Insurrection

by David Weber

  "Well," Trevayne said, stepping in to fill the gap before Desai could speak, "I think Ms.

  Ortega has raised some valid points. At the very least, we need to address the jurisdictional question posed by the civilian habitats on Gehenna. which, of course, didn't exist when the RDS was founded. Comments, anyone?" Discussion proceeded without anything provocative from Desai. Trevayne, relieved, exchanged a quick smile with Miriam. No one but Yoshinaka noticed that Desai grew even stiffer than was her wont.

  "I don't think your Captain Desai likes me very much." Trevayne waved a negligent hand as he and Miriam walked together down the corridor after the meeting had broken up.

  "Oh, don't feel singled out," he said airily. "I'm afraid Sonja's like that with everyone. It's just the way she is. Don't give it another thought." "Maybe," Miriam replied dubiously.

  HONOR "Begin," the judge said, and Lieutenant Mazarak unleashed a short, straight lunge in sixte.

  Han's wrist flicked, brushing the blade to the outside, arm extending in a quick riposte in the same line. But he shortened to parry and fell back, and she followed, her mind almost blank as hand and eye and reflex carried the weight of her actions.

  Back and forth, blades grating and slipping, dreamy thought coming in a curiously fleeting pattern.. Few Hangchowese bothered with the ancient dueling sword, especially in its Western forms, and Han had never considered it herself until she'd been wounded. Yet it seemed she possessed a natural aptitude, and the elegant converse of steel suited her.

  She disengaged and Mazarak pursued, pressing her cautiously, yet Han felt he was more defensive-minded, and she believed she had a better sense of point. She feinted above his hand, dropping her point to go in under his drawn guard, but he parried like lightning and riposted in octave. She put his point aside--butarely--with a counter-parry, and he tried a quick double disengage in sixte. But she was ready, seizing his blade and carrying it low and outside in a quick bind that flashed instantly into a fieche. Her epee snaked home as she passed to his left, and the scoring light lit.

  "Touchg"," the judge intoned, and they drew apart, breath- "rI" Issuan.coation ing just a bi[ more heavily and saluting as they prepared to reengage for the next point.

  Han emerged from the salle, mask in hand and under her arm, shaking her sweat-damp hair. She hadn't had it back all that long, and she rather enjoyed the feeling.

  "Hah," Magda Petrovna said, "that's the silliest sport ever invented." "Come now, Magda! Its origins were anything but silly." "Maybe." Magda tucked a proprietary arm through Jason Windrider's. "But I'll settle my quarrels decently... with pistols at twenty meters, thank youI" "Russians have so little soul," Han mourned.

  "It's fun, Magda. Not like judo, but I had to get back in shape somehow, and I thought I'd try something new." She shrugged. "I like it." "Well, certainly seems to've gotten you back on your feet, Admiral, sir," Jason Windrider teased.

  "It does, does it, Commodore?" Han asked dfiatingly. Windrider stroked his new insignia and grinned. "Just trying to keep up, Admiral. And you and Magda haven't had your stars all that long." "No, we haven't," Han said more somberly, glancing at the heavy braid on Magda's cuff.

  When she was in uniform, her own sleeves matched Magda's and it made her uneasy. She'd been confident enough when they made her a commodore--but that was before Gimmaron.

  Yet the Republic had no choice. It had paid heavily in ships and personnel for its string of victories, and disproportionately so in the flag officers aboard their easily iden-tiffed command ships.

  Nor had all of them died victorious. There were still no formal avenues of communication between the Republic and the Rim Systems, but Vice Admiral Trevayne (and what a shock to discover he was not only alive but in Zephrain!) had supplied a casualty list, and there were few Republican survivors. Neither Analiese Ashigara nor Colin Trevayne was among them, and Hah wondered how Trevayne could live with what he'd done. The question held a dread fascination, for he, at least, had demonstrated just how far duty and honor could carry a person.

  But the Republic's heavy butcher's bills explained the rapid promotions. Han had been a commodore for less than eighteen months, and ten of them had been spent as Daffyd Llewellyn's patient. What he'd been pleased to call a "fractured" femur had required massive surgical reconstruction, and the antigerone therapies had their disadvantages. To stretch the life span, they slowed the biological clock--including healing speeds. The quick-heal drugs which were part of the doomwhale's pharmaceutical cornucopia could offset that, but not after such rad poisoning as Han had survived, which had made her a semi-permanent fixture at the hospital, though she'd bullied Llewellyn into ou-patient status the moment she began therapy.

  Magda had been only too glad to turn over the Cimmaron command. And, having experienced the restrictions of a dirtside appointment for the last eleven months, Han didn't blame her at all.

  "At least you look healthy enough jumping around with that ridiculous thing." Magda's teasing voice pulled Han back from her thoughts.

  "Thanks. BuPers thinks so, too--comI got confirmation of my new status yesterday, and I'm back in space next month! I'm going to miss Chang, though." "I imagine so," Magda agreed, and Hah hid a smile as her friends exchanged glances. She knew they both resented the fact that Windrider's promotion made him too senior to remain Magda's chief of staffeven while it delighted them both as proof of his professional reputation and future. "Who's replacing him?" Magda asked after a moment.

  "Bob Tomanaga. He's cleared for active duty again, too." "Tomanaga?" Magda repeated.

  "I know he worried me once, but I was wrong.

  It's just the way Bob is. He can't seem to be discouraged or even detached no matter what." Hah shook her head. "I don't know why he's so round-eyed." "Certainly not," Windrider agreed, grinning disrespectfully.

  "Well," Han paused by her waiting skimmer, "back to the salt mines. You two will join me for supper, won't you?" "I will," Magda agreed with a slight pout, "and Jason may. His group's spacing out with Kellerman, you know." "I'd forgotten." Hah frowned, rummaging through her orderly memory. Kellerman was slated to carry out another probe of the rear approaches to the Rim Systems. The lifeless warp lines there were ill-suited to sustained operations, and neither Har--comnor anyone else, it seemed--expected much to come of the probes. But there'd be enough skirmishing to satisfy the newsies, and the Fleet was stretched thin at the moment. The Rim had been demoted to secondary status while the frontline systems were stabilized and the new shipyards got into production.

  "It's all right, Magda," she said finally.

  "Anton and the dockyard are squabbling over Unicorn's repairs. He's not going anywhere without his flagship, and the yard won't turn her loose for at least another forty hours. You'll both have time for supper." "And for @. little something else, God willing," Windrider murmured as he opened the hatch for Han. His eyes twinkled wickedly, and Magda actually blushed. "But we will be there for supper, Admiral. Won't we, Admiral?" "Unless I brig you for disrespect," Magda growled, and tossed Hah a salute. "Bye, Hah. See you this evening." And the skimmer swept away.

  "Well, Chang, I guess this is goodbye." "Yes, sir." The bulky captain faced her over her desk, cap under one arm, unreadable as ever, and Han studied him carefully. They liked and respected one another, but there was an inner core to him which she had never cracked. Not that it mattered, she thought with sudden affection. However he ticked, he was the most utterly reliable subordinate a woman could want.

  No, not subordinate. Assistant. Better yet, colleague. "Chang, I won't embarrass you by saying how much Ill miss you," she said slowly, "but I wistl say that Direhound couldn't find a better skipper. And---was she looked into his eyes" that no one ever had a better chief of staff." "'hank you, sir," he said. "It's been a pleasure, Admiral. Ig" He broke off suddenly, and gave a tiny shrug.

  Hah nodded, surprised less that he'd stopped than that he'd spoken in the first place. It was like him, she thought. So very like him.

/>   "Very well, Captain." She held out her hand with the traditional blessing. "Good fortune and good hunting, Chang." "Thank you, sir," he said gruffly, gripping her hand hard.

  She squeezed once, then stepped back as Tsing turned to leave. But he halted at the door of her office and placed his cap very carefully on his head, then turned and threw her an Academy-sharp salute.

  Han was startled. Navy regs prohibited headgear doors dirtside, and it was officially impossible to salute without it. But her own hand rose equally sharply, and Tsing turned on his heel and vanished.

  Good bye, Tsing Chang, she thought wistfully.

  You never doubted me during the mutiny. You fought with me at Cimmaron. You saved my life. I suppose that's all I really need to know about you, isn't it... my friend?

  "Well, Admiral," Robert Tomanaga crossed Han's office without even a limp to betray his prosthetic leg, "it's a new staff, but it looks good." "Not entirely new. We've got you and David from the old team. That's a pretty good survival rate, considering." "I suppose so, sir," he agreed, but his tone was a clear rejection of her implied self-criticism, and she shook her head mentally.

  Bob Tomanaga's voice and face were as communicative as a printed message and it felt strange to always know precisely what he was thinking, but right now he meant what everyone meant whenever she let her guard down. No one else seemed to think the casualties might have been lighter... if only she'd been more clever.

  She put the thought aside and leaned back in her chair, considering her new staff. Aside from Reznick, now a lieutenant senior grade, whom she'd been determined to have, she hardly knew any of them, but Bob was right: they looked good.

  Her new ops officer, Commander Stravos Kollentai was small, slight, and arrogant--the perfect fighter jock--but his efficiency reports were excellent and he radiated an aura of almost oppressive energy and competence. Her astrogator, Lieutenant Commander Richard Heuss, was a [NSURRECTION quiet firstffltJw with fair hair and eyes like gray shutters. He said little, but his navigation was beautiful to see. And finally there was the new staff slot filled by Lieutenant Irene Jorgensen: battlegroup intelligence officer.

  Fleet had decided to remove the intelligence function from the ops officer's jurisdiction, which made sense, Han supposed, given the type of war they were fighting, but it felt strange to have the spooks speaking for themselves on the staff. On the other hand, the tall, scrawny lieutenant hid a lurking humor behind her muddy brown eyes and appeared to have a computer memory bank concealed somewhere about her unprepossessing anatomy.

  "Have the official orders come through yet, Admiral?" Tomanaga asked, breaking her train of thought.

  "Yes. Admiral Iskan will relieve me tomorrow and we'll move out to da Silva." Thank God.

  She'd been half-afraid the Admifralty would leave her here now that Cimmaron had been upgraded into what was clearly an admiral's billet even for the admiral-starved Republic.

  "I see." Tomanaga frowned. "Any word on our destination, sir?" "Not officially. But Fleet Ops whispered something about Rigel." "Rigel, sir?" Tomanaga blinked.

  "I think Fleet wants to keep an eye on Admiral Trevayne," Han said slowly, swinging her chair gently. "We're still not sure what happened, you know. I think someone's running a little scared over Zephrain RDS." "Stupid of them, sir, ff you'll forgive me," Tomanaga said.

  "Oh? And on what do you base that pronouncement, Commander?" "I don't think any 'mystery weapon" did in Admiral Ashigara, sir. The ops plan relied too much on surprise and ECM, and they screwed up when they tried a pincer. Alt it gave them was lousy coordination. That's why the diversion got chewed up when the main attack went wrong." "And how did it go wrong?" "I'm not certain," Tomanaga admitted, "but the survivors all agree BG 32 wasn't involved in the Gateway fighting till close to the end--so Trevayne mst've been busy destroying the carriers. But carriers are faster than monitors, and Admiral Ashigara's fighters had more firepower than BG 32, which means that somehow or other he spotted them despite their ECM and clobbered them before they launched. It's the only answer I can think of, sir." "So it was bad luck?" "Maybe," Tomanaga said, "but it was compounded by bad planning. They should've concentrated in Bonaparte and taken everything in through the new warp point to pin the defenders against the Gateway. Then we'd'ye had tactical command exercised in one place over only one force that could've withdrawn down a single wa line. As it was, both CO'S were out of contact and neither could cut and run as long as that might leave the other unsupporteda classic example of defeat in detail, triggerebleda by bad luck, but not caused by it." "You could be right," Hah admitted, for she'd pondered much the same thoughts herself. "But why not new weapons, as well?" "The time factor, sir. I don't care ff Trevayne is a special emissary from God Himself, it takes time to turn research into hardware.

  That's why we should hit them again nov0 immediately.

  Forget the border. We've got the Rump on the run; keep them there with feints and go. for Zephrain now, before they really do get new hardware on line." "I'm inclined to agree, Bob. Unhappily, grand strategy is the First Space Lord's job. And whether you're right or not, it makes sense to picket the old Rigelian and Arachnid systems, whatever the Rim is or isn't up to." "Agreed, sir, but a monitor battlegroup with carrier support is hardly a "picket." It's a vest-pocket task force, and one cut for a mighty big vest. We'd be better employed striking directly at Zephrain rather than worrying about what they may do to us." Tomanaga sounded unwontedly serious, even worried. "If we don't hit them pretty quick, we may find ourselves up against exactly what we're afraid of right now.

  Give Trevayne time to get the new systems on line, and..." He shrugged eloquently.

  "Consider your point made," Hah said softly.

  "Write up a staff appreciation and we'll sit on it long enough to see where they send us. If we wind up out near Rigel and we still agre you know what you're talking about, we'll up- date it and fire it off. Fair enough?" "Yes, sir." "Good. Meanwhile, tidy up here and we'll transfer out to Bernardo da Silva." "Yes, sir." Tomanaga leiSo, and Han frowned pensively down at the desk she would delightedly turn over to ('ack Iskan in two days, wishing she disagreed with her chief of staff.

  "Another day with nothing to report, sir." Tomanaga sounded disgusted. "I don't see why they're so damned mesmerized by the need to picket the Rim. Go in now and smash "em up fastmtake some casualties if we have to, but get it over with--and we won't need to scatter a quarter of our available strength out over the damned approaqhes." Hah tried and failed to imagine Tsing Chang unburdening himself with equal frankness. It was strange how well she got along with someone so different from Tsing. lust as strange as to remember that she'd once distrusted Tomanaga's enthusiasm.

  "Well, Bob, we've sent off your appreciation," she said calmly. "In fact, we've done everything we can short of taking it upon ourselves to attack single-handedly." suppose so, sir," Tomanaga agreed sourly, "but the are beginning to go stale." "I know." Battlegroup 24 had maintained its long, slow of the old Rigelian warp lines, with an occasional into dead Arachnid space, for almost five months without a sign of the enemy. They'd encountered a single Tangri battle-cruiser, but the horseheads had shown admirable restraint and declined to match themselves against monitors, two fleet carriers, two light carriers, and escort destroyers.

  Yet that very boredom had been a godsend for Hah, and she would have been the first to admit it.

  Patrol duty wasn't glamorous, but at least it let someone a bit skittish over reassuming a space command ease back into x. Her had faded as she grappled with her new responsibilities, and she could look in her mirror now and recognize herself again.

  "Well," she said finally, "let's find something to occupy them, then." She swiveled her chair down and frowned--comher equivalent of raging consternation--and tapped her terminal. "You've seen this from Shokaku?" "That freighter, sir?" The light carrier's recon fighters had found the remains of a freighter drifting erratically around the star Orpheus.

  "Yes. Does a
nything about it strike you as odd?" "You mean aside from what she was doing there to begin with?" "Exactly. There haven't been any inhabited planets in the Orpheus System since the Alliance dusted the Arachnids out eighty years ago. I suppose her skipper might'ye taken a short cut, but it's hard to believe anyone would try it unescorted this close to Tangri space." "But she's here, sir, and she was looted." "True," Han nodded. "But did you examine the passen- ger list Shokaku pulled out of her computers?" "Well, no, sir. Why?" "Yhey recovered the bodies of all twenty-five crewmen," Han said.