In Her Name: The Last War (116 page)

It took her a moment to realize that rather than the regulation gloss black shoes, he was wearing calf-high black leather boots that made a clinking sound with each step. She nearly guffawed when she saw that he was wearing riding spurs, as if he was expecting to go and hop onto a horse as soon as the briefing was over. He also wore a saber strapped to the gold belt of his uniform. And his cap, which was held by an aide sitting behind him, wasn’t the regulation cap of the Confederation Marines, but was a wide-brim black hat with gold braid around it and an insignia with crossed sabers at the front.

She couldn’t suppress a smile, thinking that while he was clearly out of regulation, the unusual attire seemed to suit him perfectly. 

Her smile quickly faded as she realized that while the man might be a bit of a theatrical dandy, he was one of the few survivors of the disastrous defense that had been mounted against the enemy at Keran, the first world that had been attacked. She had read the full report of the battle, and Sparks had acquitted himself well. Like Sato, he was a leader of warriors. Also like the much younger commodore, Sparks had been rapidly promoted to flag rank. 

“Ma’am,” he began without preamble in a heavy drawl from the American South, looking at some hand-written notes on crumpled paper he’d taken from a pocket inside his uniform, “we’ve allocated three full divisions, each with roughly eighteen thousand Marines, to conduct the ground campaign. We’ll be using the most advanced weapons and systems we have available, but we’re also going into this battle prepared to lose them.”

McKenna frowned. “I’m not sure I understand that, general.”

“Ma’am, it’s because of the Kreelans’ ability to selectively defeat our technology. This has had a huge impact on how we wage war. It’s hard to emphasize just how much. And weapons and sensors aren’t the only things the enemy has meddled with. They do the same thing to the command, control, and communications systems that we normally rely on. I’ve read reports of some combat units having to resort to voice communications over radio using equipment that they’ve had to cobble together in the field, because their normal comm systems and data-links inexplicably die on them. The Kreelans don’t seem to have a problem with us using radio.”

“Radio?” Navarre didn’t try to conceal his amazement. “But that technology is, well, practically ancient!”

“Yes, sir,” Sparks told him, “it is. But I believe in using what works. We haven’t had any reports of the Kreelans jamming or disrupting radio where it’s been put into use, so I’ve had radio equipment retrofitted on all of our vehicles and infantry gear.”

“We have also installed radio equipment in the ships and assault boats so they can communicate with the ground forces in case our primary systems go down,” Tiernan added. “The Kreelans sometimes still let us use the data link systems, but most of the time they limit us to voicecomm in the fleet. It seems to depend on their mood.”

McKenna shook her head in dread and wonder. She’d been briefed on this before, and knew that the best and brightest minds of humanity were trying to figure out how the Kreelans were interfering with the technology that humanity had long taken for granted. But so far there was no news. It was as if the Kreelans were using magic. “Go on, general.”

“Our units will be deployed based on the intelligence information we receive from the forward recon teams once the fleet jumps in.” Drawing his saber (which caused some momentary consternation among the presidential protective detail) he used it as a pointer, jabbing the tip at illuminated areas of the wall display, which now showed a map of the main continent. “We believe these will be the most likely areas, as they hold the greatest population concentrations, and we’ll deploy units tailored to the size of each threat. We can drop a single battalion or a whole division in any given area, depending on the situation, with the assault boats providing close air support unless we need to call on the Navy for heavier firepower.” 

Sparks looked over the attendees, his eyes focusing on each face in turn before he locked eyes with the President. “We’re going to kick their asses, ma’am. That’s all I have.”

With that, Sparks sheathed his saber and left the podium, his spurs making a ching-ching-ching sound with every step until he sat back down.

Tiernan turned to the president from his seat at the table. “After we’ve destroyed the Kreelan ground forces, transports will bring in defensive equipment and support personnel that will make it very expensive for the Kreelans to try and come back to Alger’s World any time soon. We’re hoping to give them such a bloody nose in this operation that they won’t want to try.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to just evacuate?” Everyone turned to Secretary of Industry Johann Thurmond, whose question had several others around the room nodding their agreement. 

“It’s going to be a huge additional burden on the fleet and the Territorial Army to fortify Alger’s World to the point where they might stand a chance against another attack.” With a look toward Voroshilov, he added, “Its population is much smaller than many of the other colonies. We should consolidate so we can better concentrate our forces.”

Tiernan opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t get the chance.

“No.” McKenna hadn’t raised her voice, but that single word echoed through the room like a gunshot. “No. The Kreelans have already taken too much from us. Eighteen worlds are under siege and millions have already died, with more dying every day. We’re not going to give them anything without a fight, and we’re going to take back everything we can. We’re also going to rapidly build up the survey arm of the fleet so we can find more habitable worlds and establish more colonies. We need to expand our presence in the galaxy, not withdraw, because every time we do that we move one step closer to extinction.”

McKenna looked around the room at her cabinet members and the other attendees, her eyes cold and hard. “We’ll fight them on every planet, give up nothing that we aren’t forced to, and kill every last one of them if we must to achieve victory.” 

The president turned to Tiernan. “The operation is a go, admiral.”

* * *

“Madam President?” Stephanie Guillaume-Sato, President McKenna’s press secretary, stood at the door to McKenna’s office. 

“Steph!” McKenna looked up from the pad on her desk where she’d been making notes for an upcoming speech. “Please, come in.”

Closing the door behind her, Steph crossed the office’s dark blue rug to stand in front of McKenna’s mahogany desk. The wall behind the president was armor glass that looked out over the Hudson River from where the Presidential Complex stood on Governors Island. From where Steph was standing, the Statue of Liberty was just behind the president. It was an image captured more than once by the president’s official media artist.

“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”

“Yes, I did, Steph. Please, sit down.” McKenna gestured to one of the armchairs in front of her desk, and Steph sat down. “You read the briefing on the Alger’s World operation, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Madam President, I went through the entire briefing.” Steph suppressed a rush of guilt. She should have attended, but had been on an assignment on the west coast and had been delayed by a foulup in her transportation arrangements, a foulup she had purposely engineered. The truth was that she had known Ichiro was going to be at the briefing, and she hadn’t wanted to see him.
Not exactly
, she amended to herself.
He wouldn’t want to see me
. “And let me apologize once again for not making it. It won’t happen again.”

McKenna waved the apology away. “I’m sure it won’t.” 

Looking into the president’s eyes, Steph could tell that McKenna knew the truth. It wasn’t any secret that Steph and Ichiro had parted company a few months before, and Steph was ashamed that she had let her personal situation interfere with her job.

“Yes, ma’am.” She dropped her gaze.

McKenna paused a moment before asking, “Steph, are you tired of this job?”

Looking back up at her boss, Steph said, “Tired of it? No. No, of course not.”

A glint of anger flared in McKenna’s eyes. “Don’t tell me two lies in a row.”

“Madam President…” Steph was momentarily at a loss for words. She had loved the job as press secretary for most of the two years that she’d held it, but McKenna was right. It had become a grind, a chore. More and more, Steph was just going through the motions, and she’d been growing increasingly restless. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I…I don’t want you to think I’m disloyal. You gave me an incredible opportunity, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate what you did for me by giving me this position. But if you put it like that, then yes, I’m getting tired of it.”

“Good.” McKenna sat back and smiled, enjoying the confused mix of emotions on Steph’s face. “Because I have a job that I think is right up your alley.” She leaned forward, completely serious now. “Steph, you know as well or better than anyone else how the Confederation is faring. So you know just how fragile things are now.”

Steph nodded. “If the Kreelans breathe hard against one more planet, the Confederation is finished.” While the members of the president’s cabinet had access to channels of information that Steph didn’t, no one in McKenna’s entire administration had a better handle on the pulse of the Confederation’s citizenry than Steph. She was plugged into every news service for every human-settled world that was part of the interstellar courier network. She had seen how the political landscape had transformed from one of hope and optimism in the aftermath of the Confederation’s formation to weariness as the war dragged on, and near-hysteria after the latest round of Kreelan invasions. “If we don’t pull a rabbit out of the hat,” she told McKenna, “the only thing we’ll have left is what we started with, Earth and the Francophone Alliance.”

“That’s right. That’s why this operation is so important. And that’s why I want someone in on it from the start to document what I hope and pray will be our first decisive victory.”

Stunned, Steph sat there for a moment. Her mind suddenly filled with the nightmare images of the Battle of Keran, where she had been an embedded journalist with the 7
^th
Cavalry Regiment. She was incredibly lucky to have survived. 

At the same time, she felt her pulse quicken, not in fear, but anticipation. She also realized that it wouldn’t have been long before she would have resigned her position to return to being a journalist in the field. That was her passion, and she was one of a very few journalists who had not only survived, but had helped fight. 

“I want to be clear,” McKenna went on, “that this is strictly a volunteer assignment. There will be other journalists going in with the main force, but I’ve given a lot of thought to something I hadn’t considered earlier. I want someone to tell the story from the very beginning of the operation, which means going in with one of the reconnaissance teams and documenting what they find. There aren’t many people who could do that, and I wanted to give you first crack at it.”

Steph didn’t have to think about her answer. “When do I leave?”

McKenna pressed a control on her desktop pad. Five seconds later a Marine staff sergeant opened the door and stood at attention beside it. “The courier’s waiting for you. It’s the one taking the execution orders to the teams. I’ve already ordered your field equipment and travel bag loaded on the shuttle you’ll be taking up to Africa Station. You just have to decide which team you want to go with.”

That was another easy answer. Steph had studied the operations files long before the briefing and had seen some familiar names. “I’ll go with the team led by First Sergeant Roland Mills.”

“Done. Now get going, and good luck.” McKenna stood and offered her hand.

“Thank you, ma’am!” Steph stood up and shook the president’s hand, then turned to go.

As she boarded the shuttle on the roof of the complex, she thought about contacting Ichiro to let him know, but decided against it.
He went his own way
, she told herself.
I don’t care if he knows
.

It was the third lie she’d told that day.

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

Ku’ar-Marekh strode toward what had been the open center of the human town. She could not abide what passed for human architecture, where all the structures were square and blocky, bereft of the pleasing curves inherent in all the works of Her Children and the graceful script of the New Tongue. While she knew that she should be hoping that the One would be found soon, she could not help wishing the humans gone from the universe. They were unsightly creatures, whose ugliness was reflected in all they made. 

Her warriors were building the first
Kalai-Il
to be erected on this world, making the first step in reshaping the planet for the pleasure of the Empress. 

A massive stone edifice, the
Kalai-Il
comprised a large central dais surrounded by two rings of stone pillars that supported enormous capstones. It was central to Kreelan society, and was a place of atonement for those who had fallen from Her grace. Rarely was it used, for few were the transgressions of the peers severe enough to warrant such punishment. It stood as a reminder to all of the terrible price of dishonor.

She watched as hundreds of warriors labored, hauling the stones from a nearby quarry cut into the rock by the landing ships. Beyond that, no modern machines were used. The
Kalai-Il
was built on every world of the Empire the same way as it had been since before the time of the First Empress, with simple machines of wood and stone, powered by the straining muscles of the warriors who served Her will.

Around the
Kalai-Il
, hundreds more warriors hauled in smaller stones to build the five arenas that tradition demanded for ritual combat. Once they and the
Kalai-Il
were complete, contests between her warriors and the humans would commence, and would continue through all hours of the day and night until no humans remained, or the One had been found.