Theirs Not to Reason Why 5: Damnation (34 page)

Sunrise stepped forward. “Welcome aboard, Admiral-General Myang. Colonel Lars Sofrens, Lieutenant Commander Dasha Talpur,” she added with a polite nod to each of the officers. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your quarters once you have your luggage in hand.”

“Wait, isn’t that . . . ?” Mandella asked, frowning and pointing at Mara. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a military prison? For that incident with Counci—”

“—She’s been given a full pardon, so none of that matters,” Ia countered, interrupting him before he could name any names.

At his frown, she flicked her gaze pointedly to the reporter, who was still hanging back by the luggage. Mandella followed her gaze and lifted his head slightly. “Right. It doesn’t matter. Not that it should have mattered in the way it did originally, either. Now, can we please board?”

“Welcome aboard, Premiere Mandella. Bravo! Sierra!” she snapped, startling Denora de Marco and the five security agents who were accompanying the Premiere. “Fetch the luggage off the sled. That machine stays with the
Kuribayashi
, and does not touch this deck. This is still a restricted vessel and shall remain so.”

“We don’t take orders from
you
,” Agent Bravo growled, clearly still upset that her lieutenant had threatened to shoot his charge.

Ia stared him down. This was the downside to letting Spyder have his fun. “The entire Alliance, and with it, the Terran United Planets, is still engaged in wartime under the rules of Martial Law. I am the General of the Alliance Armies and am in charge of that rule of Martial Law. I am also the captain-and-commander of this starship,
and
its chief pilot. You will do what I say, when I say it. Be glad that all I am asking is that you bring the damned luggage on board . . . because I have every legal power in the book to say who gets to board and who gets left
behind
.”

“Bravo, Sierra, get the luggage. All of you get it,” Mandella added to the other three. “And you
do
take orders from General Ia, so long as they do not conflict with my personal, immediate safety.”

All five Agents scowled in similar ways, though they ran the gamut of ethnicities, from sandy blond and spotted with cinnamon freckles, to skin so dark, chocolate would look pale in comparison. But they did turn to the sled. Looking rather out of her depth, de Marco quickly grabbed her two allotted bags from the sled and hefted them over the threshold.

“You’re going to have to make it up to them, you know,” Mandella added dryly to Ia. “And to me. I was not expecting to be threatened.”

“Technically, we only threatened the Admiral-General . . . but yes, I do apologize,” Ia replied lightly. “My crew has been concerned with the level of tension I’ve been under. Lieutenant Spyder, having known me from my Basic days, thought his strictly-by-the-book actions might amuse me—legally, he had every right to act exactly as he did, following his orders to the letter.”

The Premiere eyed her and arched a dark brow. “Presuming you foresaw his intent, is that why you let it happen? Because it amused you?”

Now she smiled, letting her humor show. “Yes. It actually did cheer me up a little . . . but then my sense of humor has always been a bit
noir
.” Gesturing at her first officer, she introduced them. “Premiere, this is Commander Meyun Harper. Harper, this is Premiere Justinn Mandella.”

“Welcome aboard, sir,” Harper greeted him. “If you and your Agents will come with me, once you all have your luggage sorted, I will show you to your quarters, just as Private Sunrise will show the Admiral-General and her attachés to theirs.”

“Meioa de Marco, you’re with me,” Ia told the reporter before de Marco could feel left out or forgotten. She gestured for the Dabinian woman to move over to her side in the long airlock, and watched as the Agents moved luggage over.

As soon as it was on their side, Myang, her two officers, Denora, and the five security specialists sorted through and grabbed their own gear. Ia touched the airlock buttons, first on the
Kuribayashi
side, which had extended its gantry to the
Damnation
’s airlock, then on her own side. Agent Whiskey hefted the Premiere’s luggage as well until the Premiere eyed him, held out his hands, and accepted the two cases from the grudging hands of his aide.

Satisfied everything was on board, Ia checked the lights that confirmed the airlock door had sealed tight, then lifted her chin at Spyder. As he moved to cycle the middle door, she touched her comm button on her arm unit.
“General Ia to Private Dinyadah, kindly inform the
Kuribayashi
that our passengers have fully boarded, the airlock seals are green on our side, and they are now free to disengage when ready. Then call Sugai Traffic Control to let them know our intent to decouple and depart. General Ia to Yeoman Fielle; permit the flagship to disengage and move first. When they are at least five klicks off, set course for Sallha at FTL speeds.”

“Aye, sir.” “Sir, yes, sir!”

“FTL speeds?” Premiere Mandella asked, eyeing her over his shoulder. “Aren’t we using that secret faster-than-FTL ability of yours to get there?”

She shook her head, gesturing for Denora to follow her as the last two out of the outer airlock. “Premiere, no, sir. We do have a dedicated vacuum hub on board for using the comms while traveling faster-than-light, and I know you’ll need to be in touch with several people for the next six hours. We cannot enter any hyperrifts while doing so because it does involve using an other-than-light hyperrift itself. When you sign off to go to sleep, that’s when we’ll switch to hyperwarp and finish the trip.

“Going slow will also give Meioa de Marco a chance to see what the survey drones are recording on Sallha,” she added, glancing at the other woman, who had finally recovered from her wide-eyed state.

“I wish we could have a dozen years sifting via remote robotics through the treasures of Sallha,” de Marco admitted. She held up her hand quickly, “I know, you explained off the record that every second spent
not
destroying the planet is a second someone could slip through and grab a bit of the plague to threaten the other worlds with, but . . . we’re going to lose a lot of their history, their culture . . .”

“I know,” Ia agreed. “You have no idea how much I regret having to do all of this.”

“The xenoanthropologists are going to have to content themselves with studying lightwave and hyperrelay transmissions,” Mandella stated, stepping through the innermost airlock door. “Those robots the Alliance sent down this last week have been turning on every broadcasting system available and hooking them into the Salik databanks.”

“I’d be happy to give them more time to study,” Myang said, “but the battle reports state there have been several attempts of criminals trying to send drones into the atmospheres of the infected worlds to capture the plague, no doubt to try to hold whole planets hostage for ransom demands.” She glanced back at Ia. “Though I would like to have captured more than a few of their parent ships, on top of knowing exactly where and when to destroy those drones. I should order you to tell me.”

“Unfortunately, sir, my personal philosophy insists that if they do not absolutely have to die, for the betterment of all, I have to give them the chance to continue living,” Ia said. “I know, or can find out within a single second, the identity and location of any murderer, serial killer, terrorist, rapist, or whatever out there.

“I could even coerce the Feyori into sending someone back in time to stop Vladinsky’s followers from destroying Vladistad with that nuclear bomb, and I know I’d be saving well over a million lives if I did so. But I
know
that letting that event happen prevented the destruction of many
more
lives,” she told Myang, knowing that Mandella, the two aides, the Agents, and especially de Marco were listening to her words. “Yes, letting a serial killer roam free is an immoral act on the surface. But they are butterfly wings; some will flap and create a devastating hurricane through a chain of events which only I can foresee. Many others will flap, and not stir anything but the faintest breeze.”

“S’not our place as sojers t’ decide who lives ’r dies,” Spyder added, speaking up from the back of the group. “S’our place t’ decide if’n enemy lives or dies, and enemies aren’t everybody. We identify an enemy, we take that enemy down. Sometimes that means wi’ a stunner; sometimes that means wi’ a knife. Sometimes wi’ an ’ydrobomb, and God damn us f’r killin’ so much, but our job
ain’
rampant destruction in every lil’ instance, meioas. It’s gettin’ th’ job
done
, frugally, efficiently, an’ hopefully gettin’ ourselves back out again alive.”

“It’s getting the job done, and done right, so we can have peace,” Ia agreed. One of the two men who had pulled his laser pistol, Agent Tango, frowned at her. “Gentlemeioas, I want to put half the Space Force out of business.” Her words earned her a sharp look and a thoughtful frown from Myang. Ia continued. “I want to send those men and women home. Without the need for a massive Blockade effort, there isn’t a need for a massive Blockade task force, and those meioas will finally get to go home. There will always be a need for the Space Force, period, but we won’t need it to be nearly so big, nor so psychologically taxing as Blockade Patrol has been.”

“Here is where we part company, sirs,” Private Sunrise interjected politely, and held out a datapad. “Admiral-General, you’ve been assigned to share a cabin in Lieutenant Spyder’s old quarters with the lieutenant commander, as she’s your aide-de-camp; Colonel, you have quarters across from them in Sergeant Santori’s cabin. Please apply your thumbprints to the scanner on the pad, so your quarters can be locked for your use.”

“Former cabin?” Myang asked, glancing at the former Marine. “You’re not quartered there . . . ? Oh, right. You married someone, didn’t you?”

“Ship’s doc, Jesselle Mishka,” he confirmed. “Santori’s moved in wi’ Lieutenant Helstead, 3rd Platoon. Makes f’r easier sleepin’ if they don’ hafta share a bed at th’ same time.”

“Your suite, Premiere Mandella, is up on Deck 6,” Harper stated. “You’ll be taking over our chaplain’s quarters, since that gives you an office to work from. The couch in the office and the one in the private sitting room are convertible into beds with all the standard Lock and Web features, so we’re quartering two of your Agents in there as well, presuming that Agents Bravo and Sierra will not be sleeping in shifts. The other three, Agents Whiskey, Tango, and Foxtrot, will be bunking next door in Private Warden’s and Hardon’s quarters.”

“And where did those privates get shuffled off to?” Mandella asked.

“Quarters for Privates Dhargas and Doedig,” Ia answered him. “They’re in the 1st Platoon, so they don’t share the same sleep schedule.”

“If you’re such a big precognitive, and have a
carte blanche
budget,” Agent Sierra said, “I’m surprised you didn’t build extra quarters into the ship for us. You knew we’d be here.”

“That would be a waste of resources and space. You’ll only be on board for a couple of weeks,” Ia told him, gesturing to head toward the lift now that Myang and the other two were accessing their quarters. Sunrise passed Harper a datapad and held out one to Ia as well before stepping into the colorfully haired lieutenant’s old quarters.

“But you knew this guy was marrying and moving,” Sierra pointed out, flipping a hand at Spyder.

“Actually, I didn’t consider it, as it was a very low probability that those two would fall in love and get along so well,” Ia told him. “As it is, his quarters have only been empty for a little while—and by empty, I mean, being used as a storage area, up until yesterday when it was cleaned out and refurnished as living quarters. Most of the others who have paired up, it’s simply been a matter of swapping bunks with their respective teammates.”

“What about me?” de Marco asked her. “Where am I sleeping?”

“Deck 10 fore section, with Privates Aggie Wildheart and Morgan van de Kamp; they’re 3rd Platoon. Wildheart is one of the four bridge techs for navigation and scanners for that shift, so she’ll be able to answer several questions firsthand for you on my combat skills and leadership styles. They have a couch that’s been converted into a bed as well.”

“So I would stick to 3rd Platoon areas, such as the common rooms, rec facilities, and the galley they use, right?” Denora wanted to confirm. It was clear she had done some reading up on psychological needs for space and territory.

“Nope,” Spyder told her as the lift arrived, and they boarded. “Crew’s small ’nuff. Ia said, whole ship’s one big happy fam’ly. Galley’s wherever y’ getcher food. Most sign up fer a specific meal ’n go t’ that ’un ferra nosh, but addin’ ten randomly won’ strain th’ cookin’ crews.”

“If a door opens for you—any of you,” Ia added, swaying with the slightly sideways curve of the lift as it moved, “—then you can go in there and have a look around. The ship’s internal security system has been programmed for your appropriate clearance levels. Once you’ve put your thumbprint in the system for your quarters, you’re in the system for everything. I’m afraid you’ll find a lot of places are restricted access, though some of them you can ask, and if it’s safe enough with an escort, you can have a quick look under supervision.”

Mandella eyed her. “So what areas am
I
restricted from?”

“Anything to do with the main cannon, sir. You are also absolutely forbidden to touch the command console in any way, which is the foremost rule for all personnel on board.”

The doors to the lift slid open for Deck 9, and she stepped out. The reporter followed her. Mandella blocked the opening with his arm. “Why is it forbidden to touch the command console?”

“Because if anyone tampers with the control for the main gun, this entire ship will blow up in one minute, with no way to stop it,” Ia told him bluntly. “I have too much work left to do to allow anyone to
shakk
it all away, so as much as I like and respect you, I would have to shoot you dead first before you got within half a meter of it—of course, since I know you and your Agents are smart,” she added as they bristled around their charge, “I’m glad that won’t likely happen. Enjoy your quarters, sir, gentlemeoas. Don’t worry about ousting Chaplain Benjamin; she’s been moved into my quarters for the time being, and she’ll be using one of the smaller meeting rooms for her counseling sessions.”