Insurrection

by David Weber

  He stared down at her helplessly, tasting her anguish and longing with all his heart to comfort her. Yet he sensed something more than anguish under her sick, weakened strrface, something pure and almost childlike in its innocent strength, like spring steel at her core.

  This was a woman who knew herself, however imperfect her self-knowledge seemed to her.

  He sank into a chair, knowing she would turn back to him shortly, that his departure would shame her, watching the taut, bony shoulders relax. And as he watched the wasted body unknot, he felt himself in the presence of a great peacefulness, as if she were but the last to ink in an endless chain, able to draw on the strength of all who had gone before her. He'd already recognized the years of self-discipline behind her serenity, yet now his empathy went deeper, sensing the gift of freedom her parents had given her so long before, and he wished desperately that more of his patients could be so.

  Her head moved finally, the delicate skull under the fine, dark fuzz shifting on the pillow, and she spoke quietly.

  "Thnk you, Doctor. I wish vou'd told me sooner--but maybe you were right. Maybe i needed to wait for a litfie while." "No, I was wrong," he said humbly.

  "Perhaps. At any rate, now I know, don't I? I'll have to think about it." "Yes." He rose unwillingly, shocked to realize that he wanted to stay within the orbit of her strength, then shook himself and smiled faintly. "Should I send Lieutenant Tinnamou back in? I think she's a bit concerned you might have, er, exhausted your strength." "Is she?" Han's weary face dimpled. "I hadn't realized I knew so much profanity, but I'd rather be alone for a bit, Doctor. Would you give her my apologies? I'll apologize in person later." "If you like," he said, relieved to see her smile at last, "but we kindly healers know sick people aren't at their best, Commodore." "Please, call me Han," she said, touching his wrist with skeletal fingers. "And I will apologize to her. But not just now.

  "Certainly. I'll tell her--Ham" He twinkled sadly at her and touched his nameplate. "And my name is Daffyd." "Thank you, Daft.vd." She smiled again and closed her eyes. He left.

  It took hours to truly accept it. The actual fact was not surprising--not intellectually. Somehow Han had assumed it wouldn't happen to her, but she'd always known it could. It was unfair, but then so was biology.

  She felt tears on her cheeks, and this time felt no shame. Her life had been so orderly. She'd faced her need to excel in her chosen field, known that pride required proof of her competence. And, as a woman, the pressure for early achievement had been great, for she was not just a Fringer; she was Hangchowese, born to a culture which thought as much in generations as individuals. So her schedule had been set; she would achieve her rank, and then take time for the children she wanted.

  She rolled her head on the pillow, agonized by a loss even more poignant because she had never possessed what had been lost. The pain was terrible, but the awful moment of realization was past. All she must do now was face it. All she had to do was cope with the unbearable.

  It would have been different ff she were an Innerworgg'der, she thought sadly, for the crowded Innerworlds restricted access to longevity treatments.

  But Han had been born on a Fringe World blessed with adequate medical technology, one where the antigerone therapies were generally available. At thirty-nine, she looked-and was-the Inner-world equivalent of perhaps twenty, and the differential would grow as time passed. She had expected another fifty years of fertility... fifty years which had been snatched away. For a moment, she almost envied the Innerwodders" shorter spans. They would have had fewer lonely years, she thought in a surge of self-pity.

  She frowned sadly. Llewellyn was a good man, despite his homeworld, but his every word of comfort only underscored their differences. There were too few people in the Fringe. Alien gravities and environments inhibited fertility -comx took generations for the biological processes to readjust fully, and no woman of Hangchow would even consider conceiving a chfid with a potentially lethal genetic heritage.

  For them, babies were unutterably precious, the guarantee of the future, not burdens on a crowded world's resources. Intellectually, Han could accept Llewellyn's words; emotionally they were.intolerable.

  ISV-AACTO

  She. shook her head slowly, feeling the pain recede as she faced the decision. There was only one she could make and be true to herself and her culture, she thought, and knowing that defeated the pain.

  But nothing would ever dispel her sorrow.

  Time passed slowly "in a hospital. Seeing days slip past without activity to fill them was a new experience for Han, and she felt events leaving her behind. Her battlegroup was disbanded as Bayonet and Sawfly, the last surviving units, were repaired and transferred to other squadrons, and even her surviving staff was on the binnacle list. Tsing Chang would be returning to duty only shortly before Han herself, and Esther Kane had never cleared Longbow. Robert Tomanaga would live, but he would be busy learn-lng to walk with one robotic leg for months to come.

  Only --avid Reznick had survived unhurt. He was the sole viseatot she was allowed for two weeks, and meeting him again was perhaps the saddest of her few duties, for if he was physically unscathed, his coltish adolescence was gone. He'd been forced to mature in a particularly nasty fashion, and she was only grateful it had not embittered him. Indeed, she felt a certain subtle strength within him, the strength of a man who has been so afraid that he will never be that frightened again. She hoped she was right, that it was strength and not the final, fragile ice over a glaring weakness. She was in poor shape when he called on her, and the visit was so brief she could scarcely recall it later, yet she felt her judgment was sound.

  But her staffs losses reflected her people's casualties as a whole, and she grieved for them.

  There were over four hundred dead from Longbow alone, and it had taken all her will to remind herself that almost five hundred of her people had escaped.

  Yet no one at all snrvived from Bardiche or Yellow-jacket, and only twelve from Falchion.

  She supposed historians would call the operation a brilliant success, but twenty-eight hundred of her people had died, and it was hard to feel triumphant as she brooded over her dead in the long, lonely hours.

  Yet endless though the days seemed, she was improving, and she received concrete proof of that in her third week of convalescence. A chime sounded, her door opened, and her thin face blossomed in an involuntary smile as she looked up from her bookviewer and saw Commodore Magda Petrovna.

  "Hah!" Magda reached out to grip her hand, and her concerned eyes surveyed the ravages of Han's illness. But they were also calm, and Hah recognized a kindred soul in the lack of effusive, meaningless pleasantries.

  "Come to view the nearly departed, Magda?" "Exactly. Mind?" "Of course not. Sit down and tell me what's happening. It's like pulling teeth to get them to tell me anything in this place!" Magda scaled her cap onto an empty table and brushed back her hair. The white streaks flashed in the window's sunlight like true silver, and for just a moment Hah was bitterly envious of her healthy vitality.

  "Not too surprising," Magda grinned. "It's a Rump hospital, and they wouldn't like to talk about a lot of what's happening." "I think you're doing Captain Llewellyn an injustice," Hah said gently from her pillows. "I don't think he worries about his patients' uniforms. He certainly couldn't have been kinder to me." "Then he's an exception," Magda said tartly. "Most of "em look like they smell something bad when we walk into a room. Hard to blame them, really. Their defense wasn't anything to be particularly proud of." "No?" Han's mouth turned down. "They did well enough against me, Magda. They destroyed my entire battlegroup." "No they didn't, Han. Oh, they hurt you, I don't deny that, but Bayonet and Sawfly came through practically untouched. And my God, what you did to them! All my group had to do was clean up the wreckage, Hah--you and your people won the battle." Hah shook her head stubbornly and said nothing.

  "You did," Magda insisted. "The poor Rump pilots were so green they never stood a chance once Keller
man got his fighters launched, and the local population was with us. Some of the planetary garrison tried to hold out, but the ground fighting took less than a day. Thay never had a chance without Fleet support. But ff you and your people II-QSURRECTION 203 hadn't smashed those forts up before they came fully on line---was She shivered elaborately.

  They did well enough against me," Han repeated with quiet bitterness.

  "No argument. But they were the only vets @.kywatch had, and their only Fleet units--one battle-cruiser and a half-dozen tincans--hauled ass as soon as they realized we were in force." She grinned suddenly, her humor so bubbling it reached through even Han's depression. "You should hear what old Pritzcowitski'has to say about them! They'd better pray he never writes an efficiency report on them!" "I can imagine," klan agreed, and amazed herself by laughing for the first time since the battle. It felt so good she tried it again, feeling Magda's approving eyes upon her. "You're good for me, Magda." "Fair's fir," Magda said, shaking her head.

  "If you hadn't doric your job, I wouldn't be here. They went" for Snphaunce with everything they had as soon as they saw her--fortunately, you hadn't left them much." "Tm glad." "So was I. Oh, by the way, I checked on your Captain Tsing on the way up here. He's madder than hell the doctors won't let him come see you, but he's doing fine. In fact, he even kept some hair." "Thank God!" Han said quietly. "And Lieutenant Kan?" A little worse than Tsing, but he'll be fine, Han." "Thank you for telling me." "Well, I hope someone Would tell ne if the position were reversed[" "@.o the rest of the Fleet got off light," Han mused. "Yep. In fact, Admiral Ashigara's already headed for Zephrain, and Kellerman's carriers are off to join our monitors and move on Gastenhowe." "Then why aren't you gone?" Hah asked.

  "I, my dear, am senior officer commanding Cimmaronat least for now. They added a cruiser and light carrier group to my battle-cruisers, then uncrated those fighters... and most of @.kywatch surrendered intact when they saw you did to one detachment." see." Hah pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Not bad for a lowly commodore, Magda. I'm glad for you."

  "You are?" Magda smiled warmly. 'l'hanks- -comb I'm only left-brace tour deputy.

  You're still senior, so as soon as you're up, the command is yours. So get yourself well and relieve me, Commodore!" "I'd say the job was in good hands," Han said.

  "Thanks, but I'll be glad to turn it over to someone else, believe me. And in the meantime, if you don't mind too much, there's someone out in the hall who'd like to see you. My chief of staff." "Then invite him in! I haven't been allowed any visitors, Magda, and I still haven't thanked him properly for saving mv ship at Bigelow." 'Magda smiled and stepped back out into the corridor to collect Captain Windrider. Han watched his gaze move over her hairless skull and wasted face and wondered ff her appearance shocked him, but he only smiled.

  "Good morning, Commodore. You're looking better than I'd expected." "Better?" Han shook her head. "Were you expecting a corpse, Captain?" "No, just someone who'd come a little closer to being one.

  "Well, I suppose I came close enough, at that," Han agreed, and patted her bed. "There's only one chair, so one of you has to sit here." She half-expected an awkward pause as Windrider took the chair and Magda perched on the bed, but these were fellow professionals thev knew the risks, and they could speak of them unselfcon'sciously. But more than that, she realized, she was profiting from how comfortable they were with one another. She knew they'd never met before Windrider became Magda's chief of staff, yet they seemed far closer than the mere professionalism of a smooth command team could account for. It was a personal sort of closeness, one that carried them over any bumps in their conversation without a pause.

  The more she listened to them, the more aware she became of the almost telepathic nature of their communication.

  They used a sort of shorthand, with single words replacing entire sentences, vet seemed totally unaware of it. But they reached out t her, as well, and she found herself opehing up to others as she never had before. She wondered later ff physical weakness had somehow eroded her normal reserve, but she suspected the answer was far simpler than that: Magda Petrovna.

  Hah watched Magda, feeling the way she drew both Windrider and herself towards her. Not since she'd been a little girl in the presence of her own mother had Han felt such an aura of peace, and at this moment in her life, she could feel only gratitude, for she well knew how desperately she needed it. She allowed herself to relax completely -coms completely that she barely noticed when the conversation turned to her injuries.

  She never could recall the exact words in which the information slipped out, but she never forgot Magda's expression. The brown eyes were soft, but they were also warm and supportive. Few people have the gift of offering complete sympathy without undermining the ability to deal wi pain. Magda, Hah realized, did.

  "It's c'onfirmed?" Magda asked gently.

  "Yes." Han felt her mouth twist and straightened it, drawing her serenity about her once more.

  Magda's support offered her strength, and she nodded. "I have about one chance in sixty of conceiving a normal child." "Shit." Windrider's single, bitter word might have undercut her self control, but she saw the anger in his dark, lean face and eyes. Anger over her loss, utterly unencumbered by self-consciousness.

  In that moment, he became her brother.

  "Have you decided what to do?" Magda's face was serene, and Hah felt she would have reached down to smooth her hair, had she still had hair, as she asked the question.

  "I've arranged to have my tubes tied." She shook her head wryly. "Daffyd took it worse than I did, though he tried to hide it." "I imagine," Magda patted Han's sound thigh gently. "Funny how irrational we Fringers are, isn't it?" She smiled and patted her again, then glanced at her watch and rose. "Damn, look at the time! Your "kindly healer"--was Han grinned at Llewellyn's favorite phrase his-commuttered something about firing squads ff we wore you out. And you're looking a little peaked to me, so we'd better clear out. But we'll be back, won't we, Jason?" "Sure thing, Boss." Windrider patted one thin hand, squeezing it as he rose. "Don't worry, Ham We'll mind the store until you come back." "I'm sure you will." She watched them head for the door and then raised her voice slightly.

  "Thank you for coming. And--was she found the words surprisingly comfort- able for one normally so reserved his-comthank you for being you. It... helped. It helped a lot." "Tubewash!" Magda chuckled, tucking her edp under her arm as Windrider opened the door. "Just an excuse to get dirtside, Hah!" She sketched a casual salute and stepped through the door, followed by Windrider. It elosed behind them, and Hah stared at it thoughtfully. Then she let herself settle back into her pillows as the familiar drowsi- ness returned.

  "I'm sure it was, Magda," she whispered softly, lips curving in a smile. "I'm sure it was." "Courage above all things is the first quality of a warrior." General Karl yon Clausewitz, On War DRUMBEAT Zephrain, as humans rendered the name bestowed by its Orion discoverers, was a distant binary system.

  Component Beaeaan orange K8 star, swung ponderously around its yellow G5 companion in an orbit of over fifty percent eccentricity, coming as close as three light-hours at perias-tron.

  Both stars had small families of planets, and extensive asteroidal rubble marked the hypothetical orbits of stillborn gas giants which would have formed but for the gravitational havoc wrought by each star on the other's planetary system.

  Zephrain A-II was Earthlike a small, dense world with abundant liquid water and free oxygen. Named Xanadu by a humorously inclined Terran-Survey ocer, A-II was home to a thriving human population, but Zephrain RDS was on Gehenna, Planet A-III--A lifeless, nearly airless ball of sand not much better than Old Terra's neighbor Marsprecisely because the station must inevitably be the primary target in the system. Since Howard Anderson's day, the TFN had believed that hiscombat should be kept out in space where it belongs", or, if not in space, at least on worthless planets no one would miss when the planetbusters arrived.

  And that, thought Vice Admiral I
an Trevayne, was a very fine policy against aliens who would lose no sleep over the incidental genocide of whole human colonies. But in a war between humans, there were arguments for placing targets like Zephrain RDS next to a city or two. Or

  would that have given the Terran Republic pause, after all? Certainly the murderous bastards had already shown their willingness to inflict noncombatant casualties, he thought bitterly.

  The Terran Republic! Trevayne recalled a cynical query concerning Old Terra's Holy Roman Empire: in what respect was it holy, Roman, or an empire? He almost voiced the thought to the older man beside him, but he knew he would have gotten a look of incomprehension and polite disinterest. Vice Admiral Sergei Ortega was no history buff.

  At any rate, there were more urgent matters at hand. Like persuading Ortega to stay aboard this ship.

  They stood on the flag bridge of the monitor Zoroff, Trevayne's flagship. Accompanying her in orbit around Xanadu were the other ships of the battlegroup he'd brought through the chaos of insurrection to Zephrain. He still couldn't contemplate the journey without a feeling of awe that he had actually gotten away with it.