by Mel Odom
Whitcomb hesitated for a moment, as if caught off guard by the statement. “My apologies, Quass. My duties necessitated my presence here.”
“Perhaps next year, then.”
Realizing how Quass Leghef was going to guide the general to the bargaining table, Halladay had to restrain a smile.
“I don’t know if that will be possible,” Whitcomb said.
That reply surprised Halladay. Although Whitcomb was pretty much ROAD—retired on active duty—these days, Halladay knew the man didn’t actually retire for another three years.
“Is that so?” Leghef asked.
“I don’t believe I’ll be here next year,” Whitcomb said.
“You’ll be moving on, then?”
“It looks as though that will happen.” Whitcomb smiled a little then, more smug than Halladay had ever seen. “In fact, the fort will probably be closing down in the next few months.”
Shocked, Halladay barely managed to keep himself in check. Whatever orders Whitcomb had received about the fort’s closure should have crossed his desk. He resisted asking any of the questions that flooded his mind.
“I realize this probably comes as a surprise to Colonel Halladay,” Whitcomb said. “I hadn’t had the chance to talk to him about the matter. It only recently became a possibility. Major Finkley, I believe you know him?”
The corners of Quass Leghef’s mouth turned down in distaste. “We have met.”
“Finkley is an outstanding soldier,” Whitcomb said. “His father is the congressional chairman attached to the committee overseeing the Terran military’s defensive posture on Makaum.” The general leaned back in his chair. “Chairman Finkley is convinced that military resources on Makaum are being wasted and can be better utilized somewhere else.”
If she was surprised, and Halladay realized then that he thought the woman might not have been, Quass Leghef gave no sign of it. “Makaum has been supplying resources for your war with the Phrenorians.”
“This planet has also been supplying them to the Phrenorians.”
“We have a non-partisan stance, General.”
“I know, and all that fence-sitting has proved troublesome to the military in the past. Now it’s reached the point of diminishing returns. Chairman Finkley is on the verge of pushing the matter to a vote. Once that happens—and it will—the Terran military here will close up shop and be gone.”
Halladay couldn’t help himself. “If the general will allow me to speak freely.”
Whitcomb looked up at him. “Permission granted, Colonel, but only to get this argument over now. You’re going to be wasting your breath.”
“Sir, we can’t just leave these people here. The Phrenorians are pushing in toward this star system direction. We need to hold this planet. Makaum can become a stronghold for our future operations.”
“That’s not how Chairman Finkley sees it.” Whitcomb turned and gestured to the wallscreen showing Makaum hanging in space. “The planet had only a limited amount of time to choose who it would support when push came to shove.”
“My people don’t want to be involved in your war,” Leghef said.
Whitcomb clasped his hands and leaned his forearms on the desk. “Your people never had a choice about that. The Phrenorians won’t allow it. We tried to make that clear to you. We tried to make that transition as easy as possible, but that has been beyond our control. Instead of being supportive of my soldiers on the ground down there, your people have attacked them on more than one occasion. In fact, the last attack happened only this morning.” The general punched his desktop PAD.
The image of Makaum spinning below the space station blinked out of existence and was replaced with vid of the attack against Jahup and Tanest in the sprawl.
Halladay had watched the footage on the way up to the space station.
Whitcomb tapped the PAD again and the image froze at the point where Jahup took a hit from behind with a blast of roiling fire.
“In addition to the thieves, drug dealers, weapons merchants, and all manner of other transients my soldiers have had to deal with,” Whitcomb said in a voice that grew steadily louder, “they’re continuing to be endangered by your people. The people who we’re supposed to be protecting!”
Leghef met the general’s gaze and held it. She spoke in a cold, clear voice. “In point of fact, General, the soldiers in that vid are my people. One of them is my grandson. Both of them are young people barely into their adulthood. I watched them grow up and now I have to sit by and hope they live through each day they serve in your ranks.”
Whitcomb shot a glance at Halladay for confirmation.
The colonel nodded. “Yes sir. What the Quass says is true. Those soldiers who were attacked this morning are both Makaum volunteers.”
The Quass didn’t back down. “Volunteers, General. In your war. You won’t find any of our young people fighting for the Phrenorians. As I understand it, the ranks of Makaum youth within your soldiers have continued to increase. We are not ready to sign on with your war, but we are not stopping those who wish to participate. Our young people have made a difference for your command.”
Whitcomb worked his jaw muscles and his eyes blazed with unspoken rage. “It’s too little, too late. The Makaum Oversight Committee will make its decision in the next few days, but the verdict is foregone. It’s out of my hands.”
Anger burned in Halladay. He knew he’d been shut out, and Whitcomb had used Major Finkley to get to his father. It wasn’t the Terran Alliance leaving Makaum. It was the general.
Quass Leghef remained surprisingly calm, but Halladay could “feel” her as well and knew that she barely contained her venom. “Then, in light of your certainty that my people are to be abandoned and left for the Phrenorians, I demand relocation for them.”
Whitcomb blinked in consternation, then narrowed his gaze in a silent accusation. “What?”
“My people claim asylum with the Terran Alliance. According to the terms of our agreement with the Alliance, you have to agree to that.”
TWELVE
Med Center
Fort York
1227 Hours Zulu Time
Struggling against nightmares mixed with his childhood memories of Sombra de la Montaña and the loss of his legs on Nogdria 7, Sage blinked awake and fought the narcotic haze of the meds that tried to drag him back under. As he raised his right arm and reached across his body, it felt heavy, like it had been filled with plascrete. Ignoring the numbness in his fingertips making it hard to grip the IV running to his left arm, he closed a fist around the lines.
Med machinery bleeped around him, but not all of it was attached to him. There was an emergency going on somewhere else in the med center and those alarms resonated farther away. He took a breath, struggled at the brink of unconsciousness, and focused on the lights above him.
A uniformed nurse appeared at his bedside and tried to tug Sage’s arm away from the IV. The nurse was young and determined, and he was strong enough to make getting out of the bed difficult.
“Master Sergeant! Master Sergeant! Let go of the IV!”
“Nurse.” Sage’s voice sounded strange to him, and his tongue felt thick and dry. “Unless you want to end up bruised, embarrassed, and regretting your present course of action, you’ll let go of my arm.”
Startled, the young man let go of Sage’s arm but stayed close. “My orders are to keep you sedated so you can heal.”
“I’m countermanding those orders.”
“Captain Gilbride—”
“Isn’t here right now. I am.” Sage yanked the IV out of his arm and felt a sharp, fierce bite as the needle and adhesive tape tore free. “And if the captain was here, I’d be having words with him. I’ve got soldiers to tend to.”
He swung around and put his feet on the floor. Head spinning, he paused and blinked, then clutched the bed. He wasn’t sure if the dizziness was a result of the meds or injuries he’d sustained.
Gilbride, looking more disheveled than he had
earlier, entered the room and stopped a few meters away. “You’re not going to be helping them if you get up and fall on your face,” he announced.
Sage stood. The military had taught him to do that for over twenty years. His balance swayed inside his head for just a moment, then evened out. He was tired, and fatigue was something he could deal with. “I’m fine. It’s the meds. They’ll pass.”
Gilbride removed a penflash from his pocket and stepped forward. He peeled one of Sage’s eyelids back and shone the light into his eye. “You’re concussed.”
“I’ve been concussed before. It won’t kill me.”
“Not yet. But you keep taking damage like this, you’re going to end up with neurological problems.”
“I’ll be careful.”
Gilbride flicked off the penflash and put it away. He sighed. “Outside of having you tranked, is there any way I can get you to stay in bed longer?”
Sage wanted to be up and moving. There was too much to do, too many things that could go wrong at any moment. “No.”
Gilbride shook his head. “The colonel wants you to rest.”
Sage rolled his neck, felt the dizziness slide from one side of his head to the other with that familiar twisting sickness, and maintained his standing posture through an effort of will. It wasn’t the first time he’d been concussed, and this wasn’t the worst. He masked his feelings as best as he could. “The colonel needs me in the field. This place is a powder keg. How long was I out?”
“A few hours. Should have been more. I’ll know next time to dose you heavier.”
Looking around, Sage asked, “Where is my suit? My armor? My weapon?”
Gilbride nodded to the nurse and the young man hurried from the room. “We’ll have them for you in a moment.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “Maybe it’s good that you’re up. I’m going to need the bed space.”
That caught Sage’s attention. “What happened?”
Gilbride made notations on his PAD. “Civil unrest in the streets, and it looks like it’s going to get worse. Do me a favor before you leave, Master Sergeant.”
“I’m not much in the mood for doing favors for you after this morning.”
“You’ll thank me later. Those few hours you slept could be all you get for a while. Things have been happening since you’ve been in bed.”
“What things?”
The male nurse returned with a cart bearing Sage’s clothing, armor, and weapons. Sage checked everything over automatically, satisfied that his equipment was there and in working order.
Gilbride looked grim. “Jahup’s in surgery.”
The news turned Sage’s blood cold. He didn’t want anything to happen to the boy, and yet he’d been responsible for sticking him out there on the line where he could be hurt. Then he pushed that out of his mind. Jahup hadn’t been a boy for a long time, not since he’d started hunting to provide meat for his people.
“How is he?” Sage asked.
“I think he’s going to be fine. He was attacked and he got locked in his suit. The armor protected him from the worst of it. He’s got some first-degree burns that I’m treating him for. They had to cut him out of the suit. By the time they opened it up, he’d asphyxiated. I don’t think he was without oxygen more than a couple minutes.”
A couple minutes. Sage thought about the time, knowing that a human brain could hold its own for four minutes without oxygen. Under most conditions. But he’d seen soldiers die in less time too.
“He hasn’t come around yet,” Gilbride said. “He’s in a coma. I’m not trying to bring him out of that until we’ve finished with him and he gets some recovery time.”
Sage shook his head. “What do you want me to do? You know more about his situation than I do.”
“His girlfriend is out there, waiting to see what happens. She’s alone and I don’t think she needs to be. She had to kill one of the locals to save Jahup. From what I’ve heard, she knew the man. I thought maybe you could give her a few minutes.”
Sage pulled his uniform on, not even thinking about his nudity in the small space. His mind focused on Jahup and Noojin. Then another thought struck him. “Okay. Has anyone told Jahup’s grandmother? She could be there for the girl.”
Gilbride hesitated. “Quass Leghef is visiting General Whitcomb.”
“Why?”
“I’m not privy to that.”
Sage cinched his pants and reached for his armor. “Does the colonel know?”
“Colonel Halladay went with her.”
Sage ran his hands along the bottom of the hardsuit and locked everything into place around him. Someone had taken the time to clean the armor, but it still showed wear and tear from last night’s battle. He’d have to see to that soon.
He pulled his thoughts away from whatever it was Halladay and Leghef were doing. There wasn’t anything he could do with that at the moment.
Finished dressing, he magnetically adhered his helmet to his hip and logged back on to the active board. He checked Kiwanuka’s status and discovered she was at the fort, no longer patrolling the street. He pinged her comm but a communications tech picked up.
“Sergeant Kiwanuka is engaged and can’t be interrupted at the moment,” a polite male voice said.
“This is Sage.”
“Can I help you, Master Sergeant?”
“What’s Sergeant Kiwanuka doing?”
“Interrogating a prisoner.”
There was nothing posted about a prisoner. “What prisoner?”
“A smuggler she picked up at the Styx Spaceport a few minutes ago.”
“Roger that.”
“I can interrupt her if you need her, Master Sergeant Sage.”
“No. I’ll leave a message on her comm.” Sage broke the connection and turned his attention to Gilbride. “Thanks, Doc.”
Gilbride nodded. “My pleasure. But seriously, Master Sergeant, if you notice anything out of line, anything that’s bothering you, let me know the minute you do. The med suite on your suit can’t do everything.”
“I will.” With the suit’s assistance, Sage walked easier, but he was more aware of that assistance than he was normally.
At the end of the hallway outside surgery, Noojin sat alone in a chair. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her elbows rested on her knees so that she was partially doubled over.
For a moment, Sage stood there and stared at her, thinking how young she was, how young Jahup was. And both of them were caught up in the Phrenorian War threatening Makaum. Even though Jahup had been injured by a local, that violence had spun out of the Terran-Phrenorian aggression.
Everybody in the middle got squeezed. That was something Sage’s father had mentioned on more than one occasion, and he’d been talking about life on the mountain as well as the war against the Phrenorians.
But this time, these people got squeezed because of what I started. Guilt stung Sage and he struggled to put it aside.
As if she sensed him there, Noojin looked up and locked eyes with Sage. Tears tracked her cheeks and she looked haunted. She brushed away her tears and straightened her face.
Feeling inadequate, wishing Kiwanuka was there instead of him because she would probably better know the things to say and do, Sage went forward. He was used to dealing with soldiers, not teenage girls. Some of the female soldiers he’d trained hadn’t been much older than Noojin when they’d arrived at boot camp, but even a couple years’ difference was huge.
And the female soldiers had chosen to become military personnel. They’d had training. Noojin had had the situation thrust upon her.
Sage gazed at the chair beside Noojin.
“Would you mind some company?” he asked.
She shrugged. “You can sit if you’d like.”
It wasn’t exactly a gracious invitation, but Sage sat. He held himself straight, not wanting to lean forward and chance the dizziness returning.
Noojin glared at him, as if she were upset he wasn’t more damaged. “I tho
ught you were hurt.”
“The doc was being extra careful with me,” Sage said. “Gilbride likes to make sure things turn out all right.” He paused uncertainly. “I’m fine. In case you were asking.”
“That’s good.” Noojin rubbed at her eyes. “You’ve heard about Jahup?”
“I have. He’s in good hands.”
“He got burned and locked in his suit. He wasn’t breathing.”
“He’s breathing now, and he’s going to be fine.”
Noojin searched his face. “You believe that?”
“I do. And Gilbride promised me Jahup will be good as new.” Sage paused, hoping he hadn’t just lied to the girl. “The report says you saved him.”
She shook her head. “Do you know what saving Jahup meant?”
“It means he lived.”
“It means I had to kill an old man who was not even truly himself anymore.” Noojin’s voice grew tense and cracked. She stared at the floor between her scuffed boots. “Oeldo’s mind was going. Old age was taking him away, and he was destroying what was left with offworlder drink.”
“He doesn’t sound like the kind of guy who would attack Jahup and Tanest on his own.”
“No, Oeldo was put up to the attack by Throzath.”
Sage thought the name sounded familiar but couldn’t place it. None of that had been in the reports he’d seen so far.
“Throzath is Quass Tholak’s oldest son,” Noojin added. “Tholak is against all offworlder presence on Makaum.”
Sage remembered the man from his and Halladay’s talk with Quass Leghef regarding the attack on Fort York. Tholak had struck Sage as a grim and hard man who wouldn’t dissuade easily. “You think this came from Tholak?”
For a moment, Noojin made no reply. Nurses hurried by in both directions, all of them looking exhausted, and a maintenance robot zipped noisily by and left a freshly scrubbed floor in its wake.
“I don’t know,” Noojin answered. “Things . . . things have gotten confusing.” She took a breath. “I quit the Makaum corps among your soldiers because I thought Jahup was wrong thinking siding with your people is the only way we’re going to get out of this safely.”
