"Deto! I was just about to blast it when you fired." It was Dragon, suddenly there, lowering his E. "Are you ready to leave yet? My passengers are getting downright cranky."
"Yeah, let's go," I said. "You're going to get court-martialed for disobeying orders."
"So are you!"
Chapter 19
Reckless Disregard
"We did it, Thinker! We did it!" Dragon ripped his helmet off and gave me a wild grin. He was sweating but clearly overjoyed. We were all crammed into the Kiss, all twenty-nine Taka, eight Outworlder evacuees and eleven squadies. It was so crowded we could barely move but I loved it. We were on max power, bursting free of Mantis's grav and leaping for the vac. Moontouch was in my arms and that little monkey kid was in hers, still covered with glistening black cooking oil, clinging to her desperately. Salvation!
"You crazy bastard," Redhawk called out from the cockpit. "The O's had us in their sights the whole time you were in there! The laser rangefinders were screeching all over our sensors! They never did fire and I sure don't know why!"
"What happened to the Legion attack?" I asked.
"It never happened!" Redhawk replied. "Who the hell knows why? Take a look at the O fleet!"
"Thank you, thank you, thank you! May Deadman bless you all!" A young Outworlder girl kissed me tenderly right on the forehead.
I craned my neck to get a look at the tacscreen. When I had last seen it, the planet was ringed with a huge fleet of O ships. Now the dusty red spots were much fewer—where were they? Where were all the O ships?
"What happened, Redhawk? What happened to all their ships? Did the Legion attack?"
"That's a twelve, Thinker. There was no attack. H-hour came and went and we were floating there sweating bullets in front of that Omni hive. Nothing happened. But, as you can see, the O fleet is evacing—they're fleeing. They were launching all their downside ships while we were waiting for you to quit screwing around. I've no idea why." Even as I watched, more O ships were ripping holes in the vac, initiating stardrive.
"They must have been alerted to our attack!"
"But there was no attack! If there had been, we'd all be dead, man!"
"But they're getting away! The whole fleet! The whole idea was to catch them napping! We were going to annihilate the whole fleet!"
"Well, I guess it didn't work!" Redhawk said.
"It's crazy! This was our one chance—to get the whole fleet! What the hell is Fleetcom doing?"
"Count your blessings, Three. We're all alive, and on our way to the rendezvous point."
"But we should contact Fleetcom—find out what happened!"
"We're on comdown. We can't contact anybody until we get to the rendezvous."
I turned to Moontouch. She gave me an angelic smile, and raised a hand to touch my cheek, then rested her head against mine, blinking dark eyes. Her silken dark hair was like butterfly wings, tickling my flesh. She said not a word, and I understood. Deadeye and Stormdawn were gazing at her in adoration. Victory! Never had it tasted better, this, my personal victory against the entire rest of the universe. The Gods were with us. Why should I worry about the Legion attack?
###
"…and that's it," I said. "Mission accomplished. I wish I could have brought the girl's body back, but…well, I didn't." Dragon and I were doing the mission debrief before Snow Leopard, in a little alcove off Recon Control on the Spawn. Dragon and I were still in our armor, helmets off. Our A-suits reeked of burning metal.
"You did well," Snow Leopard responded. He was in camfax fatigues, his pale face strained and tired, his hot pink eyes rivetted on us both. He seemed tired. "Good initiative, Thinker. I saw the whole thing on tac review. It was audacious, but it worked…that's what counts. Dragon, I'm proud of you. You always do the right thing, no matter what the damned orders are. I'm proud of both of you." Snow Leopard had reason to admire Dragon's tendency to ignore his orders. Dragon had saved Snow Leopard's life on Uldo but had to disobey Snow Leopard's direct orders to do it.
"What the hell happened, Snow Leopard?" I asked. "What happened to the attack?" I was ready to drop. I squirmed in the airchair and my armor ripped out a chunk of padding from the armrest. I stared at it stupidly.
"Cancelled," he replied. "At the last moment. I was kind of expecting it."
"Cancelled! Why? Was it us? Did they suspect an attack?"
"No. It wasn't you. That had nothing to do with it. Starcom ordered the attack called off when you were already on the way to the target in your Phantom."
"But why? This was our perfect chance to finish off their fleet, wasn't it? We must have spent billions just launching the mission. What in Deadman's name made Starcom call it off?"
"Stupidity," Dragon interjected. "What else could it be?"
Snow Leopard gazed off into the distance, his eyes unfocused. For a moment I thought he hadn't heard me, then he replied. "Have you ever heard of genetic migration?"
"Genetic migration." I pondered the phrase. "No."
"Well, it's not surprising. We've been learning a lot about the O's lately. That O prisoner you captured for us on Andrion helped our lifies out quite a bit. Genetic migration is something that is imprinted into the Omni's biological life cycle. It's hardwired right into their brains. It's not an individual event, it's a racial event. We don't know what triggers it, but it seems to have something to do with events that affect the Omni drive to expand their territory and influence. When these racial efforts are severely countered, this…genetic migration…is triggered. It's a biological event that is evidently formalized by the Omni leadership when it occurs."
"What does that have to do with why we didn't attack?"
"This has happened before, at least once that we know of. After ConFree smashed their fleets during the Plague War, the O's pulled back from their onslaught against us, and disappeared, for some eighty stellar years. It now seems likely that our successful defense of the Outvac back then triggered this migration instinct."
"Where do they go?"
"We don't know. They just disappear. Do you know what's been happening while we were prepping the attack on Mantis?"
"I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"The O's were pulling out of every world they had occupied. Every ConFree world, every System world, every world we know about where they have a presence. They've pulled out of Mongera already. And they're leaving Mantis right now. That's what all the activity was that you noticed during the raid. All those starships taking off, all that rushing around at the starport."
"We were kind of wondering about that," Dragon said.
"I see," I said. "Well, it's rational, isn't it? We whipped their asses in Andrion Deep. So they're pulling out."
"It's not rational," Snow Leopard said. "It's a lot deeper than that. It may have been triggered by the battle of Andrion Deep, but we can't know that for sure. Our lifies tell us there are very complex genetic strands that evidently trigger instinctive racial memories and biological survival instincts. These genes are intertwined with their reproductive drives. We believe that when they migrate, they return home to some ancient racial hive where they raise another generation. And, after considerable time, they reappear again in our portion of the galaxy and resume their activities."
"So what?" I asked. "That's no reason to call off our attack! Let the bastards return with half their star fleet missing. What, we're going to give them a break because they're pulling out? You just admitted they'd be back. This was our chance to break their back, and Fleetcom calls it off? We won't get another chance like this. Two billion dead, and we call off the attack? No, I don't get it, I do not get it, at all." Two billion ghosts, I thought, crying out for revenge.
"The decision was made at the last moment," Snow Leopard said calmly, "after intense debate. But there was more to it than what I've told you. A lot more. I don't have the details. I'm not even sure what it was, but we'll all be briefed on it soon enough. I'll tell you this, your buddy Tara made a strong argument t
o call off the attack. I don't know what she said, but I've been told it was decisive."
"Tara," I said. "I swear, I think she's losing it. She's been doing a lot of strange things lately."
"Like approving your raid?" Snow Leopard asked me.
"All right, good point. But calling off the attack? Deadman! It's crazy. It's like willing our problems to the next generation. Here, here's the O's. We didn't have the guts to kill them when we had the chance, so it's up to you, kids, good luck."
"Sure," Dragon said. "What the hell else is new? Our parents did it to us. Now it's our turn. Why should we be any different?"
"Let's wait for the full story," Snow Leopard said. "We don't know what it is yet."
"The full story is we let the O's get away," Dragon said. "That's the full story."
###
"The people of the Confederation of Free Worlds, through their instrument, the ConFree Legion, accuse ConFree Legion Commander Thinker, serial number 34673002, of violating Standing Order Number One, by deliberately disobeying a direct order in time of war, in combat conditions, in reckless disregard of the mission, thus endangering and jeopardizing all around him. This general court-martial is now in session, under the Legion Code of Military Justice, convened as a field court before special military commission, # 38 of 329/04/43, on board the C.S. Atom's Road, Captain Zim Tana-Tan presiding. Your designation?" the captain asked me. I stood ramrod straight in my blacks, illuminated harshly by the overhead light. Four Legion officers and the Fleetcom captain sat before me at a metal table littered with d-screens and datacards. The makeshift courtroom had evidently been a storeroom. Piles of portable tables were stacked almost ceiling high off to one side, filling half the room. The proceedings were being immortalized by the vidmons slapped up on the ceiling. Justice was swift in the Legion. We were in stardrive, on our way back to the Outvac, but I was likely to be in irons before the voyage was concluded.
"Sir, Commander Thinker, serial 34673002, reporting as ordered," I replied to the captain. The facts were seldom in dispute in a Legion courtroom. Everything we did in combat was recorded, and anyone who attempted a lie would find himself facing a brainscan. Truth wasn't the problem. Justice was the problem.
"Commander Thinker," the captain said. "The penalty for violating Standing Order Number One can include execution, expulsion from the Legion under a dishonorable discharge, permanent banishment from ConFree, periods of hard labor up to two years, and other penalties. Are you aware of the seriousness of these charges?"
"Yes sir."
"Good. Let's hear from the people."
One of the officers on the panel stirred. He was a pale young Outworlder, thin sandy hair, clad in his blacks with no insignia except for the combat cross. There were no lawyers in the room—ConFree didn't believe in lawyers, but they did believe in justice. These folks all wore the combat cross. That was their only identification—they didn't even wear rank insignia. They were my peers, and they were going to judge me.
"Commander Thinker," he intoned softly, not even looking at me. "I've been looking over your records. This isn't the first time you've been accused of reckless D, is it?"
"No sir."
"According to what it says here, in 318 CGS you were sentenced to two years hard labor for violating Standing Order Number One, in time of war. You refused a direct order to return your starship and its highly classified cargo to the Crista Cluster, in full knowledge that your cargo was vital to the continued survival of our civilization. Is that accurate?"
"Yes sir."
He gazed at me with a faint smile. "My! It seems you have a history of not obeying orders. One might even say it's becoming a trend."
I did not reply. He looked back at his d-screen.
"Were you the officer in charge of a ConFree rescue mission mounted on planet Mantis, two days ago?"
"Yes sir."
"And the orders for the mission included the stipulation that you were not to fire upon any Omni targets unless they first fired at you or your troops? Is that accurate?"
"Yes sir."
"Did you completely understand those orders?"
"Yes sir."
"And, during this mission, did you enter an Omni hive and come face to face with an Omni?"
"Yes sir."
"Did the Omni fire at you or your troops?"
"No sir."
"Did you fire at the Omni?"
"Yes sir."
"Thank you, Commander. The people of ConFree are satisfied that the accused is guilty as charged, and we have no further questions." He went back to his d-screen, seemingly losing interest in me.
"Any further questions from the court?" the captain asked.
One officer raised a finger lazily, and the captain nodded at him. "My colleague," the officer said, "has done an excellent job in ascertaining the facts." He smiled pleasantly at the officer who had been questioning me. The new fellow had darker hair and deeply tanned, almost leathery skin. He was an Outworlder too, but looked like an outdoors type. His blacks were unpressed. "It appears clear that Commander Thinker did violate his orders. There is one question that my colleague did not raise—probably just an oversight, I'm sure. I would be curious to know exactly why Commander Thinker chose to violate his orders. It might help us in the sentencing decision."
"Please proceed," the captain intoned.
"Commander Thinker," the man smiled softly, "why did you decide to violate your orders by firing at the enemy before he fired at you? Please give us your reasons."
"Yes sir," I said. "As we approached the main hall from the lower levels Sweety—uh, she's my Persist—warned me that an Omni was present, armored and armed, mag shields up, Vulcan safety off, psyprobes active. Sweety told me she was projecting psybloc on the target. As I entered the hall, I saw the O and it turned to face me. It raised its Vulcan and I noted flame was flickering from the barrel. I raised my E to target it and I noted the O moved the barrel of the Vulcan to point directly at me. I also noted that the O's head moved slightly as if to focus directly on me. That's when I fired." My heart was pounding. Describing the incident brought it all back to me, right there in the courtroom.
"And why did you fire?"
"It appeared clear to me that the O was about to fire and if he did, at that range, we would be instantly annihilated, with no chance to fire back."
"You still haven't told me why you fired first."
"I fired to save my life and that of my companions."
"And who were they?"
"Two Legion Taka auxiliaries, Deadeye Standfast and Stormdawn, and two Taka we had just liberated from the O's—a female, Moontouch, and a Taka child named Love's Child."
"I see. According to the record, you altered the ops plan at the last moment to enter the hive. Why did you do that?"
"We had to rescue the child. He was in the hive, and Moontouch wouldn't leave without him. We hadn't known about him when we planned the op. I made the decision to go in."
"So. You entered the hive, leaving your Phantom—and all the other prisoners you had rescued, including several ConFree nationals—to await your return, should that ever happen. They were unlikely to survive the planned Fleetcom attack, which was by then overdue. Was that responsible? Didn't that bother you?"
"Yes sir, it did. At first I was hopeful we could extract the child quickly, but when it became clear that it might be a lengthy process I ordered the Phantom to leave in order to save the passengers, and to return for us should it prove possible to do so."
"And yet it didn't leave, did it?"
"No sir."
"Why not?"
"My deputy told me my transmission was breaking up and he couldn't read me."
"That would be…let's see…trooper Dragon. The record shows your transmission was perfectly clear." He smiled. "Thank you, Commander. I'm through."
"Any more questions?" The captain asked. There were none. "Thank you, Commander Thinker," he said. "You are dismissed. You will be notified of the verd
ict and sentencing within the hour. In the meantime, please stand by in the corridor outside. You're needed as a witness in another case."
###
I rested my back wearily against the cold bulkhead of the corridor, closing my eyes. I was sweating. I had no idea what the result of the court-martial would be. I tried to tell myself that I didn't care, that all I could do was tell the truth and let Deadman roll his dice to determine my fate. It was just like the Uldo time drop, I thought. I did the right thing. That's all I can do. If the Legion decides it's wrong, there's nothing for it except to live with the consequences. What will it be? Execution? Banishment? At the very least, a dishonorable discharge, revocation of citizenship and maybe two more years breaking rocks. That'll teach me. No good deed goes unpunished.
Curse of the Legion Page 22
