Virtues of War (14 page)

He smiled as he opened the channel.

“Romeo’s a bit dazed, but he sure knows a pretty planet when he sees one. I suppose now I have to call you Juliet?” His sensors easily tracked the vessel inbound lazily off his starboard bow, and he could hear Valeria Moretti’s grin behind her words.

“Negative, Romeo. Just stay the strong, silent type while I hook up with you.”

He unlocked his helmet and removed it, letting it float freely as he ensured his sloop maintained a steady velocity. Valeria’s ship was closing his, and a Navy battlecruiser loitered nearby, no doubt in silent-running mode and carrying a few extra passengers from Centauri intelligence.

Valeria maneuvered her craft smoothly alongside, and within a few minutes he heard the clicks and hisses of her airlock coupling to his. He unstrapped from his seat and pushed back through the cabin.

He was as prepared as he could be, but he still had to steel his expression as the airlock hatch opened. Wrapped in a custom spacesuit, Valeria’s legless body seemed almost comically bulbous, but her eyes were as bright as ever as a smile burst through the scarring in her face.

She floated forward, set down a bag of equipment, and gripped his shoulders, planting a firm kiss on each of his cheeks. He returned the gesture and pulled her into a heartfelt hug. It was good to see her.

Then he realized that she was hugging him back. He looked down in surprise.

“You have your whole arm back!”

“Where have you been?” She pushed back and held the right limb up proudly, rolling her new fingers. “This baby finished regenerating weeks ago. Next week we start on one of the legs.”

He purposefully didn’t look at the suited stump of her torso. “They took away your robotics?”

She shook her head. “No use in zero-g; I left them on Abeona. I intend to leave them behind permanently by the time you’re set up for the next phase.”

Kete knew that limb regeneration was a slow, often painful process, where care had to be taken to ensure the proper stem cell development and nerve connectivity growth.

“Why push yourself?” he asked. “You don’t want to grow a lame leg.”

She folded her arms—
both her arms!
—and gave him a firm stare. “Because I can’t really sneak around on Earth with a robotic one.” He tried to protest, but she spoke quickly. “I’m coming as part of the strike team, Kete. Don’t even try and stop me.”

He saw anew the faint burn scars on her face, thought of the two and a half limbs she’d lost during the invasion. She’d endured even more than he had, and underneath her flamboyant style he recognized a much darker energy than that which held open the jump gates. His soul had been crushed by the Terran attack, but hers had been inflamed.

“Stop you?” he replied. “I’ll just be trying to get out of your way.”

He invited her to hover in the sloop’s opulent lounge and opened bulbs of sparkling water for them. He could have activated the artificial gravity, but her incomplete body would be more comfortable in a weightless environment.

“So the new jump gate worked,” he stated with as much casual indifference as he could muster.

“Yeah, the brainiacs watching in our friendly Navy escort will be delighted. Looks like we can jump into a gravity well after all.”

“They weren’t sure?”

She gave him a rueful glance. “They’ve done a few non-living tests before now. But you were the first sentient biological to do it. Congratulations.”

“Well, I’m glad I can make the brainiacs happy. Let me get the data from the jump transmitted over to them.”

They chatted for a long time while the sloop transmitted extra-dimensional telemetry to the battlecruiser, at first exchanging tactical and mission-specific information, moving to the latest politics in both Centauria and Terra, and eventually descending into casual gossip.

It was good to hear the news from home, and Kete wished that his orders required a return to the surface of Abeona. Sadly, this trip was only to prove that the portable jump gate could emerge safely in a gravity well, and take new equipment back with him—their leisurely chat was probably already in violation of the mission timelines.

“They’ve decided not to rebuild the houses on our street,” Valeria said suddenly.

Kete took a sip of his water. “Why?”

Her stare took on new intensity. “They want to build a war memorial.”

His chest tightened. “Do you know the details?”

“Not specifically. The Cloud’s been whispering for months about recognizing the sacrifices of all those who died, but lately I’ve heard more specific announcements about what they’re calling ‘The Battle of Southridge.’”

The Battle of Southridge.
He’d never expected his quiet suburban neighborhood to give its name to military history. The very thought caused him to flush with anger.

“I’ll want to see that.”

Valeria indicated the bag of equipment. “I’ll make sure the gate’s other end is set up so you can.”

Kete glanced at the bag. The next jump would be between the surfaces of two planets—not a method of travel he’d ever have wanted to pick, even if it meant the successful completion of his mission. Although he trusted Centauri technology, and he knew that his government would never throw his life away on unproven science, he knew that his chances of surviving such a gravimetrically affected jump were fair to poor.

But the risks were worth it. And if any of the Centauri agents now on Terra had to be risked, he was happy to volunteer. Unlike the others, his life on Abeona was over.

As he looked out at the beautiful, glowing orb of his homeworld, his mind slowly, inexorably, drifted back to that terrible night.

* * *

The distant crackle of combat was audible far below, and he risked a glance from the deck of his house. The fighting still seemed to be contained close to the industrial park far below, but flying elements had clearly added new chaos to the battlefield. Even as he watched he saw something explode in the air over the low, dark buildings and spiral downward to a fiery impact.

He tore himself from the scene and went into his office. The Cloud was thundering with millions of panicked inputs from all over Abeona. It was impossible to make sense of anything, but he guessed that his town wasn’t the only target being hit. Where the hell had the Terrans come from?

Any inquiries he might have tried were drowned out by a sudden, overwhelming message from the government, rippling through his internal circuits.

The order was so powerful, so desperate, Kete doubted a single Centauri citizen could resist it. He withdrew immediately and cast out a local call to any militia who might be augmented as he was.

Valeria, his neighbor three doors down, was just activating her car and agreed to pick Kete up. He ran to the bedroom for his emergency militia pack. She already had the car door open when he ran down to the grass street.

They greeted each other with equal amounts of wordless shock. Valeria swung the car around and sailed up the dark street to pause at the main intersection. She made to turn left and head into town, but froze at her controls.

Kete followed her gaze.

Coming up to the ridgeline from town, moving in perfect, ruthless unity, a group of silver war machines churned up the road under their tracks. Vaguely humanoid as each rose more than two meters above its armored chassis, the anti-personnel robots—APRs—mounted a devastating array of weapons across their silver bodies. Missile launchers, rotary cannons, hyperbaric pulse guns—these machines had been specifically designed to combat Terran troopers, maintaining both fear and firepower as their arsenals. The lead APR seemed to glance momentarily at Kete and Valeria in the car, but otherwise the column of war machines rolled past indifferently.

Even after they’d disappeared below the ridge heading south, Valeria didn’t get the car moving again. Kete looked over at his neighbor, at the white knuckles and wide eyes.

“Trade places,” he said, throwing open his door. “Let me drive.”

Only when Kete had rounded the car and opened Valeria’s door did she finally react, sliding across to the passenger seat. He strapped in and gunned the car forward, racing down the dark road toward the lights of town.

They passed two more columns of APRs heading into battle, and Kete thought he spotted several flying machines streaking past overhead, as well. In the continual flashes of surface fire and Terran strike fighter attacks, however, it was hard to be sure what was where. He just kept the car headed away from the battlefield, and hoped that no Terran considered him a threat.

Dozens of cars were strewn about the militia depot, abandoned by their drivers in their haste to report for duty. Kete and Valeria ran through the impromptu barricades and, their neural IDs verified by the guards, crowded into the main room of the depot. The wall of noise inside was enough to rival the thunder of the Terran bombardment.

Kete gave Valeria’s arm a squeeze then waded alone into the crowd, struggling to locate his unit. Dozens of men and women jostled for space as they scrambled into combat fatigues, fought with unfamiliar webbing, and gathered their various items of weaponry. Kete had donned his webbing at the house, and didn’t bother with fatigues, heading instead straight for the rifle lockup. Harried quartermasters had long since given up trying to record which weapon was signed out to which soldier, and were practically throwing rifles over the counter at whoever pushed up to receive one.

Kete caught his firearm, grabbing an armful of loaded magazines that were being pushed out onto the counter by a pair of army cadets. Struggling to cradle everything as he moved back out of the crowd, he scanned the room for any of the officers or senior NCOs from his unit.

He caught the eye of Major Mullaly, whom he usually knew as Ted the investment banker. Mullaly motioned him over even as he gathered a group of soldiers around him. Just as Kete struggled up he saw the major’s eyes go vacant for a moment as he conferred via Cloud to military command, and he took the opportunity to stuff magazines into his webbing and load the final one into the rifle itself.

“You got grenades?” someone asked him, holding up a crate.

He shook his head, taking several of the weapons.

He was the only one not in uniform, but the only comment anyone made was to hand him a sticky patch for his shoulder, noting his rank of sergeant. It adhered instantly to his t-shirt and provided all the formality this night seemed to need. The other soldiers around him, he realized, were his fellow NCOs and a couple of officers.

Major Mullaly suddenly returned in mind, and spoke.

“Here’s the deal,” he barked. “Terran Astral troops have landed here in Riverport, as well as in Starfall and Firsthome. It looks like brigade strength at each landing, with limited orbital bombardment support. Their ships are under-strength in orbit and our littoral defenses are hoping to cut off their supply lines to isolate the troops on the ground.”

He went on to explain the tactical situation relevant to them in Riverport, confirming Kete’s observation that the main landing zone had been at the industrial park south of his home, shielded from the town’s main defenses by the very ridge that his house sat upon. Robotic forces were engaging the invaders and containment was the main objective while the Centauri orbital guard fought to cut off any resupply or escape.

“Our mission,” he concluded, projecting a map for all to see, “is to secure the ridgeline and hold it against the Terran advance. The army is moving artillery spotters into place right now, up on the ridge, and that should help a lot in slowing the enemy down.”

Kete examined the map. The ridgeline. Southridge, actually—the neighborhood where he lived. He felt a mixture of relief and fear knowing that his street might become the best-defended part of the city. Yet it also would become a critical battleground.

“Form up your units,” Mullaly said, “and load them into the transports that are arriving. When we get to the top of the ridge keep your men close to the transports, as they’ll be the best cover we—”

Explosions rocked the crowded room.

Kete fell to his knees and struggled against the mass of sweating bodies tumbling around him. Through the smoke he saw militiamen struggling to stand and raise their weapons. Their bodies were hurled backward as slugs exploded out through their torsos. Screams pierced through the din of rifle fire. Kete slipped and fell to all fours as soldiers around him struggled to move.

He caught a glimpse of something metallic that emerged through the smoke, and thought it was an APR, but this was no silver machine. It was a dark-green, mechanical monster that ripped apart the wall of the depot like paper, and strode into the fray on mighty legs. Huge cannons mounted on the beast’s wrists fired exploding rounds indiscriminately into the mass of uniforms, splattering the best and brightest of Riverport across wall, ceiling, and floor.

Kete dove flat to the ground, gritting his teeth in horror as he heard the rapid-fire slugs punch through his fellow soldiers, felt their smashed body parts rain down on him. The whirr and thump of the Terran shock trooper’s mechanical feet stomping through the room was nothing that could be called human, yet inside that armored figure, behind those non-stop automatic cannons, was an actual human being driving his three-meter tall, powered exoskeleton.

It was a human who consciously slaughtered the hundreds of people trapped there.

He stayed down, half-buried in gore, until the last echo of the shock trooper had faded. In the awful silence that followed, he slowly raised his head and looked around. The sight that greeted his eyes was unspeakable, and he vomited before he could even rise to his knees.

Two or three other militiamen were stirring in the carnage. Forcing himself to move, he clambered over the bodies to help them to their feet. Those few survivors wordlessly made their way through the broken wall and gaggled together outside.

Three military transports had arrived, but they had been smashed by the shock trooper attack. Splattered remains of human bodies were littered around in the shadows, but as the minutes passed more and more survivors emerged from the darkness into which they had fled.