Virtues of War (7 page)

He strode inside, Olivia unresisting in his arms. The stairs to the basement were only seconds away and he pounded down them into the relative safety of the dug-out, foundation-reinforced space. Rupa was close behind him, depositing Jess in the soft, teddy bear chair before wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Where are you going?”

He kissed Olivia and placed her in a chair next to her favorite doll-house table.

“I have to get to the local militia barracks.”

“No! God, no!” Rupa’s tears flowed freely. “Stay with us.”

There wasn’t time for sentiment. The Terrans were coming.

“I have to, you know that,” he said. “But the robotic army already will be deploying, so I’ll just be guarding the command posts. The machines will take them down.”

Rupa cringed visibly at the mention of Centauri’s own war machines, those nightmare robotic beasts that supposedly made war more “humane.” Before his wife could recover her wits, Kete crouched down and gave Olivia a hug and a kiss.

“Daddy has to go and see what’s happening, but you stay down here with Mummy. Okay?” The girl was too stunned to reply. Kete immediately moved to embrace the younger Jess. “It’s too noisy upstairs right now, so you stay here with Mummy and Olivia, okay?”

Jess nodded dumbly, automatically throwing her arms around him in a hug. He held her tight for a long, sweet moment, then rose to kiss his wife. There were no more words either of them could say. She tried to smile. He kissed her again and, with one last look at his entire world, raced back up the stairs.

* * *

He blinked in the darkness of his Terran apartment, fighting down the nightmare. The room was flooded with shadow.

Pulling himself up from the chair, he stumbled through to the kitchen for some water. He hated losing control of his mind, hated the need of his grief to relive that terrifying, terrible night back in Centauria. He clung to the images of Rupa, Olivia, and Jess. It was for them he had come here. For them he would happily risk everything he had left to bring down the Terran State.

As he gratefully sipped at a glass of cool water, he refocused his mind on the mission. This was a war of civilizations, a war Centauria was determined to wage for the sake of all humankind. The first part of this war had foolishly been fought on Terra’s terms. The next part would be on Centauria’s and—

The glass slipped from his hand, clunking against the counter and spilling forth its contents. The Astral Force officer Chuck had interviewed this evening. Kete hadn’t recognized her through the long hair and different clothes, but he had seen her before.

The angel of death had a name.

Lieutenant Katja Emmes.

The concussion knocked Katja to her knees. Ears ringing, she frantically grabbed for her assault rifle. Through blurred vision she assessed the jumble of movements to her left as a crowd of charging civilians.

“Get back!” she screamed, blindly pointing her rifle at them.

The mob surged forward. She struggled to her feet, firing warning shots into the group. Single bodies burst open as the exploding rounds impacted, but the mass of rebellious colonists closed relentlessly. Her vision cleared, and she saw the hatred in their eyes. But she felt no fear—only pity. She knew what was coming next.

Like orange meteors, the orbital bombardment shells struck down, obliterating the street and vaporizing the crowd. Katja tried to run, but her legs were leaden. The bombardment continued, blasts raining ever closer. She forced her legs to move, and with agonizing slowness she backed away from the onslaught, but not fast enough.

Never fast enough.

The last orbital blast struck the ground in front of her. A wall of super-heated air slammed her backward into the darkness. She didn’t know if her scream was out loud or not. There was no echo off the walls.

* * *

She paused, feeling soft, cushioned fabric against her cheek. The dazzling light hadn’t faded, but was suddenly more yellow, more real. She winced against the brightness, and exhaled deeply at the pounding in her head.

Slowly, slowly, the nightmare images faded from her mind. Dead civilians. Smashed machinery. Orbital bombardment.

With effort, she pushed herself to a sitting position on the couch, holding up a hand to block the glare from the broad window across from her. Eyes down, she saw that she was still wearing her polished black shoes and dress pants from the gala. Her tunic lay heaped on the floor by the armchair. At first glance nothing looked ruined, she assessed with relief.

Her gaze rose further, taking in the room. Comfortable but less-than-stylish furniture formed a seating area.

Adjacent kitchen with breakfast bar.

Two closed doors leading to bedroom and bathroom.

A beautiful view of Longreach through the giant window. Private officer quarters at the surface component of Astral Base One.

She sighed.

The bedroom door opened to reveal Merje tying the belt of the standard-issue bathrobe that had no doubt been supplied with the suite. Her long, blonde hair was twisted grotesquely by a combination of product and restless sleep, but her eyes were bright with concern.

“You okay?”

Katja nodded slightly. Apparently her scream hadn’t been just part of the dream. She blinked again to shake off the last of the images, not wanting to think of how many times she’d seen them in the night. She pulled free the hair that was sticking to her cheek and rose with a long, deep breath.

Merje crossed to the window and gazed outward.

“Beautiful city you have here,” she said. “Wish I could stay.”

Katja shuffled over to join her. The sun was already overhead in the cloudless sky, pouring its heat and glare down on the curving skyline of Earth’s first spaceport. The vast, artificial reservoir—rather unimaginatively named by the State as Lake Sapphire—was a deep-blue centerpiece among the red architecture, with lines of green marking the pedestrian thoroughfares in the central core. In the distance, the city gave way to the stark beauty of the Australian Outback, but here in the well-to-do Astral quarter, residents could enjoy all the comforts of a modern metropolis.

Most of the local State buildings were here, and to Katja’s right the scene was dominated by the six, perfectly straight military elevator lines that stretched upward two thousand kilometers to the orbiting behemoth known as Astral Base One. Their presence helped make Longreach the planet’s center of commerce, and most of the Earth’s corporations and banking entities maintained their headquarters within the city complex. Behind her rested the sweeping grounds of the Astral College. It was her alma mater, and had been home for four years.

Her eyes protested against the sunlight and she dragged herself over to one of the raised chairs at the breakfast bar.

“What time is it?”

“About lunchtime,” Merje said, passing her on the way to the fridge. “Does the Fleet stock your room with food too?”

An open, empty fridge offered a silent reply, and Katja looked to the appliances on the counter.

“There’s coffee,” she said. “Make me some too.”

She rubbed her eyes slowly, listening to the quiet clicks and whirrs as Merje operated the coffee machine. Moments later she breathed in the deep, comforting aroma of a fresh cup and smiled as Merje handed it to her.

“You know,” Merje said, partly hiding her wry expression behind her mug as she sipped her own coffee, “I think we would have done better last night if you hadn’t knocked that guy on his ass.”

Katja frowned, then recalled the pair of teachers—at least, that was their story—who had been very generous with drinks at the club to which Merje had dragged her. They’d been fairly cute, she recalled, and not particularly boorish, and she remembered appreciating the flattering attention of a man. Why
had
she straight-armed him right off his chair?

“At least now I can tell all the folks back at the firm that I’ve had a gun pointed at me.” Merje leaned up against the counter across from her, wry smile still in place. “But for next time, I’m happy to stay the nerd. You’re the scary one, remember?”

Katja was still puzzling over why she’d hit the man. “They were just stun guns,” she said absently, “every bouncer has one.”

“I know what they are. I’ve just never had one pointed at me before.”

“Did those two guys get kicked out as well?”

“Nope. Just us, honey. We are so bad-ass.”

Katja chewed her lip in thought. “So the guy didn’t provoke me?”

“Not that I saw. I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Her mind was a complete blank. “I don’t know.”

Merje straightened and rounded the counter, heading for the armchair and activating the TV wall. Katja turned in her seat, trying to guess her sister’s mood as the familiar chatter of the 24-hour news network softly filled the room, but her hung-over brain still struggled.

Why had she hit a complete stranger?

“Up until then,” Merje said, “it was quite a pleasant evening. I even liked the gala. The Fleet sure puts on a good spread.”

Annoyance flickered through her. Everyone was calling the Astral Force “the Fleet” these days, as if the vacuum-heads were the only thing that mattered. It was the Corps that had invaded the Centauri homeworld, troopers like her who had carved the name Expeditionary Force 15 into the history books. But as she watched the images drift by on the TV screen, shot after shot highlighted Fleet warships patrolling majestically in low orbit.

Apparently the newly minted Admiral Chandler was giving yet another interview, no doubt drinking in the honors showered upon him as a hero of the war. Katja had yet to see a single mention of those who had been at the bloody end of the business in the attack on Abeona. If anything, the Corps had done more than the Fleet to safeguard Terran interests, but the media loved those big, shiny ships…

“And there was plenty of talent, too,” Merje was saying. “Your boys scrub up nice in their uniforms.” She reached over and grabbed Katja’s abandoned tunic, tossing it up onto the couch. “Especially that yummy biscuit you were talking to so intimately. Who was that guy, the one you dashed off with right after our interview?”

Katja’s cheeks flushed, and blood pounded in her ears. Suddenly everything fell into place. That guy at the club had made a comment about returning war veterans, and how they were getting all kinds of extra privileges for not having done much.

“Thomas Kane,” she muttered. “He was my CO, and he’s doing pretty well for himself.” Like getting married into the plutocracy, and getting some cushy job on his rise to the top. And getting
married
.
Damn you, you bastard
.

Merje sipped her coffee. “Hmm.” Katja glanced up. Her sister was watching her with a carefully neutral expression, soft eyes probing.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Merje shook her head and smiled. “Good for him.”

Katja dropped her gaze, annoyed that her cheeks still burned. Merje was too perceptive sometimes. She flicked the hair out of her face again and downed her coffee.

“I’m going to have a shower.”

Merje nodded absently, eyes on the news. “How much longer can I crash here?”

“I’m on leave for five more days.” She wondered how much more “fun” she could endure before donning her uniform once again. “They’ll kick you out of here when I head back to my post.”

“Maybe I’ll just find myself a cute Fleet boy, and stay longer.”

Katja wondered who would be more at risk—Merje or the Astral Force.

Toothpaste, soap, and extended hot water combined to liberate Katja from most of her headache and general crappiness. When she re-emerged into the sunshine of the living room, wearing the brightly patterned sundress she’d bought on a whim yesterday, she almost felt ready to smile.

Merje was still watching the news, but her upright position, forward in the chair, indicated more than a passing interest.

“They were just talking about the Astral trial we were handling,” she said without taking her eyes off the screen. “The firm is getting some amazing publicity over this.”

Any thoughts of smiling disappeared. Katja fought down new anger.

“So what part did you play in that, exactly?”

“I did a lot of the research, and I helped prep the defendant for being on the stand.”

Merje hadn’t personally defended that mutineer, Katja reminded herself. She supposed that made it
somewhat
better.

“But there’s still all this chatter on the networks about the violence coming to Terra one day,” Merje muttered. “Why can’t people just accept that there was no actual war, and that it’s over?”

“What do you mean there was no war?”

“It was a police action, right? Some colonists rebelled and you brave servants of Terra sorted them out.”

Katja felt the sudden need to put some space between herself and her sister.

“I’m heading down to the cafeteria,” she said abruptly. “You want anything?”

“Just bring me back some fruit or something.” Suddenly Merje turned. “Oh, and can you bring me back yesterday evening where I
don’t
get a gun pointed at me?” Her smile had that slight edge to it Katja had learned to back away from.

The corridor outside was open to the dry, warm air, and offered a spectacular view across the irrigated playing fields toward the Astral College buildings. A mixture of dark, solar-glass and local red stone, the main buildings sat at the top of a gentle rise looking every bit the elite scholastic institution. Smaller buildings on the far side of the playing fields housed the shooting ranges, and down near the shores of Lake Sapphire were the stubby boat sheds.

Katja took a moment to drink it in, the dusty smell of the Outback conjuring memories of the simpler, happier times of her cadet years. Then she dismissed the notion and walked with purpose toward the elevator. Her college years had been neither simple nor happy—they just seemed so in comparison to life today.

A swift ride down and she found herself strolling into the large, economically furnished dining hall made available to all residents in her building. The lunchtime rush was waning, but most of the tables were still occupied by junior officers from both Fleet and Corps. Many were in uniform, and Katja wondered for a moment if she was breaking some new regulation by dining in her bright, summery outfit. A few patrons were clustered in amiable groups, but most dined alone, hardly glancing up at those forced to share their table. Most were transients like her, she knew, but some poor sods found themselves living here for months while on a course or while waiting for their ship to return.