by John Ringo
“You think these soldiers are going to listen to me?” she asked.
“Yes,” Herzer replied. “As automatically as breathing. Why?”
“Well…” Megan said, temporizing. “You want me to run the base?”
“No,” Herzer said after a moment. “That won’t work, either. You’re going to have too much to do. We’ll find someone. Damnit, where in the hell is Tao!”
“I’m here, sir,” Van Krief said quietly.
“Go to the portal, then go to Colonel Torill at SpecOps. Tell him we’re in a classic FUBAR. I need an officer of rank of captain or major who has base management experience and appropriate clearances; I don’t have time to manage the base and plan and train for the op at the same time. We also need support staff, replacements for the previous casualties… Point out to him the situation and, beyond that, please ask him to exercise his best judgment but right now the only thing working around here is security and the dwarves and we need more than that.”
“Yes, sir,” Van Krief said, folding her notebook.
“Go! And if you see Tao, tell him to get his butt moving!”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant said, turning to walk away.
“Shit,” Herzer muttered. “Amosis, give me your notebook.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, handing it over with a quizzical expression.
“You can’t get out without authorization,” Herzer explained, writing a short note and handing it to her. “Lieutenant… Commer, what’s the name of the Blood Lord commander?”
“Captain Van Buskirk, sir,” the lieutenant replied.
“Bus?” Herzer said. “I didn’t even know he’d made lieutenant much less captain. Okay, Megan, could you please get with Courtney and Shanea and discuss specific housekeeping arrangements. There may be more kids that have to be looked after; we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I need to go see the detachment commander. And maybe arrange dinner.”
“Yes, sir!” Megan snapped.
“In a moment,” Herzer said, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her down the corridor. “Okay, what?” he asked when they were in her room.
Megan started to reply, then bit her tongue. He waited through a jaw flex and an inhalation, expecting at any moment to have his head ripped off.
“I’d gotten used to giving orders,” Megan said, finally. “And I’ve got a question; who’s in charge here?”
“Oh,” Herzer said, blowing out a breath. “In all honesty, I suppose you are. You’re the Key-holder.”
“True,” Megan replied, shaking her head. “But I’m not the right person to be in charge. I wouldn’t have known to contact… Colonel Torill and I wouldn’t have known to ask for… that officer you asked for. So what are we doing?”
Herzer thought about it for a moment, scratching his chin with his prosthetic and then nodded, sharply.
“Council members, with a few exceptions, are responsible for strategic decisions, not operational or tactical, agreed? And, with the exception of Duke Edmund, they are defined as civilians, not military.”
“Agreed,” Megan said. “So you’re saying I get strategic calls and you get operational and tactical? I get civilian, you get military?”
“When we’re prepping the mission and when we’re on the mission, I’m in charge,” Herzer said bluntly. “Up and until we come to a strategic decision. Then you make the call and I carry it out. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Megan said.
“Now,” Herzer said, delicately. “What the hell was that with Mike?”
Megan’s face worked again and Herzer just waited.
“He has a tendency to piss me off,” Megan admitted. “And the whole ‘me man, me work, you woman, take care of babies and cook’ really—”
“Triggered something?” Herzer asked.
“You could say that,” Megan admitted with a breathless chuckle. “Very… strong stab of anger.”
“ ‘Irrational’ stab of anger?” Herzer asked.
“Oh, I dunno,” Megan said, smiling unhappily. “I think it was pretty rational, don’t you?”
“The degree?” Herzer asked.
“No.”
“You know what was happening there?” Herzer asked carefully.
“I’d analyzed it myself the moment you brought it up,” Megan said bitterly. “Thank you.”
“There is going to be a lot of stress on this mission,” Herzer pointed out. “A lot of tension. Probably a fair degree of shouting. Certainly orders that are going to have to be acted on, sometimes without thinking about it. There is not room for someone who is not in control of their emotions.”
“I’m in perfect control,” Megan said, coldly.
“No, you’re not,” Herzer replied gently. “Not if Mike can get you that angry by just being… Mike. Stress is not cumulative, it’s multiplicative. There’s small background stress, then you add another stress on and another and finally there’s that one that sends you right up to the brink of loss of control, or over. And life-threatening stress is worse than what we’ve been dealing with. If you panic, up there…” His jaw worked and Megan reached up to stroke it.
“You’ll lose me,” she whispered. “Are you trying to find a reason for me not to go on this mission?”
“I’m not willing to lose you,” Herzer replied, tightly. “I don’t, frankly, give a damn about the Key. I’m not willing to lose you, Megan Travante. I’m not. Hell, for that reason if no other, one or the other of us shouldn’t be on this mission. And, of the two, I think you’re the one to worry about.”
“Herzer,” Megan said, “I’m strong, okay? And we’re both coming back from this mission. Get that through your head.”
“You’re strong,” he admitted. “But you’ve got weird stress points. And you get stubborn. I won’t have time to let you work things out for yourself up there,” he added, pointing upward.
“What about when I tell you to do something or not to do something?” Megan asked. “When it’s a strategic decision.”
“You tell me to jump off the damned ship, and I will,” Herzer said, definitely. “But you’d better have a damned good reason.”
“I won’t ever ask you to do that,” Megan said, chuckling.
“Ten’hut!” someone bellowed as Herzer walked into the orderly room of the Blood Lord headquarters.
“At ease,” he bellowed. “Where’s the captain?”
“In there, sir,” one of the sergeants in the room said, gesturing at the rear door.
Herzer knocked on the door and entered at a bellowed “Come.”
“Hey, Bus,” he said as the captain started to get to his feet. “Chill. When’d you pin on your third pip?”
“Last month,” the captain said. “Congratulations on your promotion, sir.”
Captain Van Buskirk was nearly as large and broad as Herzer but where Herzer was dark, “Bus” Van Buskirk was light: blond hair, skin so white that his vascular system stood out like a model, sunburned nose and cheekbones. Herzer remembered that he had a tendency to burn if the sun was below the horizon. They weren’t friends exactly, but the Blood Lord group was so small that he tended to know most of the officers and a good many of the NCOs.
“Can the ‘sir,’ Bus,” Herzer said, sighing and settling in the room’s only other chair. “This is a classic FUBAR, you know that?”
“I’m just starting to get an inkling of what’s going on in this camp,” the captain replied. “But I’ll agree that all signs point to FUBAR.”
“Fisked up beyond all recognition,” Herzer admitted, his eyes narrowing. “But part of that fisk up I’m going to stop now. We’re going to have to discuss distribution on things, but bringing you in on what you’re guarding is just going to be part of the change…”
“Do you have authority?” Van Buskirk asked.
“I do indeed,” Herzer replied. “And if I don’t, fisk it. What we’re supposed to be doing here is planning to retake the fuel tanker that’s headed in.”
“Th
ought so,” the captain said, grimacing. “That’s the thing with the lake, right?”
“I have no idea,” Herzer admitted. “Why?”
“Zero g, training,” the captain said. “It’s the really old way to train for zero g.”
“You’ve been in space?” Herzer asked.
“A couple of times,” Van Buskirk said. “I used to play… well… you did ER, right?”
Herzer had, indeed, spent much of his time prior to the Fall in Enhanced Reality, the computer generated world of holograms and nano-forms where a good many people gamed.
“Yeah,” the commander said. “But I was always in a medieval fantasy environment. You?”
“You were lucky,” the captain said with a laugh. “I was playing shooter games. Some of the best were on simulated spaceships. A couple of times I went up for live group tourneys, just to see if there was a difference. There wasn’t enough to matter.”
“I wish we could use ER for training, now,” Herzer said. “I’ve never been in free-fall and neither has anyone on the team as far as I’m aware. And speaking of teams…” he added musingly. “I’m authorized to recruit in the Blood Lords for the replacement fighters on this mission. Given the security group here, and at Blackbeard, there aren’t many that are available. But your company is right here, already…”
“Oh, crap,” the captain said, shaking his head. “We can’t be pulling security all night and training all day. I won’t even go into the whole: ‘shouldn’t you ask for volunteers?’ thing. I’ll volunteer in a heartbeat; I’ve always liked fighting in space. But the rest of the company…”
“They volunteered twice,” Herzer said. “First for the legions, then for the Blood Lords. Why ask a third time?”
“How caring of you,” the captain said, grinning.
“Apparently a lot of the trainers got killed along with the team,” Herzer said. “So don’t be surprised if you get press-ganged as a trainer. And I want you to go talk to Angus Peterka over in Building Seventeen. Use the back door and tell him I sent you…”
“That’s a blue zone building,” Buskirk pointed out. “I’m only cleared for purple.”
“Not anymore,” Herzer intoned.
“Shanea, you’ve met Courtney before,” Megan said, as the girl came into her room.
“Hey,” Shanea said, smiling. “Good to see you again.”
“Shanea, do you have any experience with children?” Megan asked carefully.
“I had a younger brother,” Shanea said, her face suddenly creasing in an unusual frown. “I don’t know what happened to him, you know?”
“You took care of him?” Courtney asked.
“A little,” the girl said. “Me and the nannies. And Mom,” she said quietly.
“The problem is, Courtney has to do some training,” Megan said. “And she has some children here. Could you watch them? One of them’s a baby so you’re going to have to change diapers…”
“Oh, sure!” Shanea said, smiling happily. “I like kids. I want some myself. I kept hoping that Paul would get me pregnant so I could have a baby, but he never did.”
Courtney’s face twitched at that and she carefully didn’t look at Megan.
“Great,” Megan said, smiling blankly. “Courtney, why don’t you go introduce Shanea to your children while I go see if I can help Herzer? The replacement personnel are coming in and I foresee some problems there.”
Chapter Fifteen
Linda was frowning in her mirror when there was a knock at the door. Ever since the debacle with Herzer Herrick, Shamon had been a bit less friendly. He still was maintaining the apartment but she suspected it was time to start shopping for a new “friend.” However, Duke Dehnavi was out of town at his country home at the moment, so she had time to look around and certainly wasn’t expecting visitors.
She stood up and put on a robe, hair up and makeup half done, and went to the door. Whoever it was, they could damned well see her like this. Maybe it would scare them off.
The “visitors” turned out to be two Federal Rangers, one male and one female, in light leather armor.
“Miz Linda Donohue?” the male officer asked, consulting a clipboard.
“Yes?” she replied uncertainly. Shamon probably had enough power to have her arrested or detained, but she couldn’t imagine what the charge would be. And she hadn’t thought he was that pissed off.
“Miz Donohue, you’re being temporarily detained under the War Powers Act,” the officer said, stone faced. “Could you change into comfortable clothing, pack enough clothes for approximately three days in no more than one bag and come with us?”
“What is this about?” Linda said, her eyes widening. “I haven’t done anything!”
“Ma’am, I do not know,” the officer said, gesturing at the female officer. “Ranger Varnicke will remain with you while you prepare.”
“I’m not going anywhere until someone tells me what I’m charged with!” Linda snapped. “I’ve got powerful friends, buddy, you can’t just up and snatch me out of my apartment!”
“Ma’am, you’re not charged with anything,” Varnicke said placatingly. “And we don’t know why you’re being detained. Our orders are to pick you up, take you to a colonel at the War Department and then pick up two more people.”
“And as for your friends,” the still unnamed male officer said bluntly, “you’ll be permitted to contact someone once you reach the War Department but you’re to communicate with no one while you are in detention. Now, please prepare to leave.”
Stunned, Linda let herself be led into her own apartment by Ranger Varnicke while the male remained outside, presumably on guard. Varnicke helped her pack while Linda finished her makeup.
She was taken through Washan in a closed, and stuffy, carriage, to an outlying building at the sprawling headquarters. There she was turned over to a Blood Lord soldier who escorted her to a windowless room with only one door in which three other people waited.
“Does anyone know what is going on?” she asked, dropping the leather satchel with all she currently possessed at her feet and sitting in a hard-backed chair.
“No idea,” a man said, running his eyes over her. “But the view’s certainly improved.”
Linda snorted and examined her fellow travelers. Two of them had to be well over a hundred, one of the two having the look of someone who spent most of his time in a day-labor job.
“Where are you from, miss?” one of the older men asked. “We’re all from Raven’s Mill but I don’t recognize you.”
“I’m from here,” she said, shrugging. “I lived near Washan… before, you know? And I moved here.”
“What do you do, miss?” the one that looked like a day laborer asked.
“I’m a secretary,” she said, shrugging. “I work in a duke’s office.”
“Lucky duke,” the man who’d commented on the view said.
That apparently exhausted the fund of small talk available and they sat in silence for an extended period of time. There was no way to determine how long but the wait seemed interminable. Linda spent her time mentally composing the note she was going to send to Dehnavi.
Finally the door opened and the same Blood Lord that had escorted her to the room gestured from the opening.
“That’s apparently it, for now,” he said. “If you’d please come with me?”
“Where are we going?” Linda snapped. “I was told I could send a note to someone telling them where I’d disappeared to.”
“You’ll get a chance,” the Blood Lord said. “Later. Come with me, please. If you see anyone you recognize, just smile and wave. No talking or discussion.”
There were three more Blood Lords waiting for them and the group was escorted around the edge of the War Department zone and to a portal in another enclosed room.
“Where in the hell are we going?” Linda snapped, balking at the portal.
“Seventh Legion’s camp,” the lead Blood Lord answered. “Enter the portal, ma’am.”
Linda gritted her teeth and stepped through after the other three. There was another group of Blood Lords on the far side standing in a three-sided shed. From it, the bustle of the Legion camp could be observed and Linda noticed that there was some sort of inner camp with a gate just down the street.
“Manuel Sukiama?” the sergeant in charge of the group asked.
“Here,” one of the older men said.
“Josten Ram?”
“Here,” the man who’d commented on her looks answered. “What is this all about?”
“You’ll be told soon, sir,” the sergeant answered. “Linda Donohue?”
“Here,” Linda snarled. “There is going to be hell to pay about this.”
“As you say, ma’am. Geo Keating?”
“Here,” the day laborer said.
“You’re Geo Keating?” Linda gasped. “You wrote Sixth Order Mechanics.”
“That was a long time ago, young lady,” the man said, his face breaking into a smile. “Thank you for remembering.”
“What the hell are you doing looking like…” She paused and gestured embarrassedly.
“Ah, well,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders with a slight smile. “Not much work for quantum engineers these days, is there? Take life a day at a time.”
“Could the four of you come with me, please?” the sergeant said, walking out of the shed and towards the inner camp.
“I love how polite they are,” Linda said, sarcastically, shrugging her satchel up and following. “As if we have a choice.”
“Well, it’s better than what I’d be doing today,” Keating said. “Could I help you with your bag, miss?”
“I can carry it,” Linda said, noticing for the first time that he didn’t have a bag of his own. “Where’s your stuff?”
“This is my stuff, miss,” the man said, looking around the camp. “Lovely use of space, very efficient.”
“I’d think that some of your background would have transferred to the new tech,” Linda said, puzzled. “Couldn’t you get work as, I dunno, an engineer.”
“The requirements for modern engineering are a bit far from my area of expertise, miss,” Keating said, frowning. “I actually tried at one point but… I’m really not a good day-to-day engineer. I tend to… wander mentally. And there’s not much room for impracticality these days. Digging gives me plenty of chance to think. It’s not all that bad of a life. I never was much into material possessions; I donated almost all of my credits to the Wolf project before the Fall. So I live life one day at a time, find some work that keeps me in food and… think. It’s not the worst life possible. And I’ve done good work these days, helping to build Raven’s Mill. In a way, creating a well-built wall is as satisfying as publishing a well-thought thesis. Perhaps more so; I don’t have to defend my wall. It is there for everyone to see and admire. It keeps the wind out and with a roof it keeps the rain off. When I build a foundation, you know that the wall will stand. And when I build a wall, you know that the roof will stand.”
