Theirs Not To Reason Why: A Soldier's Duty (61 page)

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Authors: Jean Johnson

BOOK: Theirs Not To Reason Why: A Soldier's Duty
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He nodded slowly, accepting that. Then lifted a brow. “But you
do
think I’m attractive?”
She twisted her mouth in a wry smile. “When you’re not being a selfish, self-centered, uncaring, murderous bastard . . . yes. But I wouldn’t have you any other way. So long as you obey my prophecies, that is. Now. Go fetch the pilot of this courier ship,” Ia ordered, dragging him back onto task. “We’re losing time I cannot waste, and I’d rather not have to dodge any awkward questions as to why we’re running late.”
“Of course, Pr . . . ah, Ia. I’ll get him here immediately.” Opening the door, he left. Heddle escaped in his wake. Once the door had slid shut again, Ia moved to rest against the counter, far enough from the opening that anyone entering the room would not immediately see her. That would give her time to strike.
I
really
have to find a better way to convince people to do everything I need. Words and the proof of my prophecies can only go so far. Particularly for all the times I myself will not be there.
 
 
TZL 11818 SYSTEM
 
“You’re late,” Captain Sudramara stated, the moment the courier ship’s airlock hissed open, revealing Ia, Drek, and his crew.
“We had engine troubles,” she dismissed. “Permission to come back aboard, Captain?”
“Granted. But I wasn’t born yesterday; I do realize ‘engine troubles’ is a common euphemism for groping your . . . boyfr . . .” Sudramara stopped midword. Stared. The sextet of men in the airlock were worth the interruption.
Drek, Heddle, the pilot Kells, the engineer, and two gunners had all switched from business suits and ship suit coveralls to their version of battle attire. From boots to gloves, pants to fitted jackets, it consisted of deep shades of purple and black plexleather studded with bits of metal. Some of the metal wasn’t even weaponry. They had also braided their hair, and in Heddle’s case his beard, donned several barbaric-looking piercings, and streaked dark war paint across the visible portions of their skin.
“. . . The hell?” the captain of the
Liu Ji
asked, glancing between them and Ia, who had moved onto the gantry the docking crew had extended to the cylindrical courier’s side. “
These
are corporate raiders?”
Drek smiled. His canine teeth looked pointed, thanks to false caps. “Sometimes we like to emphasize the ‘raider’ half. A large part of any successful business dealing lies in the establishment of an effective reputation, and a memorable corporate image. This is all just part of that image. It allows us to resume normal clothes and normal lives when we’re not on the clock, so to speak. Now. Permission for my crew and I to come aboard, Captain?”
Again, Sudramara looked between Drek and Ia, eyes wide.
“Armed?”
“Captain, the deal includes the fact that they will behave themselves in a lawful and respectful manner while on board this ship,” Ia pointed out. “That does not, however, include disarming them.”
Drek placed one gloved hand on his chest and gave Captain Sudramara a half bow, smiling with a few too many teeth. “I would never do anything to upset my lady . . . but I
never
go into a business deal disarmed. We come aboard as we are . . . or we leave, and we take the information you need with us.”
Sudramara looked between them a third time, then pointed his finger at Ia. “If anything happens while they’re on board, it’s
your
head on the chopping block,
Acting
Lieutenant.”
“I take full responsibility for their actions while on board, sir,” she returned, unfazed.
“Permission, Captain?” Drek asked again, this time smiling with just his lips.
“Granted. Keep your ‘boyfriend’ on a short leash,” Sudramara ordered Ia.
“He knows how to behave, sir. As for the ‘engine troubles’ we had,” Ia added, pulling out and displaying a datachip from her shirt pocket, “it involved the conversion factors between his FTL ships and military vessels, and not some euphemism. I was having to work out a lot of this stuff from memory on just what shape the
Liu Ji
’s hull actually is, and where the warp panels are distributed around it. This datachip has specifications for field intensity variations, thruster adjustments, and energy requirements. You
did
fill up every single tank and spare water container on board while I was off getting kidnapped, correct?”
Sudramara took the chip from her and started up the gantry ramp. “We did. But that’s assuming this ship will still be intact enough to need all that fuel for a firefight at the far end of the hyperrift.”
“We will. You won’t get the Marines and anyone else we pick up along the way past the orbital defense grid without at least the threat of being able to knock it out. Drek’s engineers stole the specs straight from the Solaricans, and worked the conversions for his own little fleet. All the hard work has already been done for you,” she stated, following the captain.
Drek and his crew followed Ia. At the end of the ramp, two pairs of soldiers, one set Marines and the other set Navy, joined them, giving Drek and his men wary looks. She addressed Sudramara’s concerns as they headed for the lifts.
“We’ll have to be running at minimal internal power to save the hydrogenerators from strain, but Drek’s engineers know what they’re doing. I gave him specs that would err on the conservative side of caution.”
“I am uncomfortable with you giving
criminals
sensitive military information,” he growled.
“We already knew most of the needed specifications,” Drek stated, earning him a hard look. He shrugged. “Mostly for things like insystem speed, FTL capacity, and other general, public knowledge. Fuel capacity and total available energy output weren’t things we knew. Nor the placement of the field generators, since you disguise them so well on your hulls.”
“With good reason! I don’t like—”
“Captain,” Drek interrupted, catching Sudramara’s sleeve and halting them. He let go immediately, for which Ia was grateful, and spoke bluntly, directly. “I have
never
targeted the military. That is suicidal. Most of us are smart enough to leave you alone. The meioas you hunt, however, are far more powerful, and far more arrogant than you realize. They believe they
can
withstand the might of the Terran military. This is something I believe is a big enough mistake, I am willing to help you correct it. A mistake that, if not corrected immediately, will spill over onto all of the rest of us.
That
is why I am here.”
“Well, maybe that’s a good thing,” Sudramara shot back. “Maybe it
should
wipe out the lot of your kind.”
“Captain.”
This time it was Ia who cut him off. She met his frown with a cold stare. “You do not work for the Branch Special Forces. You do not have any training in the intricacies of covert operations . . . and it seems as if you have forgotten your Academy training on diplomacy at the moment. Your opinions on this matter are immaterial. The Navy flies fast, shoots hard, and carries others into and out of combat. That is your assignment. Carry it out.”
He stepped forward, tall enough to look down at her by five or six centimeters. “And
you
,
Acting
Lieutenant, forget your place! You don’t give orders on my ship!”
She didn’t back down. “And you forget
your
place, Ship’s Captain.
You
are in the Navy.
You
do not have the rank to give
or alter
the orders given to the Marine Corps. That includes
me
.
I
take my orders from
my
duly appointed superiors, up the chain of command in that Marine Corps, all the way to the Command Staff. Of which, General Sranna is a lawfully designated substitute superior.
He
has been given training in understanding the needs and requirements of covert ops.
He
has authorized the presence of these men on board the
Liu Ji
, because
he
has the authority to speak for operations across
all
four Branches.
“
Shova
the
shakk
all you want, Captain,” Ia stated, not quite poking him in the chest, “your
orders
are to cooperate in helping the Marine Corps rescue its missing soldiers.
This
is the fastest way to do so, in the manner least likely to get Captain Ferrar and the others killed the moment we try. Take some comfort in the fact that this is
my
mission, and therefore
my
head is on the block, if these ‘special agents’ get out of line. They are not the Navy’s problem; they are the Marine Corps’ problem, and most specifically
mine
.
“Fly fast, shoot hard, and get
all
of us in and out of there. Alive.
Do
you have a problem with the orders a member of the Command Staff, one of your lawfully designated superior in the Navy’s chain of command, has given to
you
, Captain?” she asked, her voice hard but quiet.
A muscle ticked in Sudramara’s tanned cheek. “No. I do not.”
“I’m glad. We’ll need to send a time-delayed message to Battle Platform
Justicar
, so they’ll know we’ll be needing reinforcements as soon as we show up in the system. Any sooner, and word might get back to our targets,” Ia added. “I’d like to get everyone in and out in one piece, without any further betrayals of our plans to the enemy.”
“Don’t worry about my crew and me on this job, Captain,” Drek stated quietly, catching Sudramara’s attention. Drek dipped his painted head in Ia’s direction. “You and your threats don’t mean a damn to us . . . but
she
scares the
shakk
out of us. You have my word as a businessman and a fellow captain that we will not step out of line.”
“Good,” Ia snapped, glad he hadn’t gone so far as to give her game away. “Your orders are to be polite, respectful, and cooperative on any matter relating to this operation.” She turned back to Sudramara. “Drek has sent the message that he has captured me and is willing to deliver me in person for a tidy fee. I am hoping that this means they’ll wait until they have me in their hands before they carry out their intentions toward the others, but we don’t know what this Lyebariko intends to do to our missing soldiers. We have to assume the worst, and that means time is running out. You know Drek already. These are his best engineer and his best pilot from his fleet. Gentle-meioas, introduce yourselves.”
“Captain Sudramara, I am called Zipper. I am the closest you’ll get to an expert at Solarican style star-hopping without actually being fuzzy,” the tallest man in the group stated politely, if wryly. “Engines producing the balance of power to the warp fields need to be monitored carefully by someone with experience in surfing a natural rift. It is as much a matter of sound as it is of scanners, so I would like to be escorted to your engine room. I shouldn’t need to touch anything, but I do need to know that my advice will be heeded, or the rift will buck us back into realspace. In pieces, if we aren’t careful.”
“And I’m Kells,” Drek’s pilot stated, smiling and holding out his hand. He dropped it when Sudramara just stared at him. “Your
Liu Ji
, here, is a sweet ship, but she needs to be piloted by someone who knows what is normal behavior and what is dangerous. I’m the best at surfing the rifts, so that means I will actually have to touch the helm controls.” He tipped his head and flashed Sudramara a grin. “But if it makes you feel better, you could always have a pretty girl hold a gun to my head while I fly this ship. I like a little spice in my life. Makes things interesting.”
The look Sudramara aimed at him was a disgusted one, but the captain turned away without saying anything more, including any protests. Ia sighed and followed, mindful of how closely she had skimmed the legalities in what they were doing, and how closely she had just walked the line of military protocols, too.
 
 
MARCH 31, 2492 T.S.
SIC TRANSIT
 
“Harder!” Ia ordered, straightening back up. She staggered in the next moment, but so did the man in front of her. As did the men and women watching this fight.
Most of them were fellow Marines, members of the 1st Platoon who were supposed to be exercising as they bounced their way through hyperspace wrapped in a tenuous FTL bubble that could break at any minute. One of them was Drek, who leaned against the mirrored wall with his arms crossed over his plexleather-covered chest. Not that anyone could see much, since most of the lights had been shut down to conserve energy, but they were watching the two of them.
Spyder raised his fists again, but hesitated. They were covered in clunky rings that didn’t quite fit his fingers even over the thin exam gloves he wore to keep his genetics off the silver. “I’m not exactly comf’rable doin’ this.
Sir.
”
“You’re under my orders, Sergeant. It’s all perfectly legal.” She gave him an impatient look when he hesitated. “I need
color
, Spyder. Cuts, bruises, all of it. And it has to have time to age by a few hours. Everything has to look real. It’s completely realistic for me to have woken up and fought my captors, and for them to take out some of their frustrations on me. But it’s
not
legal for Drek or his men to hit me. I don’t intend to give the captain of this ship any excuse to lock them in the brig. Now,
hit
me.”

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