Retreat Hell (20 page)

“I was searched twice,” Gudrun said, somehow.  Her voice shook as she spoke.  “I couldn't hide anything.”

“Good to hear it,” the woman said.  She stepped forward, then ran her hands down Gudrun’s body, paying particular attention to her pockets.  “Sit down.”

Gudrun sat.  A moment later, she felt something hard pressed against her neck.  There was a hissing sound, a stab of pain, then her thoughts just seemed to drift away into the ether.  It was hard, so hard, to focus her mind ... ahead of her, she heard a booming voice.  Somehow, it seemed to be the most important thing in the universe.

“Tell me your name,” it said. 

“Gudrun,” Gudrun said.  A funny feeling overcame her for a second, a feeling that suggested that perhaps she shouldn't be answering questions.  But it faded rapidly and was gone.  “My name is Gudrun.”

“Very good,” the voice cooed.  Gudrun felt a rush of almost sexual pleasure, washing away her doubts.  “And what were you doing when you were captured?”

The questions continued, one by one, until she had quite lost track of herself.  When she finally reopened her eyes, she discovered that she’d fallen asleep.  Her memories were hazy and confused ... and, she discovered when she tried to move, her hands had been cuffed again while her ankles had been shackled.  What had happened?

“You were injected with a basic truth drug,” the woman said.  Oddly, the haze still affecting Gudrun’s thoughts made her want to trust the woman.  “You sang like a canary.”

Gudrun cringed.  “I didn't ...”

“You did,” the woman told her.  “I can show you recordings, if you like.  We know everything you know, from your cell leader to your RV point for extraction.  I dare say we will make good use of it.”

Gudrun barely heard herself moan.  She was dead.  Whatever happened, she was dead.  If she went to a detention camp as a young female insurgent, she would be molested by the guards – and murdered by the other prisoners, if they found out she’d betrayed them.  And if the movement found out that she'd confessed everything, they’d kill her if she fell into their hands.  She'd steeled herself to resist torture, to keep her mouth shut even if they flogged her to within an inch of her life, but the drug had just undermined her will completely.  There had been no way to resist it.

“We have an offer for you,” the woman said.  “You may be able to do us a service.  If so, we will provide transport off-world for you and your family at the end of the war.  But it will require some willing collaboration.”

She shrugged, meaningfully.  “There’s no shame in falling to the drugs,” she added.  “I’ve seen strong men steel themselves to resist, only to start blabbing as soon as the drug gets into their bloodstream.  You could go to a camp, if you liked.”

“But I’ll be killed,” Gudrun wailed.  “They’ll kill me.”

“Your choice,” the woman said.  “Work with us, Gudrun, and you can survive.  Your family can survive.  Or go into a camp and take your chances.”

She paused.  “We won’t tell anyone you talked,” she added.  “We can do that much for you, at least.”

It was the act of kindness, more than anything else, that broke Gudrun completely.  She was being manipulated, she recognised, her thoughts still – perhaps – influenced by the drug, but there was no alternative.  She’d been drugged to spill everything she knew, yet now ... now she was making the decision to betray her side completely. 

“I’ll join you,” she said.

“Splendid,” the woman said.  She helped Gudrun to her feet.  “I’ll have better quarters prepared for you ASAP.”

It was hard, Gudrun discovered, to walk while her feet was shackled.  Oddly, concentrating on walking made it easier to forget what she'd done ... and what she was going to do.  But when she finally reached her new apartment, the thoughts came back full force.

What had she done?

For example, the food distribution was originally placed in the hands of Empire-backed power centres.  These ranged from officials appointed directly by the Empire’s representatives to outright warlords.  Unsurprisingly, they tended to distribute the food in a manner calculated to benefit themselves. 

-
Professor Leo Caesius. 
War in a time of ‘Peace:’ The Empire’s Forgotten Military History.

“Jasmine will be on Thule by now,” Gwendolyn said.

Ed nodded as they walked into the waiting room.  The hearing had lasted two weeks, with almost every officer remaining on Avalon called to testify, some multiple times.  Ed couldn't decide if Councillor Travis was desperate to dig up something – anything – to justify the amount of time and effort spent on the hearing.  By now, he had a private suspicion that the Councillor had burned through much of his political capital, overplaying his hand.  Would he still be able to use the outcome to press for changes?

“And Wolfbane will be bare light years away,” he mused.  There had been more reports of intrusions across the border, reports that had been two weeks old by the time they reached Avalon.  God alone knew what the situation was like now.  One scenario he’d contemplated was the CEF being attacked by Wolfbane’s Navy before it could disembark.  “Doing what, I wonder?”

A bell rang before he could say anything else.  Shaking his head, he left Gwen behind and strode into the Council Chamber and took a seat in the gallery, watching grimly as everyone who thought they were anyone on Avalon found their places and sat down.  Maybe it wouldn't be too long, he considered, before Avalon developed the ceremonies the Empire had once used to make it clear that the Grand Senate was in charge.  And when that happened, when lines were drawn between rulers and ruled, something vitally important would be lost forever.

He found himself looking up at the chairs on the other side of the room.  Reporters, of course – he saw Jasmine’s lover among them – and family members, but there were others too.  Men and women who had realised just how important this hearing was likely to be, not for what might be decided but for what might come of it.  In a very real sense, the whole ideal of the Commonwealth itself was in trial.

Councillor Stevens stood and gravelled for silence.  Ed leaned back in his chair as the chatter died away, watching and waiting to see what the Council might have decided.  Gaby had been excluded from their discussions, but Councillor Travis – thanks to his political footwork – had not.  Ed couldn't help admiring the deviousness the man had shown in organising and steering the hearing – he’d managed to both advocate it and serve as a judge – yet he wished that it had been turned to another purpose.  The Commonwealth had quite a few political problems that might be solved with some fancy diplomatic footwork.

Maybe we can make him a diplomat
, he thought, before dismissing the idea as absurd.  They might have been trying to reinvent the whole idea of diplomacy after the fall of the Empire – the Empire had never been very diplomatic, as it had wielded the biggest stick in the history of mankind – but he was fairly sure that appointing someone adamantly opposed to the Commonwealth to the Diplomatic Corps would be a bad idea.  At the very least, it would suggest that Avalon was more interested in getting rid of a nuisance than actual diplomacy.

“We are very aware of the fact that this hearing is unprecedented,” Councillor Stevens said, “and that we will be setting the precedent for countless hearings to come.  As such, we have been careful to go through the steps point by point, calling everyone who could reasonably be called to testify.  We may have trod the same ground time and time again, but we have a reasonably comprehensive picture of everything that happened.”

That was true enough, Ed knew, although it was still tainted with hindsight.  But very few people could dismiss hindsight altogether, even when they were aware of the dangers of using knowledge from the future.  There was always a tendency to move towards the answer the viewer knew was correct, simply through having the benefit of hindsight.  It was far harder to understand that the person at the time might have thought differently.

“The Council wishes to take a moment to express its gratitude to everyone who was called to testify,” Councillor Stevens continued.  “It could not have been an easy experience for them, any more than it was for any of us.  But their testimony helped flesh out the gaps in the record.”

And wasted a great deal of time
, Ed thought.  There were only a handful of people involved in the actual decision.  Calling junior soldiers who had first seen combat during the CEF’s ill-fated deployment might have looked good, but it hadn't produced anything useful. 
But then, I suppose they wanted to be as careful as possible
.

“Overall, we have reached a number of conclusions,” Councillor Stevens said.  “Those conclusions can now be stated for the record.”

Ed felt cold ice moving through his bloodstream.  A determination that he had acted poorly in making the decision to deploy the CEF, let alone accepting Wolfbane’s choice of a venue for the talks, wouldn't be enough to fire him.  But if his position was undermined so badly, he would have no choice but to resign.  The principle of civilian control of the military was too important to allow his own feelings to interfere with his duty to uphold it.  They wouldn't need to make a case for his dismissal if he resigned.

“First, the decision to use Lakshmibai was not taken by anyone on Avalon,” Councillor Stevens said.  “We believe that the decision was unwise, but our representatives were given few choices.  Wolfbane made the decision to use Lakshmibai and we accepted it, because we were given no reasonable alternative.  It is unlikely, we believe, that the people who made the original decision will ever stand trial in this chamber.”

Probably
, Ed thought, cynically.  The Empire had occasionally tried and punished officers from independent planetary militias, but the Empire had been overwhelmingly powerful.  It could have enforced compliance if the planetary militia had balked.  It was unlikely, however, that the Commonwealth could try anyone from Wolfbane ... or, for that matter, that Wolfbane could insist on asserting authority over the Commonwealth.  Both sides would regard it as compromising their independence.

“Second, given the security situation on Lakshmibai,” Councillor Stevens continued, “the decision to deploy the CEF was not in error.  Foresight shows little about Lakshmibai to like; hindsight tells us that the planet would be plunged into a full-scale war.  Having the CEF accompanying the diplomats was a wise precaution, one that more than proved its value.”

Ed looked up at Councillor Travis.  His face was impassive, betraying none of his innermost thoughts, but he had to be outraged.  The two most important charges, the ones that would have been levelled against Ed if they’d been upheld, had been rejected.  Ed wondered, coldly, just what the Councillor was thinking.  Did he intend to press for a retrial?  Or would he merely accept there was no point in playing out a losing hand?

“Third, however, the decision to accept Wolfbane’s terms of sending away the starships was a deadly mistake,” Councillor Stevens said.  “They may have proposed it, but we do not believe that there was any reason to accept it, particularly as they had already accepted the CEF.  In future negotiations, it is our determination that if the security situation is badly unstable, we will insist on an equal number of starships being present in the star system in question.

“Fourth, the decision to take the CEF on the most direct route towards the planetary capital was the correct one,” Councillor Stevens concluded.  “There was no time for a more careful campaign, no time to outflank enemy defences; there was no choice, but to take the CEF straight through the enemy defences.  We do not consider that anyone involved should be punished for that decision.”

Ed saw Councillor Travis’s face flicker, just once.  He’d lost.  Jasmine – or Ed himself – would not be forced to resign from the military, let alone be dishonourably discharged by the Council.  There had been a reprimand, over the starships, but not enough to force him to hand in his resignation.  That, too, had been something Wolfbane had demanded as part of the price for the talks.  In hindsight, it suggested that Wolfbane had either underestimated the situation themselves or deliberately intended to give the locals a chance to slaughter the hatred off-worlders.

“Overall ...”

The first shot rang out.  Ed dropped to the ground out of habit, his mind automatically calculating the number of shooters and their weapons as his hand groped for the pistol at his belt.  Panic swept through the chamber as the shooter fired, time and time again, people fleeing for the doors rather than trying to tackle the shooter or get down on the ground.  In hindsight – he couldn't help a flicker of dark amusement – it had probably been a mistake to largely ban weapons from the Council Chamber.  Gaby had hoped to prevent her councillors from shooting at each other, but it had left them defenceless when someone else had started shooting at them.

There was a pause.  Ed calculated rapidly and concluded that the shooter was using a standard pistol ... and that he was probably reloading.  Pistol in hand, Ed stood up and saw a young man taking aim into the crowd.  He was wearing the grey overalls of an immigrant worker, something that would allow him to blend into almost anywhere in the city.  Ed lifted his pistol, then called out a warning.  The shooter swung round with astonishing speed, bringing his weapon to bear on Ed.  Ed fired, just once.  The shooter fell to the ground, blood spurting from a bullet wound in his temple.

“MEDIC,” Ed bellowed, as loudly as he could.  between the shooting and the crush, dozens of people were likely to be hurt.  “GET MEDICS NOW, DAMN IT!”

He reached for his wristcom as he headed towards where the shooter had fallen, keeping his pistol trained on the man’s body.  It wouldn't be the first time someone had survived a wound that had looked fatal.  But the shooter was very definitely dead, he discovered, as he prodded the body.  Ed’s bullet had seriously damaged his skull as well as passing through the man’s brain.

“Colonel,” Gwen’s voice said.  Security forces, soldiers and medics were starting to pour into the room.  The whole scene was one of complete confusion.  “I’ve got the QRF on the way.”

“Good,” Ed growled.  He raised his voice, taking command.  “Get everyone who isn't injured out of the building, then let the medics do their work.”

***

It had all happened so
quickly
.

One moment, Emmanuel Alves had been listening to Councillor Stevens babbling on about how everything that had happened wasn't anyone’s fault, the next he’d heard shots ring out in the Council Chamber.  He’d had enough experience to know that the smartest thing to do was to get down on the ground, so he’d done it, just in time to see another reporter fall to the ground, a nasty wound on her throat.  And then there’d been another shot and silence fell.

Carefully, summoning up a tiny fraction of the courage Jasmine routinely displayed, he rose to his feet and beheld a scene from hell.  People – ordinary people – were fighting to get through the doors, while others lay on the ground, dead or stunned.  Colonel Stalker and his terrifying Command Sergeant were examining another body, one with a pistol lying on the ground next to it.  The shooter, Emmanuel assumed, as he staggered forward.  Somehow, the sudden transition from peace to absolute mayhem had undermined his composure completely.

“Help the unwounded out of the building,” Colonel Stalker snapped at him.  “Now!”

The tone of command was so powerful that Emmanuel obeyed without question.  Part of his mind silently took notes, plotting the story he would write later, while the rest of it concentrated on following orders.  The audience seemed torn between panic and a strangely blasé reaction that bothered him, even though he knew that plenty of people on Avalon had experience in dangerous situations.  But it had been five years, more or less, since the end of the Cracker War.  People had had time to relax ...

Outside, crowds were already gathering, watching numbly as doctors and volunteers started to carry the wounded out of the building.  Thankfully, Avalon’s hospitals were designed to cope with a sudden influx of patients, at least once they were actually taken to the hospitals.  A line of new ambulances appeared, disgorging more doctors and nurses, allowing the patients to be loaded onboard.  Several of the unwounded looked very much as though they would have liked to join the wounded in the vehicles, but there was no time.

“The President has been hit,” someone said.  Emmanuel gasped as he heard the rumour, running through the crowd.  He’d approved of Gaby Cracker, insofar as he approved of anyone who had moved from commanding an insurgency to trying to steer politics onto a steady course that would avoid future conflict.  “She’s dead!”

The rumour spread faster and faster, growing in the telling.  Emmanuel replayed what little he’d seen of the shooting, but couldn't determine if the President had been hit or not.  How had the shooter even managed to get a weapon into the Council Chambers?  He shook his head a moment later, recalling just how little security there was around the building.  Gaby Cracker’s insistence on avoiding the old Council’s paranoia about their security had, ironically, contributed to her own injury.  But she’d never taken the threats quite seriously.

Another ripple ran through the crowd as someone stepped out of the building.  Emmanuel looked forward and realised, to his dismay, that it was Colonel Stalker.  The Marine’s uniform was stained with blood ... he hadn't been bloody before, Emmanuel recalled.  He’d touched someone who’d been injured ...