Steel World (45 page)

“Heavily-equipped? I’m going to be a heavy trooper, with armor?”

“Not just that. Every recruit is considered for advancement to heavy equipment after their first campaign. No, I’m recommending you for training as a weaponeer. I’ve reviewed the reports, and I was impressed by your improvisation with the equipment.”

I stared at him for a moment. Internally, I was thinking that it hadn’t been all that impressive. All I’d done was use the plasma tube as a reptile tongue-depressor. But when you’re being promoted, it’s best not to downplay your accomplishments.

“Nothing to say, McGill?” Graves asked stiffly. “You’ve been honored, man. Congratulations.”

I really didn’t know what to say for a moment, but then I had it: “Thank you, sir.”

Those words didn’t come easily for me. I could still see that missile arcing down to obliterate my body, and I still felt a twinge of that sick feeling left over from knowing I was about to die—again.

-34-

When I finally reached my quarters on Deck Nine, I was attacked from behind. Hands grabbed my elbow. Whoever my assailant was, I considered this opening move to be a mistake.

I stopped, planted my right foot and threw myself backward into him. I felt him fall back. Before we even hit the deck, I drove my elbow into a hard gut. It was unarmored, but muscular enough.

My attacker grunted and wheezed. The hands released me. I rolled to my feet, ready to fight. In my mind, I suspected the bio people, trying to finish their work before too many officers got used to seeing me around the ship again.

But when I looked down, I saw Carlos rolling around and groaning. He had his hands over his belly.

“Great way to greet a comrade,” he said.

“You should know better than to grab a soldier from behind. Don’t you know I was fighting for my life with an army of lizards an hour ago?”

“Yeah…a bad call, I admit.”

I helped him up, and he recovered quickly. “I wanted to surprise you,” he said.

“You achieved your goal.”

He laughed, and we walked into our quarters. I was surprised to see no one was there—no one except Natasha. I smiled when I saw her. She’d put on a little make-up or done her hair, or something. I wasn’t sure what it was, but she no longer looked like one more grunt in the squad.

“Where is everyone?”

“Special request from above,” Carlos said, grinning. “You’ve got the place to yourselves.”

He closed the door behind us, and I looked around in surprise. The barracks were usually pretty crowded. We kept it dark at night, as per regulations, but there was rarely much in the way of privacy. If two people wanted to be intimate, finding a spot for it was always a challenge.

Natasha was still smiling at me. She looked down shyly when I returned her stare. I walked forward and took her hand.

“Is this your idea?” I asked her.

“Yeah, sort of. It was everyone’s idea.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“You know what you did. You beat the saurians—single-handedly, if you listen to Carlos.”

“Hardly,” I said. “I was just in the right place at the right time—or the wrong place at the wrong time, depending on how you look at it.”

“But that’s not why I’m here,” she said. “I’m here because they tell me I would have been permed if it wasn’t for you. You went down that tunnel and found those lizards and got my data back. I’ve got a new body because of you.”

I smiled. That part was true, and I didn’t try to deny it.

“I like this kind of gratitude much better than the variety Graves dishes out,” I said.

We talked quietly for a time, and I told her she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to, but we got around to it in the end. When I was drifting off to sleep, the rest of the squad returned to the barracks and filed in. They made jokes and tossed pillows at us, but I barely cared.

* * *

At roll-call the next day, I was ordered out of line. Veteran Harris trotted away, and I followed him, double-time.

I wondered what this was all about. Foolishly, I thought perhaps I was in line for another accolade of some kind. The last two surprises had been good ones—what was next?

I was disappointed when he turned and headed for Blue Deck. I called for him to halt and talk. He ignored me and didn’t stop until we were left waiting for a lift.

“Veteran? I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to get close to the bio people right now.”

“Pissed them off bad, didn’t you, kid?”

“Yes sir. I really did.”

He chuckled. “Serves them right, those self-important ghouls. But this is out of my hands now. The brass is up there, waiting for you—including the primus. They’ve lodged some kind of complaint.”

“What should I do, vet?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you could ram a big gun into her face, like you did with the lizard down planet-side.”

Harris laughed then, and I failed to join in his amusement. I decided to play it cool and dumb. I’d see how far that got me, then I’d go for evasiveness.

As I thought over these moves in the elevator, I felt my heart sink. This wasn’t going to be an easy crowd to fool.

I stepped past the guards, orderlies and bio specialists. As I passed by, everyone who saw me stopped talking and stared. They didn’t grind their teeth, but there was a certain cold curiosity in their eyes. I was a patient who’d stepped beyond the accepted boundaries. I was not one of them—and somehow, I knew I never would be.

I was led into a quiet conference room with muted light and a very high ceiling. I realized I didn’t have any weapons with me. I glanced over to Veteran Harris, checking out his sidearm.

He noticed this with that extrasensory perception of his and coughed. When his hand came down from his mouth, it came to rest on the butt of his pistol. To me, the message was clear even though our eyes did not meet: I wasn’t going to get his weapon away from him.

Primus Turov herself stared at me coldly. Her hands were steepled, and she had the same look on her face she’d had when she’d ordered me to be permed before. Somehow, I knew she’d never liked me since that day. I was an aberration. A walking, talking dead man. She’d passed judgment upon me, and I’d somehow evaded it. I could tell by her cold, dead eyes that she intended to fix that error.

To her right sat Centurion Graves. He didn’t look happy or upset. His face was stone. But I was happy to see him there, as I thought he had to be in my corner. He’d argued on my behalf before, and right now, I really needed a friend among the officers.

The last face present was the least pleasant of the bunch. It was none other than Bio Centurion Thompson, the queen of all James McGill haters. I wondered if she’d somehow begun to remember the details of her murder, or if others had put it together for her. She was my real enemy in this room—I was sure of that much.

“This conference is now in session,” the primus announced.

I stood at attention at the end of the oval conference table. No one had invited me or Harris to take a seat. I stared at the wall above the officers’ heads, tried to look cool, and hoped for the best.

“James McGill,” she said officiously. “You stand charged of murder—again. But this time your victim was human and an officer. How do you plead?”

“I’m sorry Primus,” I said. “Who am I accused of murdering?”

With a nod, she indicated Centurion Thompson who was doing her best to burn me to ash with her eyes.

“I’m sorry—but I must plead not guilty.”

“On what grounds?” the Centurion interjected, earning herself a frown from the primus, which she seemed to miss entirely.

“Grounds, sir? You’re sitting right here, clearly alive and well.”

Graves cleared his throat. “Murder is still possible, despite the revival of the victim. If the act was performed, justice must be served.”

I was beginning to feel heat rising in a ring around my neck. I wanted to open my shirt, but I remained stock-still.

“May I receive counsel?” I asked.

Graves and the primus exchanged glances.

“This is a military proceeding,” Graves said. “We’re following Hegemony Law, subservient to Galactic Law. I’m acting as your counsel, and the primus is the final arbiter.”

This didn’t fill me with confidence. I quickly glanced from one of them to the other. None of their faces had an ounce of sympathy in them. With Graves, I knew that didn’t mean he wasn’t pulling for me. He was as expressionless as a lizard most of the time.

“Is self-defense permissible as a defense?” I asked.

“It is,” Graves answered.

“Then I claim self-defense,” I said as calmly as I could. “The Centurion attempted to use deadly force on me, and I responded in kind.”

“You don’t have any evidence!” complained the bio.

I finally looked at her. “I have two witnesses. The orderlies. I looked up their names and contacted them last night. They know what was in that syringe. They know who had the skill to prepare such a dose of poison and who didn’t.”

This took her by surprise. She opened her mouth then closed it again. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I was, of course, bluffing. I hadn’t contacted anyone. I’d been lying low, hoping this would all be swept under the rug. But she didn’t know that.

Graves leaned in for the kill, staring coldly at the bio Centurion. “A syringe? You claimed you were strangled. We’ll have to have an inquest.”

“No,” she said suddenly, dropping her eyes. “I—that won’t be necessary. I’ll drop the charges if he does.”

Graves nodded approvingly. “Very adult of you. Under battlefield conditions, I’ve found many people lose their sense of judgment and proportion.”

She looked pissed but nodded.

Graves now seemed slightly pleased, but not the primus. She was annoyed. That’s when I knew Turov was still gunning for me.

“There is another issue,” she said. “You, James McGill, are supposed to be dead.”

“Everyone in Legion Varus dies now and again,” I said, quoting Graves. “It’s part of the job.”

“That may very well be, but they aren’t often executed for violating Galactic Law.”

Our eyes met, and I knew there was no love lost in this woman. She was still upset that Graves had revived me.

“What’s done is done,” Graves said calmly. “Let’s move forward. We have a capable soldier here, and we can go home and apply his unusual talents to a new campaign. I hear there’s a newly colonized world in the Cerberus system and the locals can’t agree who owns it. New contracts are our lifeblood. If we—”

“I can’t let this go, Centurion,” the primus said, cutting him off. “We’re exposed, here. Not just you and I. Not just Legion Varus. All of Earth is threatened by what McGill did. He’s undisciplined and a danger to everyone. Most importantly, the Galactics think we executed him—permanently. If they or the Nairbs figure out that didn’t really happen—”

“I understand, Primus,” Graves said. “But they won’t. The Galactic didn’t forward a formal complaint up the chain. He conferred with us, and witnessed his will being carried out. The event can be forgotten by all now.”

The primus shook her head slowly. Graves was frowning, and the bio was smirking.

I could see the problem as it grew. I had two enemies and one friend on a committee of three. Those were not good odds.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to err on the side of caution,” the primus said. She looked at me coldly. “We appreciate your fighting skills, Recruit. But you must be put down as initially ordered. Surely, everyone here can see that. The risk for the Legion is too great otherwise. And, may I say, speaking for all of Varus, that you have our condolences. Now, let’s put the matter to a vote.”

“I vote nay,” said Graves immediately.

The primus turned to Centurion Thompson. She managed not to grin.

“The situation is unfortunate, but I must agree with the primus on this occasion. I vote yea.”

“I also vote yea,” said the primus. “A verdict has been reached. The accused shall be—”

“I want to appeal the verdict,” I said quickly.

“Appeal?” asked the primus. She seemed amused. “We’re lightyears out into space. We’re no longer orbiting Cancri-9. Every Hegemony Law states we have full jurisdiction—‘we’ meaning the officers of Legion Varus. There is no higher body to appeal to.”

I was sweating now but determined. “I wish to appeal to the tribune,” I said.

Graves gave me a slight nod of approval. He lowered his head and quietly worked his tapper.

The faces of the two women darkened. The primus paused, seemingly to consider my appeal. She took a deep breath, heaved a sigh, and said: “No. I’m sorry. There is merit in your request, however—”

“Excuse me, Primus,” said Graves. “I’m sorry as well—but I’ve already relayed the request to the tribune.”

“You did
what
?”

“I assumed, since this is a capital case, an appeal would be automatically honored. I’m sorry if I overstepped my authority. I simply wanted to get the case concluded quickly. Should I message the tribune and rebuff him? He has expressed interest in the matter.”