Virtues of War (51 page)

Normandy
herself had been badly damaged, and there had been a few moments when Breeze had begun looking for the nearest escape pod.

Apparently unfazed by the destruction around him, Chandler had ordered a full withdrawal. Within an hour the regiments had been retrieved and the EF had fled into deep space. As they went, they smashed any last tracking systems on Abeona. As soon as
Normandy
had secured from battle stations, he’d retired to his cabin, and she’d hardly seen him since.

He’d met with the operations officer, she knew, and Colonel Korolev. But otherwise no one had been able to get near to him. And from the bloodshot look in his eyes, she guessed that he’d spent the last twenty-four hours in front of the 3-D display.

“Sir,” she said, “our mission was to distract Centauria from the war in Terra. We’ve done that, without a doubt.” She looked at the display. “Such great success unfortunately comes with great cost.”

He suddenly turned his full, earnest gaze on her.

“But did it have to, Breeze?”

Her mind raced. Why was he asking her? This entire insane plan had been his idea! She stared at him, at his dark, weary features. What was that pain behind his eyes? Was it anger? At whom? She took a stab at it.

“I don’t know, sir, but I’m saddened at how badly the Centauris were able to hit us.”

She saw a flicker of emotion deep in his eyes. He glanced back at the frozen image.

“We should have done better at surviving that battle, shouldn’t we?” He was unhappy at the number of casualties—that was obvious. And he was looking for someone to blame. Obviously not her, so whom?

“It’s so hard to say, sir. An intelligence report before the battle is one thing, but no one can predict how people will react in the heat of the moment.”

Come on, come on
, she thought.
Who do you think messed it up?

He frowned again, and didn’t bite. “I’m sure everyone did the best they could.”

She nodded with an outward show of sympathy, quickly considering her next angle.

“I agree, sir. But with all the replacements we’ve had these past weeks, sometimes people find themselves in a position beyond their capabilities.” Then she hesitated, waiting for his reaction. She could tell that she’d hit a nerve.

He looked at the display again.

“Breeze, you’re not a line officer. But let me ask your opinion. In the early stages of the battle, when we were still landing the regiments, what do you think was the single biggest threat to the Expeditionary Force?”

Her heart sank. How could she possibly guess that? She looked at the 3-D display with an air of studiousness, frantically trying to interpret the symbols. She knew that red meant bad, and she noticed a single red symbol that was larger than all the others. She pointed at it.

“At this point in the battle, I think the greatest threat was here.” She had no idea what she’d pointed out, but Chandler nodded vigorously.

“Exactly!” he gritted. “The damn orbital platforms. They were chewing us apart! Look at this.” He rewound the recording and played the moment where the large blue symbol flashed and disappeared. “When we lost the carrier, we very nearly lost this entire campaign! Why weren’t those orbital platforms taken out sooner?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“But you’re a support officer. I don’t expect you to know! Thomas is a damn line officer!”

Thomas?
Chandler was angry at
Thomas
? Breeze fought to keep her expression neutral.

“Sir, I’m sure Mr. Kane was doing his best. He’s doing a job he isn’t qualified for.” Her words could be interpreted as a defense, but she knew Chandler didn’t take them that way.

“Yeah, that’s pretty clear.” Chandler sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t be saying any of this to you.”

“None of us have slept in days, sir.” She considered reaching out to stroke his arm, then thought better of it. Chandler was in one of his righteous moods, and wouldn’t take kindly to flattery. “I won’t remember a thing.”

He pressed his palms to his eyes, then slowly rubbed down his unshaven cheeks.

“Erikson nearly tore Thomas’s head off, but I kept the peace and kept Thomas in his role for the entire battle.” He shook his head. “Makes me wonder if another AVW controller would have seen that counterattack coming sooner. Maybe we’d still have
Quebec, Provider
, and
Miami
.”

Breeze had done her best to keep tabs on the fortunes of all the command staff replacements who, like her, had been thrown into the spotlight after the Battle of Laika. She’d heard all along that Thomas was quite good in his role as AVW controller, as evidenced by his performance at Cerberus. Erikson was a hardass who Breeze could tell didn’t like the special treatment Thomas enjoyed under Chandler. Maybe he was exaggerating Thomas’s errors to put him down a peg.

Well, Breeze was happy to join in.

“Maybe, sir. At this point we’ll never know. I guess you’ve been reviewing the AVW decisions made during the battle?” Post-analysis of a combat situation was the surest way to raise questions about someone’s competence. With the luxury of time, recordings, and lack of getting shot at, anyone could pick apart the frantic decisions made under fire.

The fact that Chandler was exhausted and stressed would only further cloud his judgment.

“I’ve done plenty of analysis,” he said, indicating the display. “And I’m not impressed at what I see.” His expression was actually more sad than angry. It was disappointment in a protégé, she realized. This was a much more emotionally charged issue for Chandler. He was taking it personally.

“Well, I can’t really comment there, sir, but I’m sure Mr. Kane did his best. I’d hate for him to be judged unfairly.” She made a show of thinking hard, displaying great concern, and then produced an idea. “Sir, perhaps you’d like to review my reports from
Rapier
’s missions during our time in Sirius. If you’re having concerns, perhaps those reports will put things in balance.”

Hope flashed in his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, thanks Breeze. I think I’d like to read those.”

She smiled, trying hard to contain her delight. Her intelligence reports were separate from Thomas’s own mission reports, and in hers she had laid out clearly where she thought Thomas had failed to act appropriately.

Chandler had no idea what he was asking for. From his expression she could see that he really wanted to have his faith restored, and he hoped that her reports would do that. Now that his expectations were suitably raised, her critical review would be all the more damning.

“I’ll forward them to you right away, sir—I can see that this is troubling you. I suggest you read them, put your mind to rest, and then try and get some sleep.”

He nodded again, and managed a half-smile. “Thanks, Breeze. I appreciate your looking after me.”

She donned her most earnest expression. “Sir, the entire EF needs you on your game. This is clearly a distraction, and I want to help you resolve it.”

She cringed inwardly at her own blatant sucking up, but Chandler was too tired to notice, and took her words at face value. As she departed his cabin to dig up her
Rapier
reports, she complimented herself on finding an opportunity after all.

Perhaps today wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

T
he door opened soon after Thomas’s knock, and he pushed himself through into the commodore’s cabin. It looked much as before, with the government-issue furniture and the blackout curtain over the broad window.

Chandler floated in the middle of the cabin, looking up from a report he held in his hand.

The mood among the command team had been strained in the days since the Battle of Abeona, although Thomas couldn’t put his finger on why. All he knew was that Commander Erikson had turned into a bastard, and the other controllers kept to themselves.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Chandler motioned him closer. “Yeah, Thomas, come on in.”

The commodore spent another moment reading the report, nodding to himself as he did. Thomas pushed closer until he floated at a polite distance for conversation, and waited. Finally the commodore looked up again.

“Thomas, with all the survivors we picked up from the destroyed ships after Abeona, I’m going to be making a few staff changes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“
Miami
’s captain is a seasoned AVW controller, and she brings a wealth of experience to my staff. I also think it’s important to keep her fully occupied so that she doesn’t obsess over the loss of her ship.”

Although he should have expected it, Thomas still felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. He was losing his position on the command staff.

“She fought
Miami
well, sir,” he said evenly. “She has nothing to be ashamed of. I certainly appreciate you giving me the opportunity when
Rapier
was put out of service.”

Chandler nodded, but there was something in his eyes Thomas didn’t like. There was a strained moment of silence.

“Sir, where am I being posted?”

“Well, this is the thing…” Chandler’s tone was hardening. “I need every asset I have in action, and that includes
Rapier
. She still can’t do atmo, but she can fly in space and she can carry weapons. That makes her at least as useful as a Hawk or a star fighter.”

So he was returning to his command—that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll ensure she’s up to the task.”

“This is where my doubt begins, Thomas.”

“Sir?”

“Frankly, I’m very disappointed with your performance at Abeona. Those orbital platforms were clearly the biggest threat, and you, as AVW controller, pretty much ignored them until they were on top of us. Even then, you couldn’t think of a way to fight them. As EF commander, Thomas, I really shouldn’t be the one who has to think of tactical solutions.”

Thomas felt a cold pit forming in his stomach.

“Sir, I’m sorry if—”

“I’ve made some time these past few days to take a hard look at your record as
Rapier
’s commander. This is what I see.” He counted off the points on his fingers. “You pulled out of your Cerberan farm strike too early. The warlord troops in Free Lhasa wouldn’t have responded to that distress call inside of thirty minutes—plenty of time for you to get your strike team back down to search for their target.

“You pulled out of the boarding of
Astrid
too early. That Centauri stealth ship would never have got off a killing shot without your destroyer escort seeing and attacking it.

“You didn’t provide proper cover to your strike team in Free Lhasa. If
Kristiansand
hadn’t given orbital bombardment, you would have lost half your team on the ground.

“And now, you’ve dogged it on the repairs to your ship, to the point where she was out of action for the most important battle of this war.”

He dropped his hand.

“Honestly, the only thing keeping you in command right now is your heroism at the Battle of Laika. You deserve the medal you got for that, but otherwise you deserve a desk job. For now, though, I don’t have any other fast-attack-qualified skippers, so I need to stick you back in command. I think the only reason
Rapier
had any success is due to your officers. That trooper Emmes has the biggest gonads I’ve ever seen, and Breeze is as sharp as a whip. I’m putting them both back in to support you.”

Thomas dropped his eyes and stared unseeing at his feet floating over the deck. Just like that, his career was crumbling before him. Eric Chandler, his mentor and patron, had judged him a failure. Choking under pressure as a ship commander and coming up blank as a staff officer.

He’d been given two chances to shine and apparently he’d blown both of them. Chalk up FAC command and AVW control as two more things Thomas Kane had dabbled in, but really had no fucking idea what he was doing.

“Yes, sir,” he said. “Thank you, sir.”

“That’s all, Thomas.”

He retreated without another word.
Normandy
’s wide flats were quiet, but he avoided the gazes of those few he passed. He headed automatically for his cabin, not really knowing what he would do once he reached it. He thought idly that he should probably head up to
Rapier
, go scream at the mechanics to fix her faster, but he just couldn’t muster the effort.

Habit moved him to his desk and a quick scan of his messages. Most were routine, but one from a Master Rating Shin in sickbay caught his eye. He scanned the one-liner quickly, and bolted for the door.

Katja wanted to see him.

* * *

Sickbay was crowded. Every bed was occupied and gurneys filled every nook and cranny. Thomas was surprised as his feet touched down on the deck under sudden gravity, then recalled that medical spaces often had localized AG for the sake of the medical staff. They moved quietly and efficiently among their patients, individual voices lost in the general din.

He scanned beds and peered past curtains, trying to stay out of the way. Finally he glanced through the crack of one curtain, and felt his heart lift.

Katja was sitting on her bed, cross-legged in pale blue, standard issue pajamas, intently reading a hand-held electronic display. An IV was plugged into her wrist, bandages hid her chin and she had a gel-collar around her neck, but otherwise she appeared in one piece.

He blinked away sudden moisture in his eyes and felt a smile split his lips as he stepped through the curtain. So his career was dead. At least Katja wasn’t.

She looked up quickly, then dropped her display on the bed and uncrossed her legs with great effort. She slid bare feet down to the deck and pushed herself up to stand before him. She looked so tiny and delicate, so fragile. He desperately wanted to comfort her, but he forced himself to hold back.

To his surprise, she took a shaky step forward, reached out with both arms and wrapped herself around him, pressing her cheek tightly against his chest. New warmth welled up within him and he carefully put his arms around her. She held him for a long, long moment, taking deep, sighing breaths. He blinked away tears again and hugged her tighter.