Virtues of War (11 page)

Her eyes passed right over the various couples and groups seated at the café tables, and focused immediately on the sprawling collection of men and women wearing green coveralls. She was immediately struck by how fit they all looked—not a flabby belly or large butt among them. Lean faces and tight haircuts abounded, with laughter as the order of the day.

It didn’t take long to spot Scott Lahko. Tall, thick, and brutish, he was a butt-ugly ape with a loud voice and even louder laugh. If his olive skin and black hair were any guide, he traced his heritage from the Levant, making him the ideal choice for the occasional public relations maneuver—as long as he wore his helmet with the visor down.

He spotted Katja as soon as she approached, breaking off his conversation to greet her.

“Big K! Back from the wars.” He reached out and punched at her shoulder, but she swatted his hand away.

“Keeping you safe, Scotty.” Her eyes were barely level with his chest, but she stared up at him fearlessly. She took in the small group of officers around her, all men and all at least a head taller than her. “How you doing, boys?”

None of them were Saracens, but they greeted her amiably. Scott picked up the thread of his story again. It was an old tale from the Dog Watch, and Katja had heard it many times before, so she slipped into the context without much effort, adding her own comments when Scott got just a little too far from the truth. The story concluded with a roar of laughter.

“Lieutenant Emmes,” came a female voice from behind, “you look thirsty.”

Katja turned and saw her troop leader, Commander Cassandra Vici, holding a mug of beer in each hand. Vici was tall and lean, with a thin, angular face that had hints of white, faded scarring, and black hair that hung straight to her shoulders. She wasn’t smiling, but Katja had learned to recognize the intensity in her dark eyes as good humor.

She took the proffered beer.

“Thanks, skipper.” She peered around the room. “Looks like a good crowd tonight.”

“The past few days have been busy with section training, so it’s time to blow off some steam.”

“I bet the troopers are partying hard down below.”

“How was your mission?”

One thing was always certain about Commander Vici—she wasted little time on small talk. Katja knew the question wasn’t just a polite inquiry, either. Vici wanted an informal report.

She quickly summarized the mission. Facts only—no interpretation. She knew well that her own opinion would hardly make the mission look like a success.

Vici nodded, then grabbed Scott’s elbow. “Lahko, since Emmes is here I want to speak to all the Saracens. Find the others and meet me by the windows in ten.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The troop commander moved away through the crowd with a determined stride.

Scott looked down at Katja. “Hey, I read up a bit on your FAC. You never said you worked with Thomas Kane.”

Katja shrugged. “You never asked. It didn’t seem important, but I just found out a few days ago that he did a stint in the Corps.”

“No shit. Who do you think recommended this little trooper for his commission?”

She was surprised. “You know Kane?”

Scott laughed. “That story I was just telling about the Dog Watch? Who do you think the lieutenant was who busted us?”

“I had no idea.” She felt a smile growing on her lips. “I can see him busting you, too. But I also understand why you were never charged.”

“He was no-nonsense in the field, but, man, did he have a good sense of humor in barracks. Hey! You should invite him here this evening. He wasn’t Levantine, but once a trooper, always a trooper.”

A flurry of emotions swarmed through Katja’s chest. “Oh, no, I’m sure—”

“Yeah! Give him a call,” Scott persisted. “Just see if he wants to come down for a drink. It’ll be good to see him.”

“Scott, I’m sure he’s still busy writing his mission report—”

“All the more reason to get him out for a friendly drink.”

“He’s your friend—
you
call him.”

Scott grabbed her shoulders and gently but firmly turned her and pushed her away from the bar. “You call him, and tell him to be here in twenty minutes. I have to go round up the other Saracens. I’ll see you at the windows.”

Propelled clear of the crowd, Katja stopped for a moment, feeling exposed and stupid. Professionally, there was nothing wrong with inviting her CO out for a drink, especially since he was a former trooper. But something was making her feel guilty, and she was embarrassed at her own guilt.

She forced herself to take a step forward, then another.

There was a bank of comms stations near the entrance, and Katja sidled into one of the half-booths. She searched out the cabin number for “Kane, Thomas, Lt(C).” When the five-digit number appeared before her, she felt a knot in her stomach. Procrastinating for a moment, she took a pull of her beer and gazed around the room. Maybe he was already there…

Frowning, she put down her glass and tapped in the number before she had a chance to think.

The sound of ringing warbled in the headset. Once. Twice.

Maybe he wasn’t home—

“Lieutenant Commander Kane.”

“Uhh, hi, sir. It’s Lieutenant Emmes.”

“Hi, Ops. What can I do for you?” His tone suggested mild surprise.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I, sir?”

“Not really. I was just thinking about getting something to eat before I finish off the mission report.”

“Oh. Well, umm, there’s a Levantine Jihad going on down in the star lounge, and, since you used to be a trooper yourself, I was—that is, we were wondering… hey, do you know Scott Lahko?”

There was a pause, and Katja felt her stomach contracting to one tenth its normal size. Could she sound more like an idiot?

“Scott Lahko…” Thomas mused. “Oh, yeah, one of my troopers. Good kid.”

“Well, he’s here, and when he heard that you were the CO, he said you should come down and have a drink with us.”

“That’s nice he remembers me.”

“And not just him, sir. I mean, it’d be nice—for me—to spend, to have a drink with you.” Katja closed her eyes and rested her head against the bulkhead. Her cheeks were burning.

“I’ll come on one condition, Katja.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“That you stop calling me sir. At least for an evening.”

She laughed nervously. “I’ll try my best, sir. Ah! Shit. Okay, now I’ll try my best.” His warm laughter eased the knot in her stomach. A bit. “We’re just having a snakepit with our troop commander. We should be done in about twenty minutes.”

“Great. Have you eaten?”

“Me? Uhh, no. Just beer so far.”

“Do you and Lahko want to eat with me at the star lounge? I’m starving.”

“I’ll ask him. If not, I’m sure he’d be happy to just drink at the table.”

More laughter. “Then he hasn’t changed much.”

“See you soon, sir.”

“Katja…”

Her cheeks flushed anew.

“Thomas.”

“See you.”

She heard the line click off, but she stood with the headset to her ear for a long moment, forehead against the bulkhead.

O
n the far side of the lounge, the officers of Saracen Troop were gathering around their commander. Katja moved quickly through the tables and up to join them. Besides Vici and Lahko, she recognized Sublieutenant Wei Hu, Lieutenants Serge Wicki and Sven Pletsers, and First Lieutenant Gopal Sung.

Wei had taken over Katja’s old platoon when she was transferred to
Rapier
, but she barely knew him. His lack of experience and smooth, youthful features made him seem even greener than he was. Wicki and Pletsers were both tall North Europeans, and Gopal was a short, wiry Himalayan. The first lieutenant was a platoon leader like other junior officers, but had the additional responsibility of being the troop’s second-in-command.

Katja had worked with these men for years before going on her fast-attack course, and she slipped into the group effortlessly. Feeling immediately at home, she very much appreciated Vici’s gesture to include her, even though she no longer had an official role in the regiment.

“Troops, it’s been a good couple of days,” the commander began. “I’m pleased with the maneuvers, especially because we beat the Spartans at their own game.” This comment drew chuckles, but Katja could only guess at the meaning. “Gopal, you did well as commander when they took me out.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Gopal said.

“I’m not going to keep you long—and I figure Lahko’s already too drunk to remember anything important—but I’m going to be in planning meetings tomorrow, so I won’t have time to brief you then. Here’s the situation.

“The cease-fire on Cerberus is holding, but Intelligence reports a lot of unrest, particularly in the Lhasan region. It seems, Emmes, that your little raid drew more attention than we expected—it’s probably a good thing that you got out as fast as you did. Fleet’s going to try and soothe everybody by delivering humanitarian supplies to Free Lhasa in a few days. Our regiment has had no official change of orders, but I wouldn’t be surprised if we pay the Cerberans a visit within the next month. So schedule some heavy-grav training over the next couple of weeks.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gopal said, speaking for them all.

“The official Laikan government has been making some friendly overtures to Terra recently, and the Expeditionary Force is scheduled to conduct some military operations in Laika’s vicinity as a gesture of goodwill—and to put on a show for the insurgents. My understanding is that the entire EF will rendezvous in the Anubian system, do some exercises near Laika, and then split off again. This shouldn’t affect us.

“Otherwise, Centauri military presence is light, and reported piracy incidents are down. We’re coming up on the mid-deployment leave period, so have your plans for personnel rotation on my screen by the end of the week. Any questions?”

There were none.

“Then have a good evening.”

The six junior officers instinctively straightened to attention and waited as Vici departed. Then, as if a switch had been thrown, they all relaxed and took long pulls of their drinks.

Gopal wrapped a strong arm around Katja’s shoulders.

“Good to see you, Big K,” he said. “It’s nice to feel tall for once.”

Katja’s eyes were nearly level to those of the first lieutenant, and she met his gaze while trying to suppress a smirk.

“If you keep touching me, I guarantee you’ll feel weak and broken pretty soon.”

He backed away with a great show of trepidation.

“How was your mission?” Wicki asked. “Sounds like you’re just making more work for us.”

Katja shrugged, and quickly described the events of the strike. The other platoon leaders listened with interest, asking pointed questions when relevant. None of them seemed to think that the incident in building seven was anything noteworthy, and while they all agreed with Katja that a continuation of the search would have been best, no one questioned the outcome of the mission.

“Sounds like the Cerberans were on to you,” Gopal concluded. “Not much you can do at that point but bug out.”

Katja sighed, feeling better for having discussed the mission with her colleagues.

“It’s frustrating, though,” she said. “And it means we have to go back again when there’s new intelligence.”

“I’d rather that, than for us have to mount a rescue mission to bust your ass out of there.”

“Fair enough.”

“Yeah, forget about it.” Lahko stepped into the middle of the circle. “Everybody made it back, and we’ll sort it out later. Tonight we drink, because it’s jihad.” He hefted his beer and shouted in his full combat voice. “Jihad!”

Echoes of “jihad” were cried out from the Corps crowd across the star lounge, as well as the inevitable ululations. Katja always wondered if any Muslims in the regiment were offended by this, and she cast her eye over the crowd to watch for reactions. She saw a mix of disinterest and disbelief, but no apparent outrage.

She also saw the familiar form of Charity Brisebois, all smiles as she sat down at a table with that young pilot of hers. Katja took another gulp of beer and wondered when Breeze had found the time to troll the Astral College for a boyfriend. Katja was almost thirty, and Breeze was at least a few years older—what in the world was she doing with that kid?

And then she saw Thomas wandering in from the passageway. Without thinking she waved her arm. He spotted the motion and smiled as he waved back. She weaved her way through the tables to greet him.

They met about halfway. He looked fresher, and more relaxed. The deep fatigue was still haunting his eyes, but he was doing his best to hide it behind a friendly smile.

“Hi, Katja.”

“Hi, Thomas.”

He looked at her for a moment, then cast his gaze around the room.

“Pretty good crowd tonight. Troopers were always better at partying, as I recall.”

“And getting into trouble,” she replied, “if my sources are correct.”

“Oh, really? What do you hear?” He cocked an eyebrow.

Katja felt herself going red, and quickly relayed the tale Scott had been telling earlier. At first Thomas looked puzzled, and Katja wondered if Scott hadn’t invented the whole thing. But then the slow dawn of realization broke across his features.

“Ahh,
that
time.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I thought he was going to get busted down to trooper again. Lucky for him, Headquarters was hit by a suicide bomber that same morning and we had to scramble. Lahko earned a medal of bravery that day, so his little indiscretion was forgotten.” Thomas smiled and shook his head. “Quite a guy.” He looked around. “Where is he, anyway?”

Katja quickly looked over her shoulder to where the Saracen officers were still standing by the windows, all watching her with interest. Again she felt her cheeks burning, but she ignored the feeling and motioned for Scott to join her. He made some parting comment to the other officers and worked his way over, grinning broadly.

“Lieutenant Kane,” he said enthusiastically. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you here.”

Thomas stepped beside Katja, his arm brushing against hers.

“Lieutenant Lahko, I can’t believe you’re still alive.”