Dark Edge of Honor

by Aleksandr Voinov

  Firsthand accounts. He certainly had that. “I’ll do my best to help.”

  He wanted to tell Nikishin everything, but that was a dangerous proposition. The man would ask why the general had attempted to have him killed. They’d want to know why the others had killed themselves too. At this point, it wasn’t just about his own life and health. He needed to find a solution to that problem—to punish the general without ruining himself in the process.

  And find Mike. He needed to know. He couldn’t just go on with life without ever knowing.

  “You’re willing to let me grill you, then? Pick your brain? Sometimes it’s the details that you think unimportant that end up being the crucial pieces to the puzzle.” Nikishin’s gaze played over Sergei yet again, lingering on his right arm a little too long.

  “Of course.” Sergei remembered well how unsettled Nikishin had been by the arm and leg that day. Then, it had made him sneer inwardly, but it was difficult to maintain that derision since he began to like the man. Trust him even. And that could be dangerous enough, laws being what they were, Nikishin being who he was. Never mind that any normal individual would be revolted by Sergei’s current physical state, and justifiably so. Cyborg patchwork over mangled flesh. The pinnacle of attractive. He’d always been different, a freak. Now it was just visible. Impossible to hide.

  The lieutenant glanced at the benign darkness of the pad a few inches away and flashed a grin. “Tell me your first impressions of the general.”

  “I thought he was stern, dutiful. Not very emotional, but that’s not a bad thing in his position. I guess…I felt motivated to not make mistakes.” Sergei smiled. “But I’m not sure what I wrote in my mails to my family.” If anything. He might have mentioned something in his messages to Alina, but couldn’t remember exactly what. Had Nikishin found anything incriminating there?

  “So he seemed professional. Did you ever witness him doing anything outside the parameters of his position? Extraneous activities of some fashion. Everyone should have a hobby.”

  “I don’t believe he has.” Paragon of virtue. Everything for duty. Women, alcohol, drugs…nothing. No pet, no hobby outside duty and maintenance. Maybe that was how he’d hidden for so long. “Or he might be doing it when nobody witnesses.”

  “As his assistant, you spent more time in his direct proximity than anyone else. How often was he out of your sight?”

  “When he went back to Liberty recently. After and before duty, most days. He’s never spoken about any great passions or interests of his.”

  “Yes, I’ve documentation of his trip to Liberty and his activities and movements during that time. Did anything stand out when he returned?”

  “Nothing apart from renewed determination to take the fight into the mountains. He brought the timeline forward a week.”

  “And put you in the hottest spot. That’s what Alina said. Highly unusual. Did he give you any justification for that decision? Or the accelerated timetable?”

  “No. He thought it could be done. He said it would give me an opportunity to win my spurs. Maybe he felt it was time for assistant number sixteen?”

  Nikishin’s brows twitched. “What makes you say that? Did you feel he was in some way dissatisfied with your performance? You’ve hardly been with him very long. Only assigned to serve him, what? Three months prior to deployment?”

  “Yes.” Sergei inhaled deeply. He was getting close to confessing. He wanted to. He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, had spent too much time thinking recently, felt it all build up in him, where it had begun to fester. “He was dissatisfied with my desire for G12 approval.”

  “Dissatisfied?”

  “He seemed aggressive, even though he approved it.” Sergei rubbed his throat, remembering that night only too vividly.

  “Seemed aggressive?” The lieutenant’s gaze followed Sergei’s hand to his neck. “Or was aggressive?”

  Sergei felt keenly he was moving closer to the edge. Hoping, strangely, that Nikishin would catch him when he fell, but Revisionists were the most devoted followers of the Doctrine. Not unlikely that Nikishin would have him arrested first and then the general. The disgrace would be hard to bear. He suddenly understood the suicides. It did seem like the cleanest, most honorable way out. “Was aggressive.”

  Nikishin went very still. A beat of silence passed. He spread his hands on the surface of the dining table, stared down at his splayed fingers. “‘Brother shall not raise hand against brother.’” He looked up at Sergei then with a faint smile of reassurance. “As your superior, the general was in a position of great responsibility. The temptation to influence, manipulate, is strong. Subliminally, subconsciously. But ultimately, he must answer for any illicit behaviors he engaged in, however inconsequential they may seem.”

  He glanced around the dining hall, then back at Sergei. “I think perhaps we should take this discussion somewhere more private. And then maybe we can start back at the beginning and go through this in greater depth? I feel like I’m missing some crucial details.”

  Yes you are, Sergei thought as he stood. “Maybe the cabins? You would have been assigned the larger one, I guess?”

  Nikishin’s laugh was a deep sound, low and soft. “I believe so. It even has some liquid amenities you might find useful. The ship’s captain supplied me with a few bottles from his private stock.” He collected his still-dark pad, tucked it into his elbow and led the way out of the dining hall.

  Sergei trailed after him, debating the pros and cons of having a drink. It would definitely help with his nerves. He squinted, studying the man’s lines. Wondered if Mike would’ve looked similar in a Doctrine uniform.

  And that was a dangerous thought, let alone painful. Yes, the coloring and build were similar, but where one was forbidden goods, the other was as far removed as the moon. And he, with his surrogate limbs and how Nikishin had reacted to the sight of them…Was the man making him feel more at ease, using Revision psychological tricks? And why was he having those thoughts—or, if Nikishin’s actions were innocent, was he, Sergei, a threat to the Revisionist? Would Nikishin get into trouble for having been in the same room with him, alone, when he was what he was, and once he’d been found out and convicted?

  The cabin was a fair bit larger than his—it even boasted an area with stuffed chairs around a table. A large bed and a smaller one, marking it a cabin for a small family.

  He sat, waited for Nikishin to pour drinks and settle. The lieutenant set his pad on the table, nudged it, then retrieved a pair of glasses and a bottle from a sealed cabinet.

  “Mulberry wine, the captain tells me. A little stronger than most, but goes down rather smoothly.” He poured Sergei a full glass, pushing it across the table toward him, and splashed a bit in the second. Barely a finger. He angled his chair and settled into it, undoing a few buttons on his jacket, revealing the collar of a black undershirt. “Let’s start back at the beginning, or near enough to it. I want to understand why the general would react aggressively, would retaliate so violently, to your filing a G12. Before you begin though, I want you to understand something.”

  Sergei nodded slowly, shifted in his chair. His prostheses felt heavy, cumbersome, and he glanced down to track the movement of his right arm while he settled the limb on the arm of the chair.

  Nikishin fiddled with his glass, all but empty even though he hadn’t touched the alcohol, twisting the stem and sloshing the dark burgundy liquid up the sides. “As the superior officer, it is your general’s responsibility to bear the brunt of any consequences that would result from your interactions with him. Being a subordinate, it is not expected of you to have to tell him no for any reason. You are an extension of him, yes? That’s why, when a general’s assistant falls in battle, it is the general who receives the merit awards and valor medals.”

  Sergei nodded again and, despite knowing better, drained a third of the glass. The rich fruity flavor reminded him of summer—even this far away, in the darkness and cold of space. Maybe, maybe
he could save himself in all of this. Nikishin had told him he’d be judged less harshly. But what if I committed a crime? I’m complicit. I trusted and was betrayed. It was my defect and crime that opened the door to corruption.

  “As part of my duties, he required me to be the receptive part in homosexual intercourse.” Sergei drained the second third, felt it relaxing his muscles. “It became his habit, when we were outside the barracks and the…layout of the quarters allowed this without him having to fear witnesses.” He didn’t look at anything, couldn’t look at Nikishin. Just the dark liquid in the glass. Last third. The bottle was there, sloshing more liquid into the glass. Only halfway this time, but Sergei was still grateful for the plausible deniability.

  “And this was why he reacted the way he did, then? To your G12? You wanted it to stop.” Nikishin lifted his glass, took a small sip. “If it’s any consolation, Sergei, I doubt you were the first.”

  “No, I realized that.” Sergei glanced up. “And yes. I thought it was a way to tell him I wasn’t…interested.” He could leave Mike out of all this. His own desires. He’d be just a victim, and he might come out of it unscathed. He might just be able to hide forever. Especially if he married and never came to the Revision’s attentions again.

  “Explain the time frames to me. You informed him of your intent to file the G12. When did he deploy you as battalion commander?”

  “Afterward. The next day he was markedly cooler. The night before, he strangled me.” Sergei drank more, because that way he could push it all to the alcohol. Numb his brain, like that other operation had been done with a numbed brain. Small mercies. “He could have killed me then.” And he got off on that.

  Nikishin sat still and silent, digesting Sergei’s words while he downed the remaining contents in his glass. “Strangled you. He left marks?”

  “Yes. People commented on them.” Mike.

  “Witnesses, then. Rather careless of him.” Nikishin took another sip. “Anyone I can get statements from would be helpful.”

  “The battalion’s translator, Mike.” Now Mike was part of the picture. Maybe he should have left him out of it, but maybe that increased the urgency to locate him. If Mike kept playing his role, he’d be safe. Wherever he was. Somewhere on Cirokko. Reason enough to return. So he’d know. Sergei stopped drinking, suspected he’d need the rest of his senses to deal with what would come next.

  “Ah, yes. I recall Alina mentioning him. Saved your life, she said. Her concern over not being able to locate him was one of the main triggers for this investigation, from what I’ve gathered. Not the official story, mind you.” Nikishin smiled when Sergei glanced up at him, briefly, startled, before looking away. “The translator deployed with you. Can you tell me about what happened? Do you have any intel on that particular valley, or why the general chose it? All I’ve been able to determine is that Zasidka Pass was the site where the previous Doctrine expedition force was overrun.”

  “That is really most of the story…we were supposed to build a base camp, but we didn’t have drones or air support. That proved fatal when we were attacked from the air. It seems Cirokko is home to an indigenous species of intelligent lizards capable of flight, and they’ve joined forces with the natives. The claws and bite cause rapidly developing gas gangrene and blood poisoning. They were upon us in swarms, coordinated. It took them two nights to finish us off. I was taken prisoner.”

  “He sent the battalion into the valley, aware of the previous incident, and failed to provide ready air support. Deliberate negligence. Much too obvious.” The man’s grin would’ve been benign, perhaps even friendly, if taken out of context. “The general is getting sloppy. Overconfident in covering his tracks.”

  “I think he feared I might blackmail him with what I knew about…his tastes. The G12 may have convinced him that I’m…normal.” It would have probably been easier to keep him under his thumb if he hadn’t been. Easier to control. If not for Mike, this might have turned out very differently. Even workable, for both of them. Before Mike, he’d assumed this could have worked. Could have been all he’d ever got from a brother comrade.

  “Ah.” Nikishin tapped his glass against the table, the steady thunk an ominous rhythm in the silence. “And are you? Normal?”

  Last chance to escape. Sergei swallowed hard. “No.”

  “And have you ever engaged in such relationships with your brother soldiers in the past?”

  “They hardly…qualified as relationships.” Sergei shook his head, knew he was condemned and had hung himself, caught like a rabbit, slowly strangling himself now. “Just…quick releases, always afraid, always ashamed, always angry.” He smiled, half tired, half cynical. “I just want to bring that bastard down. I…” He looked up, briefly, into Nikishin’s face. “When I’m done, I’ll plead guilty and accept whatever punishment I deserve. But the general has to fall.”

  “I doubt the level of sacrifice you imply will be necessary.” Nikishin sounded both amused and dryly sarcastic. The glass thunked on the table a few more times, a different rhythm. “No question, though, about the general. Not with what has been collated from those individuals still alive to give the details of their accounts.”

  Sergei held the glass on his thigh, out of reach of the bottle. Not completely clearheaded anymore, and he wondered if his pills and the recent operation had anything to do with that. Of course, he didn’t have quite as much tissue to metabolize anymore and the biochemistry of his body had been adapted to deal with the weaving of the new limbs.

  Nikishin’s calm acceptance of his failings struck him. Was the man just keeping quiet because knowing this could harm his aunt? Or blackmail him, later? He didn’t like second-guessing, asking what was behind the facade. Very often, he felt he didn’t actually want to know. He didn’t want to stretch his luck by asking Nikishin outright. He shouldn’t be curious and should just thank his luck that the Revision officer apparently didn’t think it very important. Maybe they dealt with the big crimes first and the smaller ones later, when he wrapped up his case.

  “I’m in your hand. I just want the general punished…and Mike…I want to know what happened to him.”

  I love you too much.

  Mike’d said it to make him give up his password, break down the last vestiges of his resistance. Under those circumstances, the words didn’t mean a thing. Anger surged at this, a wave of bitterness he didn’t know how to swallow. But it had felt so real. Still did. And then, after the friendly-fire incident? Mike had cut his chest open to relieve the collapsed right lung, helped him to breathe. Been there, held him. That might not have been love, just compassion, just clearheaded response, but it felt like it now. Spy, saboteur and manipulator, but he’d saved his life.

  He was clutching at straws.

  When it came down to it, Mike had saved his life. That was why Nikishin had to find him. Maybe Mike would get home, and Sergei…would take whatever came. His first priority was seeing the general go down in flames.

  Nikishin was watching him. Eyes somber, aware, like they could see the thoughts broiling in his head. The lieutenant nodded, spinning the liquid still pooled in the bottom of his glass without looking at it. “We’ll find him. One way or another.”

  “Thank you.” Sergei relaxed back into the chair, felt it adjust to him, the right side lagging behind as if the microprocessor couldn’t decide whether the occupant was human—requiring it to be softer—or object, requiring more resistance. Sergei almost chuckled. These days, he wasn’t quite sure himself.

  “I know what you’re worried about.” Nikishin finally looked away, lifting his glass, staring down into the meager liquid in the bottom. “Under different circumstances, it might be an issue. Might.” His dark gaze bored into Sergei, pinning him beneath the intensity. “Given the general’s predilections, however, your related infractions are minor. And of no interest to this investigation.” He tossed back the contents of his glass, humming with appreciation as he set it back on the table. “Hopefully that�
�s enough to set your mind at ease and keep you from hindering my efforts to uncover everything. Without reservations.”

  Total honesty in return for a pardon. For the eye of the state to look a different way. On that count. What of the others, though?

  “It does.” Sergei wiped his face with his left hand, surprised it didn’t come away wet with sweat. “It does, Lieutenant. I’ll follow the Doctrine in everything else.” Because straying from the path had only led to a lot of pain. And betrayal. He shook his head. “I should take my leave. I better sleep before we make planetfall tomorrow.”

  “Yes.” Nikishin offered a faint smile and rose. “It’s not likely to be pleasant, once we do. I intend to get as much sleep in an actual bed as I can manage, myself.”

  Sergei followed him to the door. “Greatest skill I acquired as a soldier. Sleep on the push of a button.” He realized he was standing close enough that he could have touched Nikishin, and that he stood with his left side forward, keeping the machine parts farther away from the man. Strange. “I feel much better now. Rest well, Brother Lieutenant.”

  The lie slipped out so easily.

  “And the same to you, Brother Captain. Things are going to get interesting, I don’t doubt.” Nikishin’s grin had a wicked slant to it, as he eased back a half step. Not moving away so much as giving Sergei the space to get out the door comfortably. Without feeling crowded. Without having to worry about minor miscalculations in his right side.

  Sergei wasn’t stumbling into the walls anymore, for which he was thankful, but cutting short the therapy period meant there were times—especially when he was tired—when his limbs just didn’t respond the way he expected them to. The alcohol certainly didn’t help matters.

  He knew Nikishin’s intention was to put him at ease and thus gain his full cooperation in the investigation. It wasn’t that easy, though. The Revisionist might be able to negate the consequences of Sergei’s extracurricular interests, to keep the brother general’s taint off him. But there would be no forgiveness for being exposed as a traitor. For being the true reason why the brother general’s troops failed to take and hold Zasidka Pass, this time around.