Warp World (40 page)

Viren rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin and nodded. “I’m a scoundrel, but I’m loyal to my deckies. Even that one.” He jerked a thumb to indicate Cerd. “Permission to speak freely, Lieutenant?”

“Talk.”

“Watch your stern with Cerd. I trust Brin. If he sent him along, he had his reasons. But the man has a past.”

Fismar gave Viren a tight grin. “You’re all a bunch of killers and cutthroats. And that’s not an insult. That’s the war you were fighting. But from now on you back him and you back me. Same goes for Cerd with you. And if I see either of you karging that I will bounce you. Not just out of command, I will bounce you straight out of the Guard. And there ain’t a lot of other forms of employment around here.”

“Understood.”

Fismar grabbed Viren’s shoulder. “I put you in Third because I trust you to do the right thing.” He glowered as Viren opened his mouth. “Don’t say it. Don’t ruin the karging moment, you idiot. C’mon, let’s go meet your troops.”

Shan nudged Elarn in the ribs as the Outers fell into formation beside them. “Hear you signed on full time?”

Elarn’s face remained dark, blank, as Fismar called everyone to attention.

“Alright, the squad leaders have been given the training timetable,” Fismar said. “We’re going to get a short period to acclimate to the new equipment, so we’re going to push hard. Our chain of command is finalized; Cerd will be my second in command, what you call
Mascom
, with Viren pulling third, or
Subcom
. Welkin handles air support in attachment; she’s an officer but not in the line of command. Elarn is now our full-time medical; he has authority over all med-related business.”

“Welcome to Crazy Town, Med,” Shan whispered.

Fismar looked at the Outers, eyes skimming from face to face. “I don’t care where you came from. There’s no more Secat, no more docks, no more of any of that. We’re going into a hard place, and every man in this unit backs every other man against any world we end up on. Clear?”

“Yes, Training Lieutenant!” the crowd shouted back in unison.

Shan looked over at Viren and whispered, “Only Third, huh? Shocking, you’re such a model leader, Big Mouth.”

Viren offered her an expression of abject misery. “Shocking indeed. I am heartbroken, in need of consolation and the healing power of a woman’s touch.”

“Shove your consolation up your—”

“Welkin!” Fismar glared cold daggers at her.

“Sorry, Lieutenant.”

“Cerd, Viren, get the units back on their training rotations. Feed at the usual time, meet me then. Welkin, with me.” Fismar pivoted on his heel and walked away.

Shan shot Viren one more glare before following Fismar. “Can’t believe you even made that joker a Third. You going soft, Fis?”

Once they were far enough from the crowd, Fismar whirled around. “If you ever undercut leadership in this unit again, I will bounce you, Welkin. I expect these troops to learn this as they go, but you’re a raider and a professional. You go with the program or you bond out and find another job. Is that clear?”

“Fis, that Outer’s been giving me the gears ever since we landed on that swamp world of his. I’m supposed to just roll over and take it?”

“There’s a chain now, it’s formal. If you find Subcom Viren’s behavior inappropriate, take it up to me and don’t kick him low in front of the troops he’s leading. I’m here, now. You got a complaint, deliver it.”

“Sure. Formal complaints on Outers, what’s next? We gonna join hands and sing together?” Shan said.

“You wanted in. If you want out, I’ll find somebody else to run the rider. If you’re in, do this professionally and quit whining. If you want out, do it now because if this problem comes up again I’ll make the decision for you.”

“Alright, alright,” Shan said, then pulled a digifilm from her pocket. “Anyway, I think I’ve got our entrance figured. Julewa was built with nested anti-air, missiles back to guns, so they can cover every range from short to long. Now, with the right rider and the right loadout, I can get through that and maybe give you two to three close passes before I take you in through the front door. And I do mean the front door. Only way. Whatever hidden tunnels they’ve got, we didn’t pick them up on the scans. Etiphars have been ready for a rider fleet to come in for over a century now, so you got to figure the landing pad is zeroed from every angle, and the power plant is buried on the third level, so you can’t knock it offline without getting in deep.” She tapped the screen and held it up for Fis to inspect. “We put down on the old flight deck. Only two entry points as far as I can make out, so that limits what they can send out at you, at least.”

Fismar studied the film briefly. “We’ve got gas and grabber loadouts in some of the ordinance we’re packing. Grabbers can seize the computer system, so we can lock out the doors and lights without taking the power down. Gas warheads are there to take the defenders down, a quick-clear neuro that’ll make ’em dive into their suits. If they got suits. If not?” He grinned. “Whole idea is to level it out so that our folks can do what they do best—get close and make a mess.”

“Thank the Storm for advanced tech,” Shan said.

“As for the rider—”

Fismar produced a digifilm of his own and passed it over.

“You’re kidding me?” Shan gaped at the image. The rider looked as if a strong wind would blow it apart. “
That
?”

“This isn’t a charter unit in the MRRC,” Fismar said. “Theorist’s finances have limits, even off the percentage he just pulled. We only need to get a training cycle out of it, and then this raid, and that’s the best fit for our budget.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve got any options anymore, I guess. Part of the greatest raid in the history of raids and this is where I end up. I can fly it, if it runs, but it won’t be pretty.”

“Boss ain’t paying for pretty, he’s paying for functional. Makes him better than most. You ship in two days to inspect the rider.”

“It’s going to need work. I’ll need a spare set of hands. Okay if I take Kalder?”

Fismar rocked back on his heels, hand against his chin as he considered the risks. “Boss has the Wellies watching him hard. She’s safest here—out of sight. Specially since I helped
unwrap
her.” He gestured to his neck, to indicate Ama’s revealed dathe.

“Then give me one of the other Out— ah,
troopers
, I mean.”

“Damn it, Welkin. I’m training them up to function as units. I can’t pull one out to play caj for you now. Alright, you can take her. With a warning.” He pointed a finger directly at Shan. “One problem,
one
, and—”

“I know, I know … bounce.”

“Yep. As for what the boss will do? I hope you’re not too attached to your limbs.”

“Cute.” She placed both her palms on the small of her back and cocked her head at Fismar. “We’re really doing this, huh? Thirty-three days? You sure they’ll be ready?”

“Training doesn’t make anybody ready. It just makes it less bad. Keep that one to yourself, but you, Elarn, and Manatu are the only raider veterans I have here and I need you to help me prep them for this. We’re going to win—believe that. How ugly we win? That’s the question.”

The lights were out in the small sleeping quarters, but Ama was wide awake. For the first night since she had returned to the warehouse, Shan had left her alone to sleep. It should have made her feel better, knowing that Shan believed she was well enough not to need her company, but now she couldn’t sleep if she tried. Every noise was a threat. Every shadow was someone coming to haul her away to the processing training room.

She tried to focus on her dathe, and on Fismar’s words.

I won’t let them win.

She pulled out her book and smoothed a hand over the pages—bent and torn after Seg threw it across the room. If she couldn’t sleep, she could at least read, that always helped to calm her.

A footstep—she was sure she heard it that time.

“Shan?” she asked.

When no one answered, she grabbed her new knife. Heart thudding, she called out in the biggest voice she could summon.

“Who’s there? Show yourself! I have a knife. I—”

“I mean no harm,” came the quiet reply.

A dark figure stepped out from the shadows. Ama tapped the amplight beside her and a faint glow appeared. The figure stepped closer and her breath stopped.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you, Captain.” Cerd spread his hands to show he was unarmed.

Ama sat up, rigid, knife pointed at Cerd. “What were you doing sneaking around back there?”

“Only watching—”

“And waiting to slit my throat.” Ama stood and held the knife out further.

“—to make sure you were okay. I saw that Pilot Welkin had left you alone. I was—” He raised his hands. “Please, you have nothing to fear. If you don’t trust me, surely you trust Brin’s judgment.”

Ama inhaled sharply, then lowered the knife a fraction.

“You don’t deserve to speak my cousin’s name,” she said.

“I know that better than anyone.”

Ama just stared for a moment, unsure what to do next. “I don’t want you spying on me.”

“Then I won’t. Only …” Cerd lowered his head and clasped his hands. “I’ve been inside the walls, and I know how hard it can be once you’re outside of them.”

Ama’s mouth went suddenly dry. She knew a little about Cerd’s capture and his imprisonment in M’eridia—a prison that made the Secat look tame, by all accounts. Of his escape, she had heard only rumors.

At her silence, Cerd continued. “And now I’m locked in here. All of us men, locked in here. Training at all hours. Disciplined, sometimes. Even so, we’re freer here than—than other places. At times, when the Lieutenant gives us liberty, I’ll walk through the building. Just walk. Because it’s something I can do. That only means something to someone who’s lost that right once before.”

Ama’s fingers squeezed around the hilt of the knife. She wasn’t sure what the feeling was that took hold, only that a voice was warning her not to trust anyone. “I don’t need your help, Cerd. Not you.”

He frowned at the floor. “That’s your choice, Captain. But know that you’re not alone in this. Many of these men came from the Secat—you saw that place, how it was for them. They’re superstitious …” He gestured to her dathe. “But they understand.”

Ama stared through him.

He spread his hands once more. “Again, my apologies if I frightened you. I’ll go now.”

“Can you sleep?” Her question stopped him in place. “I keep trying. I thought once I was out—” Her voice faded.

“Sleep? Never deeply, no. Open spaces are the hardest. You have to watch the men around you—some were animals coming in, others turned that way once they were locked up, but you never lowered your guard,” Cerd said.

“I used to swim. When I couldn’t sleep, when something was bothering me, I’d swim. Water always made me feel better. I can’t do that now.”

Cerd bowed his head again and Ama sensed she had pulled up some unhappy memory. His hands were clasped together and she could see he was rubbing them with some force.

“Perhaps, in time, sleep will come,” he said, then raised his head. “Perhaps never. But you have your brothers here and, on the names of my ancestors, we’d die to protect you.”

Ama’s expression softened for a moment, her mouth moving uncertainly before hardening into a thin line. She raised her eyes and locked them onto Cerd’s. She didn’t speak but the look told of what lingered beneath the fear, the dark thing that was poisoning her, the cold anger that ran under everything now.

He didn’t look away and, for a moment, she saw herself mirrored in his eyes.

Loss—that’s what she saw.