First Casualty (38 page)

“Yes, sir.” Santiago let go of his arm and retreated, briefcase in hand, to stand beside a sink. Ray closed the door— no lock.
Security everywhere for the President and you can't even lock the bathroom door!

* * * *

“Captain, comm here. We've got a general announcement from the government of Wardhaven due in a minute or so.”

“Helm, open a view on the main screen.” It showed a room full of reporters. Before them, a man in a green uniform spoke. “People of Wardhaven, we will never surrender.”

“That cuts it,” Mattim sighed. Between the government of Wardhaven and Whitebred, there was no middle ground. The
Sheffield
could shoot around the system forever. Sooner or later, a relief fleet would show up to drive them away, and the
Sheffield
was in no shape for a fight. They'd won the bet, but the other side was just thumbing their nose at them.

Bomb us or bugger off.

That wasn't the way it's supposed to be!

The door to the admiral's quarters opened. Whitebred grinned from his cart. “Six hours. Six hours and we show that bastard who's got guts and who doesn't.” The door closed behind him. Whitebred had no problem; bomb them. The problem was Mattim's; if he didn't bomb them, what was he going to do?

Sixteen

His stomach under control, but no less a pain, Ray began to struggle to his feet.

“Let me help you, sir.” Santiago was back, the door pushed aside.

“I can do it myself,” Ray snapped.

“Not today, sir.” Santiago reached down and deftly removed the power supply from Ray's walker.

Ray collapsed back onto the stool. “What?”

“Quiet. Please, sir. We don't want anyone alarmed.” The young officer came to attention, briefcase hanging from his left arm. “Thank you, Major, for giving me this chance. Tell Rita this is my gift to her and the baby. Make the peace worth all we've paid for it.”

Santiago saluted, did a smart about-face, and marched out of Ray's view. Ray tried to get to his feet. Now the walker fought him. He was still trying when the explosion came.

Santiago marched down the corridor. In only a moment, he entered the briefing room. Keeping his cadence perfect, he marched for the table where everyone was gathering.

He felt no fear. If anything, he was elated. Ever since the major had shared the second combination, he had known this moment would come. The fleet orbiting Wardhaven settled any question of necessity for him. Rita's announcement this morning settled who would open the briefcase.

Using the confusion of people finding their seats, Santiago paused across from the President. Two guards immediately turned toward him, guns at the ready. “My President, my Major is indisposed at the moment. His war wound is not healing as quickly as he would wish. He has done a very brief presentation with pictures of the defenders of Wardhaven preparing to destroy the invading Earth scum. May I run it for you?” Santiago rested the briefcase on the table. He'd put the combination in during the stop at the restroom.

“Yes, yes.” The President beamed. “I love to—”Santiago flipped the case open. The President didn't have time to say what he loved.

* * * *

Mattim glanced at the clock. Four hours 'til launch. He gritted his teeth. If he survived this, he'd be buying a new set of caps. At his elbow, his comm link beeped. “Captain, we've intercepted a message. It's confusing, but it sounds like there's been a bombing on Rostock and the President may have been killed or injured.”

“Give me the raw feed,” Mattim snapped.

“Yes sir. Sir, we've got a coded message here from the admiral. He wants it sent to someone on Wardhaven.”

“Wardhaven?” Mattim exchanged a frown with Ding.

“That's right, sir. Someone on our target.”

“If the admiral says send it, send it.” Mattim sighed and began reading the first message. According to it, President Urm could be dead, wounded, or on vacation. Mattim remembered why he rarely bothered reading the general news.

“What do we do?” Ding asked.

* * * *

“What do we do with this mess, sergeant?” Two soldiers looked down at Ray. His gut was suddenly cold steel. Like so many other heroes, Santiago had died for him. Now these guards were about to shoot him rather than look at him.

“Just part of the rest of the mess.” The sergeant eyed Ray. “This one's the visitor. Didn't we hear his wife's waiting in his car? See if you can put a call through. She'll be glad to hear he missed the ...” Both soldiers glanced in the general direction of the great hall.

“How'd someone get by us?” the private asked.

“Sure it wasn't us?”

“But wouldn't the general have gotten us all out?”

“Rats leave the ship, people start thinking it's sinking. Besides, Red and Titra weren't exactly the general's favorites. Hey, you.” The sergeant nudged Ray with the toe of his boot. “Ain't you done yet?” Both snickered.

Maybe Ray wasn't done just yet.

“Isn't he a cripple, or something?” the private asked. “Didn't walk too well when he came in. Metal detectors didn't like him, but the screens only showed what he was supposed to be wearing. Think his braces were bombs?”

“Naw, he's still got them on. Okay, Mister Major, looks like we'll have to take care of you. Hope you don't need your butt wiped, 'cause you ain't getting it by us. Let's take him to the car park. That ought to keep us out of worse details.”

They lifted Ray none too gently. He barely managed to get his pants belted. As they reached the main corridor, they had to pause as a gurney was wheeled by. Medics and guards surrounded it. The front top half of the body was a bleeding pulp, but there was no mistaking the President's space marshal uniform. Santiago had succeeded.

At the limo, they tossed Ray into the back seat.

“This one yours?” they asked the driver.

“Oh, Ray, when I heard the explosion, I thought... I was afraid ...” Rita's tears covered his face.

“Get them out of here. We got bigger problems.”

The driver slowly wound his way past other parked cars, moving security rigs, and arriving emergency vehicles.

They were the only one going out. They might not have made it, but Rita had been memorable on the way in that morning, and now her tears and Ray's condition opened gates that might otherwise have remained closed. Thirty minutes after the explosion, Ray was being settled onto his bed.

Rita reached for the phone. “Give me the captain of the
Oasis
in orbit.”

“Ma'am, calls are restricted to national security issues.”

“This
is
a national security issue. I am Senior Pilot Longknife and I must speak to the captain of my ship.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Captain Rose” came quickly.

“Captain, there has been an explosion at the Presidential palace.”

“How is the President?”

“I do not know.”

“The President is dead.” Ray cut the words hard. “I saw his body. He is dead.”

“The major says he saw the President's body. He is dead.”

“I will send a shuttle for you and the major immediately.”

“Thank you,” Rita said as the line clicked. There were words Ray wanted to say, but they were not for the listening mikes. Rita held him close, painfully tight. Ray began to shake. Once more he and death had brushed elbows. Once more others had done the dying for him. The future had damn well better be worth the lives paid for it.

* * * *

Mattim jumped as his comm unit beeped. “Captain, we've got another message intercepted from Wardhaven's Beta jump gate transmitter. It's in the clear and very explicit. Some major saw the President's body. He's dead.” Mattim eyed the admiral's door. Three hours until launch; the door stayed closed. The marines sat their posts.

“Comm, pass the message to the admiral. Keep me informed of planetary intercepts.” Whitebred might reserve to himself the power to decide what the messages meant to them, but Mattim was damned if he would let himself stay in the dark.

Sooner or later, he would have to make his own decision.

The car, the shuttle, and the yacht were all waiting for them. They broke orbit only minutes before a hold was put on all traffic. The captain scorned his orders back to dock. “My planet is about to fight for its life, and you want to keep me tied safely up at your pier. I'm headed for the fight.”

“We'll shoot,” they threatened.

They didn't.

“We'll never get there in time,” Rita sighed.

“We already have,” Captain Rose assured her.

* * * *

Admiral Whitebred rolled onto the bridge as the clock went to zero. “My ultimatum having expired and the Wardhaven government not having surrendered, you may fire, Captain.”

“With the death of the President, things may be a bit confused,” Mattim observed.

“So you've picked up those rumors. That's all they are, rumors. Probably started by someone to buy time. They have no more time. Launch, Captain.”

A billion people had run out of time, and so had Mattim. Slowly, he studied the bridge crew, the admiral, and his guards. Their guns were pointed out. The younger three looked all too ready to use them. Mattim had played for time, and it had run out. Well, maybe not all of it.
It’s not over until it's over.

“Bomb accelerator, this is the captain.”

“Standing by, sir,” said Commander Gandhi. “I have a bombardment pattern ready. Passing it through to you.”

“Main screen,” Ding ordered. A green globe appeared to the left of the screen, a single dot to the right. Red vector arrows departed the ship. The globe grew as the arrows approached. In a matter of seconds, they covered it with red splotches.

“Very good.” The admiral grinned.

“Commander, begin autoloading bombs now.”

“Say again, sir. Your message is breaking up.”

“Autoload bombs now.”

“Sir, I can't follow you. Static is breaking you up.”

Mattim glanced at Ding. “Comm,” she said, “we're getting a complaint from damage control of static on our line to them.”

“You're coming through five by five to us. Wait one while we check with them.” The pause was hardly long enough to take a breath. “They had no problem talking to us. Sir, I've never had static reported on an internal comm line.”

“You have now. Ding, you have the conn.” Mattim headed his cart for the hatch. Whitebred followed on his bumper.

“OOD, you have the conn.” The exec passed it along and joined the parade. Now it ends, Mattim thought to himself.
Now it all ends—but will it be with a bang or a whimper?

* * * *

Mattim did not give the order to start as he crossed the coaming into the launch bay. He waited until his parade had arranged itself facing launch control.

“Commander Gandhi, you may begin when ready.”

“Beginning autoloading now, sir,” she said immediately. There was a brief pause. “Autoloader is not responding, sir.”

“What?” Whitebred yelled. “What do you mean? It's testing as fully operational. I've reviewed every report. I've ...”

“We've thrown a breaker on the main bus. I got my chief working on it. Just a moment.”

Whitebred was fuming. “This woman is stalling. First she says she can't hear us. Now she says a fully tested and operational weapon system isn't working. She ought to be shot.”

“Just a moment, Admiral.” Mattim interrupted the first time Whitebred paused for breath. “Bridge. Give me a slow count.”

“Yes, s ... on ... tw ... th ...”

“Thank you, bridge.” Mattim turned to Whitebred. “There's something major wrong with the electronics in this bay.”

“But only to the bridge?” Whitebred wasn't buying.

Behind him, Mary studied the ceiling. The sergeant beside her looked around, hunting for someone. Guess sailors weren't the only ones opposing this launch.

“A bit strange, sir,” Mattim agreed, “but this launcher was installed our last yard period and never tested.”

“Hundreds of people have crawled all over it. Maintaining it, you told me.” Red was rising on Whitebred's cheeks.

“Yes, sir,” Mattim agreed. “But without operating it, we can't be sure. This first launch is its test.”

“Captain,” Gandhi interrupted softly, “we've recycled the breaker. It will not hold. We are replacing it. We have a spare standing by, but at three gees it will be risky.”

“Captain,” Whitebred snapped, “get this ship to one gee.”

Mattim so ordered.

“Sir.” Commander Gandhi frowned. “That'll change all my trajectories. Will we be going back to three gees?”

Mattim raised a questioning eyebrow to the admiral. “No,” he snarled. “We will stay at one gee for the launch.” Mattim wondered how many sabots had depended on three gees for the sabotage. At least they could get out of the damn high-gravity carts.

“Sir,” Gandhi said as she stood up, “I'll need access to the ship's full network to redo my calculations.”

Whitebred was distracted as he undid his harness; for once, Mattim was not interrupting. “Bridge, we need all computing power down here.”

“Yes, sir.” A moment later the PA system announced, “Knock off all nonessential net access. Stand by to load priority assignment in thirty seconds.” A minute later, the computer was happily chewing on the new trajectories.

Five minutes later all lighting went off on the left side of the launch bay. “What?” Whitebred squawked.

“Engineering,” Mattim said.

“Ivan here. We just cut power to number three main so they could pull a breaker. Is that a problem?” he asked innocently.

“No problem,” Mattim assured him. Whitebred relaxed.

“Bridge here,” blared from the PA. “We have a problem.”

“Captain here. Yes?” Mattim said as Whitebred turned to face him.

“We just lost power to a third of the distributed network,” they informed Mattim and the entire crew. “That crashed the project we had running. We tried a restart, but it's corrupted. We're purging it and will restart as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” Mattim answered evenly.

“What's going on? This is sabotage!” Whitebred yelled.