The officers looked, and couldn’t help but be impressed, because the green spheres were like a wedge pointing at the heart of the Human Empire. Not even Pem-Da could deny what Poseen-Ka had accomplished, and momentarily wondered if the other officer was right. But no, an ambush always looks good until you’re in it, and then it’s too late. Besides, he had committed both his honor and his prestige to pulling Poseen-Ka down, and there was no backing out. He frowned.
“An excellent presentation,” Isam-Ka said, signaling his support and filling Dal-Ba’s veins with ice. If Pem-Da was opposed to Poseen-Ka, and Isam-Ka had decided to support him, then where did that leave him? With the deciding vote, that’s where. A vote that could cost him everything he had worked so hard to achieve. Which officer had the most supporters within the high command? In the triad itself? The questions whirled through his mind and caused his hands to shake. The lights came up and he slid them under the table.
“Thank you, Sector Marshal Isam-Ka, but my strategy has been questioned. Lance Commander Moder-Ta sees no need to protect our backs, to defend our lines of supply, and urges us to leap blindly forward, striking at the enemy’s heart while preempting the Intaka. But such a view presupposes that the humans have been inactive, and I intend to challenge that assumption.”
Hoskins shifted his weight from one side of the oversized chair to the other and wondered if he’d done the right thing by providing the information the Hudathan was about to use. Favoring Poseen-Ka over his opponents was akin to choosing one dire beast over another. Both wanted to devour you; the only questions were where to start and when to do it.
Such distinctions might seem valid now, and had been sufficient to save the survivors of Frio II, but how would they look at his court-martial? Assuming he lived long enough to have one. Then it would be he rather than Poseen-Ka who faced a court of inquiry and awaited the outcome.
The lights dimmed only slightly this time as four documents appeared on the wall opposite the court. There were two originals, both of which were in standard, and two translations. The Hudathan script consisted of pictograms similar to those that Norwood had seen throughout the ship.
Poseen-Ka had hit his stride by now and seemed more like a commanding officer briefing his staff than a defendant pleading his case, a stratagem that made him seem part of the court rather than the subject of it. He pointed a small device at the wall and an arrow appeared.
“As you can see, the first document, the one from NAVCOM Earth, instructs the forces on Frio II to withdraw and head for the inner planets, an order that could suggest either cowardice or a gathering of forces, and would be consistent with what human forces have done up until now.
“Interestingly enough, however, the second document, the one from LEGCOM Algeron, instructs them to ignore the first set of orders and hold. This in spite of the fact that LEGCOM Algeron is a subordinate command structure that normally takes directions from Earth.”
Poseen-Ka turned towards Hoskins.
“Lance Commander Moder-Ta saw fit to call on human testimony, so tell us, Major Hoskins, how do you interpret those conflicting orders?”
Hoskins swallowed the lump that had formed at the back of his throat. A hand went to the translator that hung from his neck. “I have no way to know for sure, but I assume that LEGCOM Algeron favors a different strategy than that advocated by NAVCOM Earth, and has decided to go its own way.”
Poseen-Ka could have asked a follow-up question, but didn’t, preferring to let the news sink in instead.
All three of the judges looked at each other in alarm. This was a brand-new piece of information, carefully hoarded, and used to great effect. A split in the human command structure! Even the triad itself would take notice. But what did it mean?
Pem-Da was furious that Moder-Ta had allowed himself to be outmaneuvered and said so with a scathing look. The energy was wasted, however, since Moder-Ta had aimed a similar expression at Baldwin, who had turned white as a sheet.
Poseen-Ka was well aware of the discomfort that he’d caused but pretended to be above such things. The questions continued.
“Describe the planet Algeron.”
Hoskins felt cold all over. He sat at attention. “I refuse to provide you with information about the planet or its defenses.”
Poseen-Ka looked stem. “Nor did I ask you for such information. Tell the court what LEGCOM Algeron means. I ask nothing more.”
Hoskins shrugged. “It means Legion Command, Algeron.”
“Yes,” Poseen-Ka hissed softly. “Legion Command, Algeron. Headquarters for the Imperial Legion! A world already under surveillance by our long-range scouts. A well-fortified planet, with no civilian population to worry about, that intends to fight us. Why? And in cooperation with whom?”
Poseen-Ka turned and pointed an accusing finger at Moder-Ta. “Tell us, Lance Commander Moder-Ta, is this the kind of world you would have us bypass? Is this the kind of world that you would leave between our fleet and the homeworld? Is this the kind of world you want me to deal with later?”
Moder-Ta opened his mouth but nothing came out.
Completely in command now, Poseen-Ka whirled towards the hatch and rapped out an order.
“Bring him in.”
The hatch hissed upwards and a medic entered the room. He was closely followed by a power-assisted stretcher and a second medic. A third of the stretcher had been raised so the heavily bandaged pilot could sit up. He tried to salute. The first medic helped him complete the motion.
“I give you Flight Officer Norbu Seena-Ra, the single surviving member of Spear Three, the only real battle with the humans. We would know nothing of the final battle were it not for Seena-Ra’s heroic efforts to bring us the news. He’s much too weak to give prolonged testimony, so I will limit myself to three questions.”
Poseen-Ka walked over to the stretcher and placed a hand on the pilot’s arm. The pilot’s burned face had been covered with lab-grown skin. Bandages offered some protection and held the artificial tissue in place. The war commander looked down and made contact with two pained-filled eyes.
“Tell us, Flight Officer Seena-Ra, how did the humans fight?”
The pilot’s voice was little more than a croak and, had it not been for the almost total silence in the compartment, would have been impossible to hear.
“The humans fought like devils.”
“Did they have weapons or capabilities that you would consider to be unusual?”
“They had cyborgs, huge things that could destroy aircraft and troops alike, and stalked the surface like killer robots.”
“One more question,” Poseen-Ka said, “and you can return to sick bay. The soldiers and the cyborgs ... what unit were they from?”
Seena-Ra rolled his eyes. The words seemed to fall from his mouth like stones. “They were members of the Imperial Legion.”
“Thank you.”
Poseen-Ka turned towards the court as the pilot was wheeled from the room.
“So there you have it. Lance Commander Moder-Ta, and those who agree with him, would have us bypass the very world on which many of the Human Empire’s most effective troops are headquartered. And they would have us do so while completely ignorant of whatever traps are being laid. Yes, we must fear an ambush, yes, we must fear the blow of death, yes, we must move aggressively. But not by foolhardy leaps into the unknown, not by abandoning a strategy that has been successful, and not by ignoring the natural conservatism that has protected our race for so long. Thank you.”
So saying, Poseen-Ka strode to the middle of the room, took his seat, and stared straight ahead. He’d left some witnesses uncalled, but their testimony would be assumed, so he felt comfortable with that decision. Yes, Poseen-Ka decided, he’d done the best he could and it was time to quit.
There was a long moment of silence as everyone present absorbed what he’d said.
Norwood felt something akin to victory.
Hoskins worried about the effect of what he’d done.
/>
Baldwin felt rage bubble up from deep inside.
Moder-Ta wondered how many days he had left.
And Pem-Da made the decision to salvage what he could.
Dal-Ba cleared his throat. The choice would be easier than he’d thought.
“Thank you, War Commander Poseen-Ka. Having heard testimony both for and against the officer in question, and having considered all of the evidence, the court is ready to vote. Sector Marshal Isam-Ka?”
“Not guilty.”
“Grand Marshal Pem-Da?”
“Not guilty.”
Dal-Ba gave an involuntary blink of surprise but was otherwise impassive.
“Thank you. And since my vote is ‘not guilty’ as well, let the record show that War Commander Poseen-Ka has been exonerated of all charges against him and restored to his command. This court of inquiry is now adjourned.”
It was then that Baldwin came to his feet, gave an incoherent bellow, and charged Poseen-Ka. The Hudathan was waiting when the human arrived, decked him with a single blow, and ordered his bodyguards to haul the unconscious body away.
Their usefulness at an end, Norwood and Hoskins were escorted out of the compartment and led away.
Moder-Ta, along with Spear Commanders Two and Five, followed. With a war on, and Poseen-Ka in command, their prospects were suddenly bleak.
That left Pem-Da, Isam-Ka, Dal-Ba, and Poseen-Ka himself.
“So,” Pem-Da said, forcing a jocularity that he didn’t feel, “what next?”
Poseen-Ka looked through him as if able to see something beyond. There was no humor in his voice or mercy in his eyes.
“Next comes Algeron, and after that, Earth itself.”
20
The goal of a legionnaire is the supreme adventure of combat at the end of which is either victory or death.
Colonel Pierre Jeanpierre
Commanding Officer, 1st REP
Algeria, Planet Earth
Standard year 1958
Planet Algeron, the Human Empire
The VIP suite boasted dark red walls, gold trim, and ornate handcrafted furniture. Regimental emblems had been framed and hung on the walls along with a selection of ancient hand weapons and some bloodstained flags. It made for a rather somber setting and Chien-Chu would be glad to escape it. He put his hands on his daughter-in-law’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. They were level with his.
“Are you sure? Twelve ships have dropped hyper during the last hour. Scolari will deliver an ultimatum of some sort, St. James will refuse, and the marines will land.” He shrugged. “After that, who knows. The Legion stands a good chance ... but nothing is certain.”
Natasha forced a smile. “Yes, I’m sure. I can be useful here. The Cabal needs a representative on Algeron. You said so yourself. Besides, based on what I’ve heard during the last few days, Earth will be just as dangerous.”
Chien-Chu allowed his hands to fall. Natasha was right. He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “I should’ve known better than to argue with you. Take care of yourself. Nola will kill me if anything happened to you.”
Natasha laughed. “Look who’s talking! The same man who’s leading a revolution and preparing for interstellar war. You take care.”
Chien-Chu nodded and searched for words that didn’t come. A way to tell her that he understood, that her feelings for St. James were right, that Leonid would want her to be happy.
A tear trickled down Natasha’s cheek. Pearly white teeth caught and held her lower lip. “You’re a wonderful man, Sergi. The human race is lucky to have you.”
Chien-Chu waved the compliment away and reached for his suitcase. “Don’t be silly. I’m an idiot who allowed himself to get dragged into a horrible mess and can’t find a way out. There’s nothing noble about that.”
A chime sounded. Natasha dabbed at her tears and headed for the door. It swished aside.
Ian St. James wore battle dress and a sidearm. He looked tired. His eyes met Natasha’s and softened.
“Hello, Natasha. Is Sergi ready? We’re short on time. The first scout ships will drop into orbit three or four hours from now. We’re cutting it close as is.”
“Fuss, fuss, fuss,” Chien-Chu said cheerfully. “What’re we waiting for? It’s time to go.”
St. James and Natasha looked at each other, grinned, and allowed Chien-Chu to pass.
They made a strange trio as they walked down the corridors, the ramrod-straight soldier, the graceful young woman, and the chubby merchant.
But they were hardly noticeable in the bustling hallways, as battle-ready bio bods, cyborgs, and robots hurried to join their units. In hours, days at the most, they would be fighting for their lives. Not against aliens, who were still moving inwards, but fellow humans. It seemed that the second battle of Camerone would be just as pointless as the first.
The cabin was as austere as the woman who occupied it. It consisted of gray metal walls, indirect lighting, a sophisticated com terminal, and a fold-down bed that was presently retracted. In spite of the fact that she had occupied the space for several weeks, there was not a single family picture, piece of bric-a-brac, or other expression of the inner woman to be seen.
Admiral Paula Scolari finished her spartan breakfast, wiped imaginary crumbs from her lips, and scrolled through the last few.screens of the intelligence summary. Though the prospect of attacking a human-occupied world was basically repugnant, there were advantages. Like the fact that the Legion’s primary, secondary, and tertiary defense plans were on file with NAVCOM Earth and therefore available to her. She also had access to their personnel rosters, supply inventories, and much, much more.
Knowing what the enemy would do before they did it was a rare luxury and one that she intended to enjoy. The admiral smiled, stood, and pulled the uninflated helmet up and over her head. It smelled of plastic. Air entered through external vents. The suit would seal itself in an emergency and draw on a built-in air reservoir. It was uncomfortable but better than wearing full-fledged space armor all day long.
Scolari headed for the hatch. There was a spring in her step. St. James deserved a lesson and she looked forward to providing it. There would be additional benefits as well. With the exception of some minor skirmishes fought during her youth, Scolari had never directed a major campaign, and a decisive win would add to her credibility.
The men and women of the battleship Sirus, like all the others in Scolari’s fleet, had been at battle stations for more than an hour now. Ships were vulnerable when they dropped hyper and Scolari was cautious.
The normally busy main corridor was practically empty, so, with the exception of a lone maintenance bot, Scolari had the passageway to herself. The ship’s artificial gravity generators had been set at 1.5 gee to strengthen the marines. Scolari enjoyed the feel of the additional resistance.
A pair of marine guards crashed to attention as she approached the operations center. The heels of their right boots hit the deck at precisely the same moment that their Class IV assault rifles went vertical. Scolari nodded her approval, taking pleasure in the recognition of her rank and the precision with which it was rendered.
The hatch slid aside and Scolari entered the ops center. All three watches were present, bringing the total number of people in the compartment up to thirty or so, making things a bit crowded.
Like Scolari, the ops center staff wore lightweight pressure suits that would automatically inflate if the compartment was holed. Their helmets, which were transparent, hung down around their faces like folds of translucent skin. They looked more alien than human as they hunched over their screens and muttered into their microphones.
An officer materialized at Scolari’s elbow. His name was Wheeler and his normally attractive features looked grotesque through the heavy-duty plastic. The helmet muffled his voice.
“Welcome to the ops center, Admiral. Captain Kedasha is making her rounds. We’re right on schedule.”
Scolari nodded her approval. “Any sign of the transpor
ts?”
Wheeler knew what she meant. The transports sent to evacuate the Legion had never been heard from again.
“No, ma’am. The intelligence reports were accurate. The ships are gone.”
Scolari nodded again. Lieutenant Colonel Vial had been correct. St. James had loaded the transports with reinforcements and sent them to the rim worlds. Good. The Hudatha would cut them down to size and make her job that much easier.
A com tech wormed his way through the crowd and whispered something in Wheeler’s ear. He turned to Scolari. “One of our scouts reports that a ship has lifted and is headed out-system.”
“Profile?”
The tech whispered something more in Wheeler’s ear.
“A relatively small Class IX courier or yacht.”
“Let it go. We have bigger fish to fry.”
The tech nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
“We’re in com range?”
Wheeler nodded. “Yes, Admiral. Easily.”
“Excellent. Get General St. James on-screen. I want to talk to him.”
It took five minutes for the signal to reach Algeron, another five to find St. James, and five more to get him on-screen. He wore a crisp set of camos and his face looked bleak. Scolari saw combat-equipped legionnaires moving around in the background and knew that his forces were as ready as hers. More so since the planet was fortified.
“Hello, Admiral. Nice of you to drop in.”
Scolari squinted through plastic. She could feel everyone in the operations center staring at her. She was conscious of how her statement would sound to the Emperor, to the public, and to the historians who would study the campaign.
Legion of the Damned Page 31
