Renegade (7 page)

Khola smiled. “Bahini, one cannot fight in a war such as this and not expect sleepless nights and peaceless meditations. If our paths were easy, we would not need to meditate at all.”

“I saw the combat reports of the Moana Junction action,” said Major Kriti. She was tall and lean, hair trimmed short like Trace… fifteen years older, she’d said. That would make her forty-seven. “That was some impressive fighting. Paralim Station is a monster, you took it with minimal damage or losses.”

“That station was defendable,” Trace said sombrely. “If the tavalai had been prepared to booby trap it properly, and lose parts of it to save the whole. They were not. It was an important facility for them, and they do not like to destroy what they have built.”

“I once saw an infantry squad of tavalai die to defend a temple,” Naldo agreed. “I suppose they did not mean to die, I think they thought they could defend it successfully. But they did not realise we were marines on the ground, not army. And they did not retreat once they realised their mistake.”

“It is easier fighting sard,” said Trace. “Against sard, one is certain. Against tavalai…” she took a deep breath. “Well. One regrets. Too much, I think.”

“Never forget that tavalai chose the sard for their allies,” Khola cautioned. “Cultivated them in fact, for many, many centuries, to do all their dirty work. The sard have earned their reputation well, and every time it was a tavalai hand holding their leash.”

Trace nodded reluctantly. “As you say.”

“Now tell us about your Captain’s predicament,” said Khola. “We will see what is to be done.”

Trace told them. That she’d been specifically ordered not to talk about it barely occurred to her. She was Kulina, and these were her people — the elite club within the elite club of marine officers. Theoretically she could have been court-martialled herself for this breach, but if Command were going to start disciplining Kulina for behaving like family, then Kulina everywhere would resent it. For Fleet, that was not a happy prospect. When Trace had finished, all three of her visitors looked concerned.

“And you are certain that Captain Pantillo did nothing wrong?” Major Kriti pressed in the lengthening silence. At Trace’s back, the sun was setting, turning the ocean sky orange and red.

Trace felt anger, and emotional certainty, and forced it down. To seek peace was to seek objectivity. She could not allow her attachments to rule her. “I’m a marine commander,” she said. “Space warfare is not my speciality. If the Captain’s accuser is another spacer captain, I would be unlikely to prove a good witness for the defence, as my expertise is infantry combat in space facilities.

“However, I didn’t see the Captain do anything wrong. On the contrary, I thought his action was exemplary, and contributed greatly to our victory.”

“Do you consider it possible that another captain may have misinterpreted?” asked Khola.

“Yes.” Trace nodded. “As I said, we left the battle. Tavalai reinforcements were massing at Dhuvo. If they’d been allowed to gather unmolested, we’d have been flanked, and taken heavy casualties. Captain Pantillo broke them up before they could hit us. It was unconventional, but that is his style. He’s done the same thing a hundred times before, and been commended for it. Now this.”

She could not keep the anger and frustration from her voice. It was an effort just to hold her pose on the footstand. Small muscles tensed and twinged, that should have been calm.

“This is troubling,” Khola admitted. “But misunderstandings do occur in battle. To presume that it is corruption seems a stretch, despite the Lieutenant Commander’s concerns.”

“Colonel,” said Trace, attempting patience. “Let me be blunt. Command’s actions regarding Captain Pantillo have been unjust. The offer of promotion to the Lieutenant Commander just that morning was highly improper, and beyond suspicious under the circumstances. Now it appears the Captain is even being denied due process, despite all his service to the human cause.”

“Major.” Colonel Khola held up his hands, calming. “The process has only just begun. Fleet makes mistakes, it’s a big organisation and often a flawed one, run by flawed human beings. Let us await an outcome before judging this or that.”

“We must assist the Captain in getting a fair hearing,” Trace insisted. “He’s certainly not getting one now.”

“I’m not sure that’s yet been established,” Major Kriti cautioned.

“They won’t even tell us what he’s charged with!” Trace retorted. “It’s unheard of, our JAG Captain Sudip says that in every preceding case with a court-martial of this rank and magnitude, they’ve always declared the charge so that the defence could prepare.”

“Major,” Khola said calmly. “Major you are upset.”

“Yes I am,” Trace said shortly. She swallowed hard. It would not do to lose her cool completely, and show her comrades just how far her control had slipped. The Captain had entrusted her with things that he had not entrusted to others. She could not let him down. “I owe that man. All humanity owes that man, whether we are aware of it or not.”

“Major the Kulina exist to serve,” said Khola. “Our founders made a decision, a thousand years ago, that humanity required selfless sacrifice to survive. We are the embodiment of that sacrifice. We do not fight for blood lust or revenge, we do not thrill in the kill, we do not seek glory and remembrance. Our lives have meaning only in that they are currency, to be spent in the service of all humanity.

“Now we all gave that oath, and we gave it to Fleet. We knew Fleet’s imperfections when we gave it. Fleet has done far worse than accuse an innocent man before, Fleet has made a mess of assaults, has let complacency and poor judgement lead to the deaths of… well, of millions, depending on the incident. Yet our oath stands, Major, because Fleet is all humanity has.”

“Will you assist me to get him a fair trial?” Trace asked, attempting calm. “The Kulina are influential.”

“Captain Pantillo is not Kulina. We use our influence with High Command sparingly.”

“And we would deny a warrior as worthy as Captain Pantillo our assistance, because he does not hold membership of our club?” Trace retorted. “Colonel Khola, this sounds like Kulina ego.”

“It is pragmatism,” Khola said calmly. “Ego is that we intervene at all. Pragmatism says we do so very sparingly.”

“We spend of ourselves as the need of humanity requires,” Trace insisted, her voice hardening. “That is what I was taught. That is true peace, to place aside personal need to do what is necessary for the whole.”

“Even Captain Pantillo is not the whole. He is just one man. Fleet is the whole.”

“And Fleet without Captain Pantillo would still be another five years at war. You know it, and I know it. He won us several battles just that important, single-handedly. He saved us that many years of war. How many lives must a man save before the Kulina will bend a single precious rule to help him? And what is this stubbornness if not pride?”

Colonel Khola took a deep breath, and glanced at the Majors. Their looks were guarded. “I will have a word with High Command,” he said finally. “I will express our concern, and our interest to see that the Captain is treated fairly. More than that, I cannot do.”

E
rik’s morning
run was a little odd with Lieutenant Dale and six security guys, two in a groundcar, the other four in pairs ahead and behind. Erik had protested, but they were under orders from ‘the boss’, who was off at some meeting and currently unreachable. Happily he wasn’t breathing any harder than the Lieutenant when they returned, and settled into breakfast after a shower and a change into uniform. Dale protested that he’d eaten, but Erik made it a non-negotiable offer.

No doubt Dale thought he’d be uncomfortable at the Debogande breakfast table, but was astonished to find the long dining table a less formal affair, with family working at the table, talking across each other and the food that waiters brought from the kitchen. He was most astonished to find the security they’d just been jogging with already changed and eating, while watching the news screen and talking together about the day’s schedule. He’d expected the rich folk to eat alone, obviously, but the Debogande household functioned as a single, working entity, at Alice’s insistence.

“It’s the Debogande way,” Erik explained to Dale as he took some cold meats, eggs and a smoothie brought for him, dodging a noisy niece and nephew scampering past his legs. “Organised chaos.”

“Can see why you like Fleet then,” Dale admitted, forcing a smile and a nod at various Debogande sisters who greeted him.

“Well something’s changed,” said Deirdre, coming to give Erik a morning kiss on the cheek, coffee mug in hand. She nodded at the news screen. The feed showed Captain Pantillo, and a choice of various ongoing discussions about his arrest and impending court-martial. It had been going since last evening. Apparently all of Homeworld knew, and Fleet weren’t arresting anyone for talking about it. Yet.

“They saying anything new?” Erik asked around a mouthful, not bothering to sit. Seats at a family breakfast were always optional, everyone preparing their affairs for the day.

“The usual, the charges are dereliction of duty and disobeying orders, that hasn’t changed. There’s not a heck of a lot of speculation, everyone’s being very careful.”

“Not on the underground nets they’re not,” Lisbeth added from her seat, looking up from her screen schedule. She still wore her bathrobe, hair tousled and a lot of neck and shoulder bare, Lieutenant Dale pointedly not looking too hard. “They’re saying it’s…”

“Lisbeth,” scolded Cora, “don’t talk about that unpatriotic nonsense in front of the Lieutenant. You’ll embarrass us.”

“I’m quite sure a man who’s been shot at as many times as the Lieutenant isn’t going to be bothered by some stupid news channel,” Lisbeth retorted. Dale smiled and nodded with his mouth full, uncommenting. And stood back in further surprise as some servants came to eat from the standing plates on the table.

“What do you think changed?” Deirdre asked Erik.

“I don’t think they could ever keep it an enforceable secret for more than a day or two,” said Erik. “I mean who are they kidding — court-martial one of the war’s biggest heroes without anyone talking? On Homeworld?”

“Which means they were stalling,” Deirdre said thoughtfully into her coffee mug. “Buying time to set up their case.”

“Stitch up, more likely,” Dale muttered.

“I don’t think that’s all that happened,” Erik added. “I think Major Thakur talked to the Kulina. She said she would.”

Deirdre raised an eyebrow at him. “The Kulina have that much influence with Fleet?”

“Kulina don’t pull weight with anyone,” their father said, entering in a suit and tie, briefcase in hand and accepting with thanks a coffee mug that a servant handed to him. “That’s the remarkable thing with Kulina, they don’t ask anything for themselves, not even a marked grave. Lieutenant.” With a nod to Dale.

“Sir,” said Dale, with what Erik was sure was respect more for his veteran than his civilian status.

“If they’ve intervened on your Captain’s behalf here,” Walker continued, “it’ll be something amazing, the first time I heard of it.”

“Major Thakur can be persuasive,” said Erik.

“How did she win the Liberty Star?” Lisbeth wondered. “I don’t think I heard that one.” Cora glared at her younger sister — it wasn’t an appropriate time to ask, but Lisbeth had that habit of just wondering odd thoughts aloud. Everyone looked at Dale, expecting some discomfort. Instead, Dale put his plate of cold meats aside and got into pub-storytelling-mode.

“Right,” said Dale. “So it’s four years ago, before the Lieutenant Commander’s time. And we hit Toji Station, at Trailak Major, and we gotta hold it because the freighters are incoming and if they don’t have a place to dock, they’re stuck out-system and sitting ducks for the tavalai sweepers jumping short and cutting our resupply to pieces. Tavalai have this damn station booby trapped to the eyeballs, we find out there’s about three times more of them defending the place than intel suggested… all of them hiding.

“Anyhow, long story short — we get aboard on assault shuttles, all hell breaks loose and we get cut up and pinned down. Different units in different parts of the station, we’re supposed to rendezvous in the middle, but now we’re trapped. And Delta Platoon, they’re getting smashed, cut off and pinned against the bulkhead, lots of wounded, can’t move ‘em, can’t get out. And we’re now getting jammed to hell, so we can’t talk, got no idea what each other’s doing — usual situation for us, defenders communicate using hardlines, which we ain’t got.

“And I’m in Alpha Platoon with the Major… and we’re defending our beach head on the docks, we can’t afford to move or we’ll loose it. So the Major, she puts me in charge, and she takes four guys, and she goes to get Delta Platoon. Across half-a-klick of the worst, tavalai infested station corridors you’ve ever seen.

“She’s the only one who gets there alive. Once she reaches Delta, she sees all their wounded, so she tells them to stay and defend them. Then she comes back. Alone. Must’ve killed about thirty froggies on the way, I don’t know how anyone could survive twenty meters on their own in that, let alone five hundred. But she does. Once she’s back we grab a shuttle off the rim, and go and get Delta Platoon from outside, cut through the hull to extract them, right where she said they were. Saved twenty guys. Lost the station, had to pull out, whole thing turned into a giant mess and Fleet lost another three ships in the extraction. I filed the report myself, got everyone to sign it. Two months later, Liberty Star for the Major. Takes a while, with space distances. Captain Pantillo pinned it on her himself.”

There was near silence at the breakfast table, save for the chattering news screen. Even the servants had stopped to listen.

“Wow,” said Lisbeth, wide-eyed. “What an incredible woman.”

“Most incredible part?” Dale continued. “She hates that damn thing. Most miserable I’ve ever seen her, when the Captain pinned it on her. If she could toss it out an airlock, I’m sure she would.”

“Why?” Cora exclaimed. “Isn’t she proud?”

Dale smiled at her crookedly. “You don’t know any Kulina, do you Miss?”

“Pride is ego,” said Walker. “Ego is a barrier to inner peace. She did it because it needed to be done. That’s all.”

Dale nodded at Walker, and raised his coffee mug to him.

“Erik,” said Walker. “You’re going to see your Uncle Thani today?”

Erik nodded. “If there’s leaning to be done, I figure he’s the guy to do it.”

Walker raised an eyebrow. “Just be careful. Don’t lean too hard. Most things this family leans on will bend, and we try not to abuse that. But there are some who actively resent it. They lean back.”

“So Lieutenant Commander,” said Dale around a mouthful. “What does Uncle Thani do?”

“He represents three billion people in Endeavour System and New Dakota, and he heads the Spacer Congress Commerce Committee,” Erik said innocently. “Making him probably the third most powerful politician in all human space. Why do you ask?”

“Ah,” said Dale. “Thani Gialidis. Even a dumb grunt like me’s heard of him.” With a wink at Lisbeth. Lisbeth grinned.

F
amily security took
a second cruiser with Erik and Dale to Spacer Congress. The Congressional complex was in north western Shiwon, tucked in the Jin Valley between hills. Traffic Central queried their flight route on the way in, then Congress security queried their ID as they approached.

The complex grounds were two huge, circular podiums, surrounded by and integrated with a series of gleaming glass towers. Traffic put them in a slow approach amid a number of other incoming vehicles, as suburbs gave way to green gardens and security barriers, and lots of staff and visitors walking the paths below. Dale craned his neck to look up at the towers — the architecture was famous, as were a number of sculpture memorials about the grounds. Odd, many remarked, that the Spacer Congress was not actually located in space… but the administrative requirements were huge, and this many bureaucrats became expensive when air was not free. So much transit to and from the gravity well was even more expensive, given the need to deal with all kinds of ground-dwellers, and even Spacers were forced to admit that permanent gravity had its advantages.

“Ever been here before?” Erik asked Dale.

“Nope,” said Dale.

“It’s pretty cool,” said Erik. “Just watch your wallet.” Being from a frontier world, where cash currency was still used, Dale would know what a wallet was. “I still think it’s odd that Chairmen Ali and Joseph weren’t here for the parades. You know how politicians hate to miss big public events. You’d think the two most powerful politicians in Spacer Congress would make it a point to be here.”

Dale shrugged. “They got home constituencies, yeah? Gotta get home sometime, they’re the ones who vote for them.”

They bounced on a transition zone, rolled to security for a full check inside and out, then into underground parking. As serving Fleet with a ship at dock and a registered appointment, they were allowed to keep their sidearms, as were the security in the second car. The cruiser parked near an elevator, which the marines plus two of the house security took up to podium level, then walked along polished hallways filled with busy staff to a tower elevator.

“How close an uncle is he?” Dale asked, adjusting his tie. Erik thought he looked a little nervous. Humanity had no single President, as such, just a series of committees that ran things like security, finance and commerce, in that order of authority. The heads of those committees were referred to as ‘the leadership’. Thani Gialidis was the Commerce Chair, but was senior on the other two big committees as well. Security Committee was top, of course, and sometimes called the ‘War Council’, as that more correctly described what it did. It was co-chaired by Supreme Commander Chankow. Chairman Ali was the elected co-chair, but no one was going to call him President Ali when Fleet had veto in the form of the Supreme Commander, and Ali did not. Chairman Joseph headed Finance. And with both of them offworld on who-knew-what business, that left Chairman Gialidis as the most senior politician on Homeworld.

“Great great uncle,” Erik admitted. “My mother’s mother’s uncle. He’s a hundred and fifty six, so he’s seen nearly the whole war.”

“So who gets to be a Debogande?” asked Dale. “The family’s been rich a long time, that many generations can’t all live like you. There must be hundreds.”

“Thousands. But thousands can’t inherit the company, that goes to Katerina, the rest of us siblings will squabble for the smaller companies. Various cousins can get jobs if they’re qualified.”

“Damn feudal monarchy,” said Dale. “So much for merit, huh?”

Erik smiled, unbothered by the Lieutenant’s needling. “Sure. Like Fleet Admirals. All the quality gets promoted while under-performers like the Captain tread water.” Dale snorted. “Thing with having lots of money, you can buy education and corporate experience, so the people in these jobs are actually very good. With genetics and augments like they are, you can even buy talent. Just not wisdom.”

“Gotta join Fleet for that.”

“Exactly.”

“Woulda got more if you’d joined marines.”

“Yes, but you only inherit if you’re still alive,” said Erik. A couple of female staff in the hall turned to look at the passing officers with smothered smiles. Erik overheard the phrase ‘officer hotties’, and nodded to the ladies as he entered the tower elevator behind his forward security. They smiled back, and waved suggestively.

“Don’t bother LC,” said Dale as the doors closed. “They weren’t looking at you.”

“I’m pretty sure they were.”

“To tuck into bed with a glass of milk and a bedtime story, maybe.”

Erik gave him an incredulous look. “You know if I’m ever commanding combat ops,
Lieutenant
, and we have to deploy into something hot, you’ll be on point.”

“Hooyah sir.”

The elevator let them out at the top. Staff bustled about, and one came to Erik immediately, and ushered them to a waiting room, with apologies. Ten minutes later some important looking people emerged from the main office. A staffer beckoned to Erik, who stood.

“Lieutenant, come and say hi at least. Pity to make the trip and not get to meet Uncle Thani.” And he further enjoyed Dale’s nervous tie adjustment, jacket adjustment, button and fly check. “Relax. And remember he’s a civilian, you don’t stand to attention.” Because some soldiers forgot.

The office was wide atop the tower, with a glass wall overlooking green hills and surrounding towers in a blaze of tinted sunlight. A dark haired man with a photogenic face broke from a conversation with a staffer to give Erik a beaming smile. “Well well! Lieutenant Commander Debogande!” They embraced. “So good to see you home safely.”

“Good to be home safely, Uncle Thani,” said Erik. They parted, and Erik indicated Dale. “This is Lieutenant Dale, he runs Alpha Platoon under Major Thakur.”

They shook hands. “And what’s life like under the legendary Major Thakur?” Thani asked him.