surrender. No one really knew how close she'd come to giving up but her. It still brought her shame to think about it. She knew some of the brass didn't agree with her decisions. She'd thrown people away, they'd said. Surrendering wasn't her style. Wasn't her Marine Corps. Wasn't worthy of the sterling white beret she wore.

And this, this …
This is grossly unfair. I have, at every turn, done nothing but my duty, I've sent women and men to die when I had no other choice, I've found a way when no one thought it possible. Now you throw it all in my face?

“Lieutenant Paen, are you all right?” The voice was distant, distorted by her anger. Her fists balled at her sides, ready to strike out at McMaster. Her eyes shifted to the special agent and she pictured how it would go down. McMaster's life. Her career. She was rushing toward a choice she would not recover from, and she no longer cared.

The air around her stirred and a hint of saffron filled her nose and lungs. A familiar voice waded into her thoughts, broke her concentration the way a boulder breaks the flow of a stream. Her eyes grew heavy and closed against her will. She could no longer lash out with rage, because the boulder was in the way. She had to adjust course and steer around it, only she couldn't because the boulder kept moving and blocking her path. And then it wasn't a boulder anymore but a lithe tree clothed in soft green. The tree's limbs reached out to her and took her hands. She felt rough bark and bristles stroke her skin. Then the branches weren't so rough anymore and the tree changed again, now a woman. She knew that face as if it were her own.

“I said I'd never leave or forsake you, munchkin. I know you and you don't want to do this.”

Striking back is all I have left, Momma. It's all I know. It's what I do best.

“No, it's not,” said her mother. Sandra Paen was standing in the room now with the commandant and the assistant director and Khaine and Halvorsen and her. She and her mother might as well have been alone. “There's always another way. Sometimes you have to strike back and sometimes you have to turn your cheek and take the blow.”

Mom … this uniform … my company … they are all I have left.

“No, dear. You have your name, and you have the confidence of your Marines, and you have my love. I am proud of you because of whose you are. Mine. Your Montanan Marines are proud of you because of whose you are. Theirs. No one can take that from you. Not Cameron Suh. Not McMaster. Not even the commandant.”

Fear, betrayal, retribution—they'd all flooded Promise's soul in near-toxic levels. But their poison wasn't strong enough anymore. Something else had taken root and was growing deep inside of her. Promise felt it sprout and spread throughout her body. Where it spread, the poison retreated. She fought the urge to lean further on the table for support, because she wouldn't give McMaster a gram of satisfaction. She clenched her fists tighter still, behind her back where no one could see them. Her vision cleared and where her mother and the stream had been only a moment before now lay a conference table of concerned faces. The gunny was on his feet, coming toward her. She held up her hand and nodded, and once again obeyed orders that tore her world asunder.

“Better,” said Sandra Paen, now just a whisper in her mind. “You'll get through this. Better answer the commandant.”

“Lieutenant
Paen?
”

Thank you, Momma.

“No need. Now go do what you do best.” The voice faded away but it left behind the assurance that Promise was not alone. She never had been and she never would be.

“I understand, sir,” Promise said like an emotionless automaton. She came to attention and met the commandant's eyes directly as her own pooled with tears. “Permission to be dismissed, sir.” The emotion came anyway and Promise looked astern as her vision clouded. A solitary drop slipped out.

“Permission granted.”

Promise turned and walked out of the room without another word. Once outside, she quickened her pace to the lift. She heard the gunny call out from behind her. Later, she'd try and fail to remember taking the lift down to the ground floor, passing through the inner and outer checkpoints. She'd vaguely recall saluting a colonel and a two-star and returning the courtesy from juniors and noncoms as she marched down the steps of the outer court. At the bottom of the steps she broke into a run.

 

Thirty-seven

MAY 20
TH
, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 0812 HOURS

REPUBLIC OF ALIGNED WORLDS PLANETARY CAPITAL—HOLD

THE SQUARE, LEVEL 47, REPUBLICAN CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE AGENCY

Lieutenant Colonel Price Halvorsen
stood up and straightened his jacket, brushed something from his sleeve, and turned to leave the room. Demoting Lieutenant Paen like that had surprised him and it wasn't to his liking, not one bit. He didn't care for sudden changes in his command structure, particularly with little advance warning.

I'd only expected the commandant to give her an official reprimand, not take the company from her.

Not that it hadn't happened before to other battalion commanders. And with the RCIA in the mix, well …
At least I didn't lose Paen altogether.
His sudden affinity for Paen nearly threw him off-balance.

Halvorsen was almost to the door when he stopped. Agent McMaster acted like she might say something as she approached the door from the other side of the room. Then the moment slipped by and she was gone.

He couldn't help agreeing with the commandant's assessment of Paen's headstrongness. She had that in spades. Charging hell and high water always came with a price and Paen hadn't yet learned to count the cost. Not fully. But she'd deserved better than she'd received and she was still one of his officers, and he always fought for his own. The more Halvorsen thought the more his feet refused to walk out the door.

The colonel turned to face the commandant, who was deep in conversation with Suh. “Sir, may I have a word?”

Commandant Raghavan turned toward Suh with a that-figures look on his face.

“The room is yours for as long as you need it. We can finish up later.” Suh gave a slight bow to Halvorsen and the gunny, and then a deeper one to the commandant before walking around the conference table and out of the room.

“Sirs, I'll leave you to it then,” said Gunnery Sergeant Khaine before he too turned around to leave.

“No, Gunny, please stay,” said Halvorsen. To Raghavan, “Permission to speak freely, sir?” His words were respectful but firm and he wanted a witness just in case.

Raghavan motioned to the chairs. “Why not.” Raghavan opened his collar and massaged his eyes. “Wait one.” He pulled a small device from his jacket pocket and set it on the table in front of them. “
Now,
Colonel, you may say whatever is on your mind.”

Halvorsen saw that the gunny was as surprised as he. The commandant let a healthy dose of mock surprise consume his face before he gave a rueful laugh.

“Come, now, gentlemen. Consider where we are. I don't want the spooks overhearing our conversation any more than you. Believe me. Assistant Director Suh would listen in if I let him.” There was no humor in his smile now. Suggesting that the assistant director of the RCIA would record an off-record conversation between the commandant of the RAW-MC and his subordinates was treading in dangerous waters. Swimming with the sharks, as they say. Halvorsen was dubious, to say the least, even in the RCIA's offices. Would Suh dare and break any number of laws in the process?

As if he'd read Halvorsen's mind, the commandant nodded yes. “Before you say anything, I want two things clear. This entire discussion is off-the-record. Understood? If it ever leaks and I find out one of you is to blame…”

Halvorsen dipped his head. “Yes, sir.” The gunny did the same.

“Fine. Now, I'll only say this once and I'll deny to my grave having said it. Taking Victor Company away from Lieutenant Paen was a bad idea. You never heard that from me.”

“Sir?” Halvorsen hadn't expected Raghavan's admission or the jammer on the table, and he quickly shifted tacks. Maybe the commandant had had no choice in the matter. That led even higher up the chain of command than he would ever have conceived of on his own. Wherever he'd thought this meeting might go, it had definitely jumped into uncharted space, to—he feared—plain-clothed civvies who passed laws instead of intel for a living, and had no idea about how to run a military. He wondered just what he'd gotten himself into. He didn't know the commandant well. The man had a reputation for being fair and approachable and that's why Halvorsen had asked for a word with him to begin with. Now he didn't know what to say and part of him wished he hadn't said anything at all.

Humor danced in the blacks of Raghavan's eyes. “Colonel. You needn't say any more. Lieutenant Paen is headstrong. We no doubt agree on that count. But, I'll take an officer I have to dial back every time over one who's overly cautious because she's afraid of making a mistake. Paen didn't deserve what just happened to her, not one bit.”

“Then why, sir?” Halvorsen's question might have angered a lesser officer, and earned him a chewing-out.

“Timing, Colonel. After they benched General Granby, Paen was on
their
radar.” Raghavan raised an eyebrow. “You understand? Why do you think I'm involved at all, with the career of a mere first lieutenant? Let's just say I did it for an old friend and leave it at that.”

Telling, that,
Halvorsen thought.
Good for her.
Paen had a rabbi somewhere in the Corps who had enough clout to pull the commandant of the RAW-MC into a meeting about the future of her career, and that list had to be very short. Maybe less than a handful of senior officers, and they probably all had stars on their collar points.
Good on her.