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Indomitable

Page 26

by W. C. Bauers


  Tell that to Senator Oman and her Neo-Isolationists and see if the woman doesn’t cream her skivvies.

  Mr. Bond was more than just her AI-assist, Bond was safe and reliable, her danger maker with a massive upside.

  Until she bought it, Bond remained a critical part of her armor, and extremely capable on its own. Still, there was no way Promise would ever trust Bond to cold-walk her armor. Marines just didn’t do it as a matter of principle. Her mechsuit was hers. Bond wasn’t even the copilot. An arm maybe, with mad killing skills. End of story.

  Promise reached the bottom stairs as the front door banged closed behind her. A blur of a dog bounded around her legs and across the grass.

  “Otis! Get back here.”

  She cupped her hands. “Captain, he’s friendly…”

  Captain Sasha Yates tried to sidestep the dog and ended up being knocked to the deck, facedown, instead. The first order Promise heard her CO give was a one-word scream.

  “Help!”

  Forty-one

  MAY 21ST, 92 A.E., STANDARD CALENDAR, 0922 HOURS

  REPUBLIC OF ALIGNED WORLDS PLANETARY CAPITAL—HOLD

  NEVERFAR MANOR

  “Otis, you filthy mongrel,” Promise shouted as she ran toward the captain. Pulling Otis off Yates proved impossible given his size. The slap on his backside did the trick. She hit him a lot harder than she’d intended to, which sent the beast yelping back toward the house and out of view.

  Yates rolled over, her hand over her eyes to block the sun. “Thanks a lot, Paen.” They weren’t in uniform but common courtesy still ruled the day and omitting Promise’s rank like that was at the very least rude. Still, Promise figured the captain had just been assaulted by a mongrel, so she cut Yates some slack.

  “Ma’am, I’m terribly sorry about this.”

  Yates ignored Promise’s hand and pulled herself up. Her clothes were stained with grass, mud, and drool. The fabric over her thigh was torn; the pants were a complete write-off. “I hope the bastard is happy.”

  “Lieutenant Paen.” Yates assessed her clothing with disgust. She looked upward and then at Great-Grans’s house before turning to face Promise. “It isn’t every day one gets invited to a general’s home. I had hoped to say hello.”

  This day can’t get any worse. Promise thought of several things to say in reply, and not one of them was going to defuse the situation.

  “Ma’am, I’ll replace your clothes. I must have left the door cracked open.”

  But that wasn’t what the captain was aiming for. Promise hadn’t even considered the setting they were in, and she should have. Had Grans? The wall of trees and the fortified home, the artillery piece and the car on the pad with the general’s last name on the rear plate—all of it spoke to the general’s war-hawkishness like a smartly canted beret. Otis had certainly made a statement. The grounds could not have been hotter.

  Captain, would you care to pick me up at Grans’s house on your way back to Mo Cavinaugh? Why hadn’t she seen it before? Great-Grans had made some calls and taken care of everything. Yes, the general certainly had. And Grans hadn’t come out to meet the captain either. That could only be taken one way. Yates was probably wondering how Promise had pulled it off in the first place. If she was trying to put the captain in her place by showing off a powerful benefactor, she’d just succeeded marvelously.

  Yates crossed her arms. “Do you have anything to say to me?”

  “Ma’am, my … I guess you’d call her my little sister … she needed a place to stay while we deploy. The general has plenty of space.” Carefully put, that. Promise made to say more and then realized she was probably better off leaving it at that.

  “Indeed.” Yates turned toward the aerodyne as a large cloud rolled across the sky and cast its shadow over them. A bird called from the trees and then another answered it. Yates opened the door and got in. “Coming?” Promise could see the gold in Yates’s eyes.

  “We have a tight schedule. We’ll talk on the way.” The aircar’s door slammed shut.

  Promise should have entered first as the junior officer present. She walked around the aircar and entered from the other side. As she settled into her seat, she felt the cold frame of her GLOCK press against her side. The general had insisted she bring it, much to her surprise.

  “Bring your senior with you,” Grans had said over the vid comm. Promise had contacted Granby about what to do with Sephora. She’d dialed and hung up three times before letting the comm go through, because asking the general for such a huge favor was outlandish, right? Yes, Granby had told her to reach out if she needed anything. Wasn’t that what people said in the moment? She had gone to hang up a fourth time when the general appeared on-screen and recognized her immediately.

  “Lieutenant Paen. This is a pleasant surprise. What brings you my way?”

  They’d talked a good five minutes about Promise’s career. The general was up to speed on a number of matters. Her recent vacation. Her near brush with death and detention on Kies Tourosphere. Her demotion, which was exactly what Granby had called it. They’d talked about Sephora, and the general hadn’t blinked. “Why don’t Roman and I take her in while you’re away? Get her on her feet until you return.” Then Grans mentioned her senior and told her not to show up without it.

  How did she know about that? Well, how did she know about the rest of my escapades? Great-Grans knows all.

  “Aye, aye, ma’am,” Promise said with a smile. “Gladly.”

  “My mother gave me my first weapon too,” Granby said. “Nothing like yours, though. When it comes to firearms, I’m always game for show-and-tell.”

  “I look forward to it, ma’am.”

  Now she was in an aircar with her new CO. Swapping stories and antique firearms with the general would have to wait for another time. Time. It always came down to that. Her GLOCK was in every way a weapon displaced by time, and as much as Promise cherished it, she was never quite at ease in its presence. She’d inherited the GLOCK as a child, though at the time she hadn’t known it. Quite suddenly, her mother fell ill, and by the following winter she was gone. Her death left Promise with an emotionally distant father, and a small box of things meant for her. Except her father hid the box in the attic and refused to talk about his pain. Years later, Promise found the GLOCK by accident while looking for something else. She recognized the rough-hewn trunk instantly. At the bottom she found her mother’s pistol.

  Her father went to his grave never knowing she’d found it. He was murdered during the raids on her homeworld, before the RAW Fleet Forces had neutralized the pirate threat operating in the sector. She ran to the Corps to start anew.

  The GLOCK was all Promise had left of her mother’s things. And to this day, it continued to steal her out of the present, either by displacing the present with memories of a past she’d just as soon forget, or by distracting her with questions about a future that would never be. A future with a mother.

  Stop wallowing in the past, P. Focus on the here, now. Focus on your new captain. She’s already angry enough with you.

  * * *

  They were now over water, more or less pointed toward Joint Spaceport Mo Cavinaugh, when Yates shifted in her seat. “I must confess, Lieutenant, I am at a bit of a loss for words. This situation is … unique. What am I supposed to do with the trenchant Lieutenant Promise Paen?”

  Trenchant? Promise hadn’t been called that before. She wasn’t even sure what the word meant. Impetuous? Yes, she’d been called that and honestly owned the word. Headstrong, prone to rush in? Yes, and yes. A Marine who preferred direct action. Yes, yes, and yes. But not …

  “You’re the savior of Montana,” Yates said, which only made matters worse. “A decorated Marine. Until recently, the CO of Victor Company. I was not privy to what happened prior to assuming command of Victor Company. I was only told to report for duty and that you’d be staying on as my XO.” Yates gave her a piercing look. “That about sum it up?”

  “Yes, Captain,” Pr
omise said.

  “What happened was classified.”

  Promise nodded.

  “But, I’m sure you have some thoughts on the matter. Off-record, of course.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Yates clicked her tongue. “Lieutenant, this isn’t going to work if we don’t get past simple yeses and noes. I know you can’t tell me some things but surely you can tell me something.”

  She was already in enough trouble with the RCIA. Talk now and she might inadvertently hand Agent McMaster another reason to come after her. Keep your mouth shut, P. No doubt the colonel wanted to get on with their mission instead of dealing with a pissing match between the Marine Corps and the intelligence community. He didn’t need a personality conflict between one of his company captains and that captain’s lieutenant. Now Halvorsen had both. His opinion of her was already dangling by a much-frayed thread.

  “I’ll understand if you don’t want me as your second-in-command,” Promise said a moment later. “I’ll ask the colonel for a transfer when we land.”

  They passed over a small peninsula and an old lighthouse. “I’ll think about it.”

  The aircar banked again and the cabin filled with the scent of saffron.

  “Taking the honorable way out, are we?” The voice was laced with maternal sarcasm. “In my book it’s called quitting. You are better than that, Lieutenant.” Promise’s mother, Sandra Paen, sat on the opposite bench in the cab, facing her and the captain. Sandra’s anger hit Promise cold, every bit as real as the captain’s. Sandra was dressed in plain clothes cut with taste, and her shirt, belt, and pants fit her contours perfectly.

  No, it’s not, Mother. It’s called bowing out with honor.

  “That’s total nonsense,” Sandra said. “You’ve made this mess, munchkin. Now fix it.”

  Just like that? Promise thought.

  Yes.

  Promise heard the one-word response in her head as clearly as if her mother had spoken to her aloud.

  “Apologies go a long way,” Sandra said. “You put the woman on the defensive. Really, munchkin, what did you expect? You could have just closed the door behind you. But no, you had to sic the dog on her.”

  “I did not.”

  Sandra crossed her arms and dared Promise to prove her wrong. “Just apologize, and be done with it.”

  Just … just …

  “Eventually, you’re going to take my advice and do the right thing anyway so you might as well do it now and spare yourself the trouble.”

  Stop using my sense of duty against me.

  Sandra faded out of view though her voice lingered a moment longer. Now she sounded like she was speaking through Promise’s mastoid implant. “That’s one of the things I love the most about you, dear. I’d like to think you got that from me.”

  Promise closed her eyes, felt dampness on her cheek, and quickly brushed it away. When she looked up, her mother was gone.

  “Ma’am, about that transfer. Perhaps I was—”

  Yates raised her hand. “Enough, Lieutenant. We’ve just met. Replacing you isn’t an option. Believe me, I tried.” Yates briefly turned toward her. “I’m not happy with the situation but as I see it we only have one option. Our duty.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Yates’s words yanked her up by the collar.

  “Borrowing trouble won’t improve the situation.”

  “No, ma’am. We have enough of that already.”

  Yates snorted. “Agreed.” Yates’s right hand tapped the armrest between them. “I need your candid advice, Lieutenant. I expect you to be honest and candid, nothing less, not now or ever. If you’re to be my XO you must back me to the hilt in public and speak your mind when we’re alone.”

  “Ma’am, in that case, the captain needs a new executive officer.”

  “Possibly.” Yates’s face became unreadable. “Is that your best advice? If it is I’m disappointed. You’re rattled and your jacket suggests you don’t do that easily. Under normal circumstances, I’d kill to get an officer of your caliber.”

  “And now, ma’am?”

  “For starters, I’d like to strangle the general’s mutt.”

  Promise turned to the window and the terrain below. They were flying high enough for her to notice how the roads followed the natural contours of the land. They flew over an orchard and a small lake, and a sailboat far from the shore. In the distance she could see the spaceport and the outlines of several dropships and smaller shuttles nestled in their bays. There was the tower. Her unit was waiting. No, not hers anymore. What would she say to her Marines, to Yates’s Marines? The situation seemed completely untenable, not to mention completely unfair. A transfer made sense. She could resign her commission. The odds of the Corps accepting that weren’t …

  “Ma’am, back at the house. I can only imagine what you must think of me. I’m afraid some of it is probably true.”

  Yates actually laughed. “Did you sic that four-legged bastard on me?”

  “I meant you no … well … I didn’t mean to … Ma’am, I was angry.” Promise threw her hands into the air. “I am angry. I’m grappling with a lot of changes in my life. I’m going to get my footing back, on my word as an officer, as your executive officer. You have my word.”

  Yates shifted in her seat toward Promise, eyes open and thoughtful. “Tell me, Lieutenant, what’s your read of this situation? I’ve just replaced the CO of Victor Company—you. Yet, you’re still here as my XO. How do you think our Marines are going to take that?”

  Ours. It was the olive branch Promise needed to snap out of it.

  “I screwed up, ma’am. It’s as simple as that. Battalion wants a seasoned company commander in charge of Victor Company. That officer isn’t me, at least not yet. Your Marines deserve to know the truth, at least that much.”

  “Just like that?”

  Promise spread her hands wide. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Do you always do your duty, Lieutenant?”

  That nearly did it. Lit her anger off like a chem torch.

  “I’ve struck a nerve.”

  Shut up, P.

  “Don’t agree with the powers that be, do you?”

  Keep it shut, Lieutenant. Just. Keep. It. Shut. Promise imagined shoving Yates out the door as they flew.

  “You must have really pissed someone off in a very high place. Been there, done that. I can relate. You’ll live, believe me.”

  “I’ll try, ma’am.”

  “Oh, Lieutenant, you’d pay for that one if I didn’t like you so much.”

  Promise laughed uncomfortably.

  “Lighten up, Promise. That was a joke.” Yates grabbed a bottle of water from the chiller at their feet and took a long drink. “Tell me, what do you know about counterinsurgency?”

  COIN? The non sequitur took Promise by surprise. “Honestly, not much, ma’am.” Asymmetrical warfare. Guerrilla tactics. Textbook definitions she could spout off, which wasn’t the same thing as real knowledge of the subject. COIN doctrine had been around for as long as people had been killing each other. The little guy’s way of fighting back. The sum of her knowledge came from a self-paced course on the nets, part of her degree in pre-Diaspora military conflict, from the University of Salerno. She’d earned that on her own time before being field-promoted to second lieutenant. Her brain wasn’t working particularly well at the moment, and it wasn’t calling up the dates and names and theories. At least she recalled the big takeaway. Direct engagement, shock and awe, swamping an enemy’s defenses with superior firepower—these were all ideas conventional forces understood well, and militaries throughout human history had trained for the wars they’d already fought with tactics they’d already mastered. The average jane or jack knew little else.

  “It’s not exactly covered at Officer Candidate School, ma’am. We tend to leave asymmetrical warfare to SPECOPS, or the spooks.”

  “That’s a vast understatement. We don’t teach our platoon commanders a lot of things in OCS, and then we send
them out to garrison the rim.”

  A small craft broke the sound barrier nearby.

  “I did a tour on Clear Harbor, which isn’t more than a jump from your homeworld.” Yates set the bottle of water in the nearby holder and folded her hands in her lap. “Harbor has a lot of problems for a rimworld. Poverty, crime, and lawlessness in the outer provinces. Those we expected, particularly in the first decade or two post-incorporation. The homegrown terrorists were bent on stalling incorporation, or killing it altogether. Thankfully, they weren’t very organized. I was a green lieutenant when my battalion hit Harbor’s atmo, and then deployed to Forward Operating Base Nautilus. We stayed the longest five and half months of my career. We lost several dozen boots to improvised explosives and we were wearing mechsuits. One of my sergeants stepped on one. There wasn’t much left to send home to his wife and child. A young boy walked up to my checkpoint and refused to turn around. I had him in my sights for several mikes when his jaw clenched and he bolted toward us. I didn’t have a choice.”

  The thought of killing a child rattled Promise to her core.

  “Lieutenant, they were all dressed the same, like every other citizen of the planet. Women, men, and even children. They struck our blind spots during patrols and disappeared into the markets. They hid behind innocents and took refuge in holy places. It was not conventional and it wasn’t fair and to some degree that’s what we’re headed for on Sheol. Sheol doesn’t have the population centers of Harbor.” Yates looked down the bridge of her nose. “Be grateful for that. But it does have mines to protect, and it has the terrorists and they won’t hesitate to strike from the shadows. I’m assuming command of Victor Company because of my experience on Harbor. Battalion wants someone with on-the-ground experience dealing with terrorist scum like the Greys. That’s the official line and I expect you to toe it. I’m not letting you off easy. I won’t embarrass you or throw you under the track in front of the unit either. You’re a RAW-MC officer and my XO, and I expect you to do your duty, unless you prove you are unfit for the post. Then I will relieve you of it. Have I made myself clear?”

 

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