by John Ringo
"Which isn't good," Glennis said.
"I said 'technically,' " Briana corrected. "I've got three grav-guns on line already. In two and a half minutes I'll fire. They will not be able to detect it. And since they are not maneuvering, they're going to walk right into it. I should be able to get all three of the cruisers. They'll panic fire and begin maneuvering. If they fire from that far out, I can interdict one hundred percent of their fire assuming I get four of the plasma cannons within the next hour."
"You're scaring them into holding back," Glennis said.
"Oh, I intend to kill all of them," Briana said, wrinkling her nose and sniffing. "Unless they run away. And even then I've got a few tricks they haven't considered . . ."
"Michelle is on her way to Earth," the mentat said. "Unfortunately, this requires skip jumping—she is currently too far out to direct transfer. In the meantime, it is time to stop this battle around the Moon. A meeting must be arranged between the parties. I will ensure they do not kill each other in the meantime. You and your father must attend the meeting. The current conditions make it imperative to bring some of the Bane Sidhe into the light."
"Like that's going to happen," Cally said, looking at her phone in distaste. "We're not going to get kissy face with the Darhel any time soon."
"If you do not, the Earth will be conquered within the span of two years," the mentat replied. "Your squabbles have just become petty in comparison."
"Oh Christ," Cally said, looking around the room. "You know what this means."
"You were going to have to face it sooner or later," Shari said. The woman had lost much of her happiness in the last few years. Something about losing a man you'd been married to for half a century did that.
"And you're not the only one who has to come clean," Tommy pointed out. "I think this should include all of us."
"I'm not comfortable with the Darhel finding out about us," Wendy said. "That's . . ."
"We're not going to go totally white," Cally said. "Tommy and I will go white, but that's it. Some of the operatives. If the time comes . . . More. But for right now, just us. I have to; it's the only way to get the point across. And I'm going to need Tommy to interact on the military side. Ready to put a uniform back on?"
"Actually sort of looking forward to it," the former soldier said. "This skulking in shadows gets old fast."
"And . . . firing," Briana said. She didn't push any buttons, the fire program was laid in.
"I didn't feel anything," Glennis said after a moment. The massive grav-guns that protected the base should have sent a shudder through the ground.
"That's because they didn't fire," Briana replied calmly. She brought up a diagnostics program and frowned. "They should have. They're showing up."
"Paaaaaul!" Colonel Leblanc growled.
"Colonel Glennis Leblanc," a voice said out of the air.
"I'm pretty sure that's not God," Glennis replied. "Whoever you are . . ."
"My name is Thomas Coates. I am a human master of the discipline called Sohon. Your guns have been deactivated as have those of the Fleet ships attacking your base. It is imperative that no further hostile action be taken. There is a threat to humanity that requires all of our remaining forces to defend against. Contact your second-in-command and tell him you are going to a cease-fire meeting. You will be transferred to the location."
"Like hell!" Glennis said. "Who in the hell do you think you are to—"
"I am the person who just shut down every one of your space-defense weapons," the voice said. "It is not all I can do. You are going to the meeting. It will be held at Fleet Strike headquarters on Earth. You have thirty minutes to prepare."
"This is so totally bogus!" Briana said. "I was going to get to shoot up ships! I've been ready for this day for years! This is so totally bogus!"
"Yeah, well," Glennis said. "Holier than thou just took on a whole new meaning."
"The Fleet ships have been recalled," Colonel Paul said. "Admiral Hartono is reported to be less than amused that none of his guns worked."
"What in the hell are mentats doing interfering in this?" General Wesley asked, shaking his head. "They normally stay out of politics."
"I guess we'll find out at the meeting," Colonel Paul replied. "So far, all we know is that it's being held here. I'll get one of the conference rooms ready, but I don't even know how many people are going to be at it."
"Hopefully we'll get some prior warning," Wesley said. "But keep an eye out for shuttles. And keep Fleet and the mutineers as far apart as possible."
"Sir, I intend to keep you and the mutineers as far apart as possible."
"I wonder how many other people are getting the surprise of their life today?"
"I would rather die a thousand deaths," Cally muttered, looking at the door of the cottage.
"But now you must go," Tommy said, fiddling with his windbreaker. "So, we take a deep breath and . . ."
"Are you coming in or what?" Jason asked, pulling open the door. "Your Dad's wondering what all the fuss is about."
"Dad?" a voice said from deeper in the room. "Is Michelle here?"
"No," Cally said, stepping around the former DAG member. "Not Michelle."
Mike looked at the woman in puzzlement. He'd remember a look like that, he was sure. Long legs, blond hair, really startlingly nice chest. She was a looker but nobody he'd ever met before.
The guy behind her, though.
"Shit," Mike said, walking past the woman and holding out his hand. "You know, with all the cloak and dagger shit going on around me, not to mention Kyle here, I was starting to wonder. Goddamn, Tommy, it's nice to see you're alive. When I heard you died . . . Well, it was like losing Cally all over again. I fucking cried a goddamned river."
"Sorry about that, Boss," Tommy said, shaking his hand.
Mike grabbed the former soldier in a bear hug, trying not to tear up.
"I just wish some of the old guys were here to see this," Mike said. "I heard Stewart died in a shuttle accident."
"Actually," the woman said from behind him. "He's your son-in-law. And still very much alive."
"He married Michelle?" Mike asked, turning around. "Since when?"
"No, Dad, he married me. And, by the way, you've got some grandkids. I know I've changed, it's a long story, but . . ."
"Cally?" Mike asked, quietly, holding his hand out to touch her hair. "Is it really you? Is Dad . . . ?"
"Well, he was until about five years ago," Cally said, brushing the hand away.
"What happened to him?" Mike was confused by the anger he saw in his daughter's eyes. It was clearly directed at him.
"You shot him."
"I think I've got this all straight, now," Mike said, taking a sip of pretty adequate moonshine. "You and Dad weren't killed by the nukes. You got saved by these Bane Sidhe guys and you've been an assassin for the last fifty years."
"And thief," Cally said. "Don't forget thief."
"Not knocking it," Mike said. "And the mission five years back when we were trying to capture some rebels, that was you?"
"We really pissed the Darhel off taking down the Epetar clan and they came down on the Bane Sidhe like a hammer," Tommy supplied. "That was after the split, but our faction covered them so they could get away."
"Your guys killed more than Papa," Cally said tightly. "We lost a bunch of good people that day. Quite a few of them kin. Your troops killed some of your own . . . cousins? Nephews? It gets kind of confusing."
"And this guy is Tommy's son," Mike said, gesturing at "Kyle" whose real name appeared to be Jason.
"Grandson," Jason corrected. "And you're . . . I'm trying to figure out if I'm an uncle or cousin or what. My grandmother is your sister."
"I don't have a sister," Mike said.
"Half sister," Cally corrected. "Mama Kline. Your dad's daughter by Shari. Who you'll probably meet some time. She's still trying to figure out if she's supposed to love you for being her step-son, sort of, or hate you for killing
Papa."
"I'm trying to figure out if I'm supposed to hate myself for killing him," Mike said, working his jaw. "I hardly saw him growing up, I don't know he's alive for fifty years then you guys tell me I killed him. I remember the sniper. I can believe it was him, it explains why the guy didn't take the shot. But . . . Dammit!"
"It's a screwed up world we live in," Cally said, working her own jaw.
"One you've been trying to unscrew," Mike said. "While I've been wasting time killing Posleen. You could have recruited me!"
"That actually never crossed our minds," Cally said after a pause. "I have no clue why, but it never crossed our minds."
"You were doing good work where you were," Tommy said. "I talked with Papa one time about it. He felt you had a career, why drag you into all this crap?"
"I was killing Posleen because it was the only thing I had left, Tom," Mike said. "If I'd known . . . God, Cally, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"It's . . ." Cally stopped and shook her head, trying not to cry. "I was going to say it's okay. But it's not. I don't know if it will ever be okay. But I forgive you, okay? I mean, emotionally, I'm having a hard time with it. But I know you couldn't know. Hell, as I said, your guys were just doing their jobs. They didn't know, you didn't know, who you were fighting. And, hell, it was . . ."
"I remember," Mike said. "It was a very strange battle."
"It was a good day to die," Tommy said. "I never understood that saying until that day."
"We also didn't ask questions," Mike said. "We should have asked more questions."
"You ask questions and actually find answers . . ." Tommy said and shrugged.
"Ackia," Mike said, closing his eyes.
"I don't get the reference," Cally said.
"The name of R-1496 Delta in the local language," Mike said.
"Got it," Cally said, nodding. "If I haven't said it, Dad, I'm sorry about that, too. When we found out it was too late to do anything. Even if we could have."
"Well, thank you for rescuing my sorry ass," Mike said, shaking his head. "You took a risk on that and I appreciate it."
"We . . . couldn't have if you hadn't had real value," Cally said, her eyes dark.
"Would you have tried?" Mike asked.
"Honestly, I don't know," Cally said. "Save the corps? Oh hell yeah. Try to snatch you out of Fleet Central? Without the help we got?"
"After I'd killed Papa," Mike said, nodding. "Not sure I'd want that dilemma."
"No real dilemma," Cally said. "I thought about it just now and it stopped being one. 'What Would Papa Do?' Figure out a way to get you out."
"Thank you," Mike said. "Surprisingly enough, you're not the only person who's thought that over the years. Less lately, admittedly. Papa was never a large-force commander," Mike added with a sad smile.
"Wouldn't have wanted to be," Tommy said. "Getting paperwork out of him was worse than Colonel Cutprice."
"So, I'm under the impression this wasn't a purely social call," Mike said. "I hope you'd have eventually forgiven me enough to tell me you were alive, but . . ."
"Not a social call at all," Cally said. "There's a meet going on, soon, between the mutineers on the Moon, Fleet and some other factions. You and I and Tommy have to attend."
"Like that's going to happen," Mike said. "Given the situation, I'll put myself in Fleet Strike's hands?"
"There's a new invasion," Tommy said. "Unknown race. It's already struck deep into the Federation. The Darhel are freaking out and for some reason so are the mentats. It's Michelle and her faction that's arranged the meet. They're guaranteeing everyone's safety. Yours, ours, the mutineers. The Darhel's, for that matter, since they're open season after the attack on the corps."
"They were the ones that helped spring you," Cally said. "The same mentat we're dealing with for this meet."
"Well, I hope I can trust an ally of my daughter," Mike said, shaking his head. "Who's going to be at the meeting?"
"Oh, you're going to love the guest list."
Fortunately, it was a big conference table. And the introductions took some time.
"My name, as some of you know, is Mentat Thomas Coates," Thomas said. He was standing at the head of the table and began the introductions. "General Tam Wesley, Fleet Strike Chief of Staff for Operations. Tir Dol Ron, the Darhel Cooperative liaison for Human Affairs. Indowy Aelool, Clan Leader of the Creen Indowy clan and senior member of the Bane Sidhe. Colonel Glennis Leblanc, Commander Fleet Strike mutinous faction. Admiral Krim Hartono, Second Fleet Commander. Cally O'Neal, commander O'Neal faction of the Bane Sidhe. Lieutenant General Michael O'Neal, Fleet Strike."
Fleet Strike headquarters was on land that had formerly been the town of Fredericksburg, Virginia.
Early in the Posleen War some of the ravaging Posleen hordes had jumped the gun on the attack on Earth and gotten in an early lick. The Posleen did not, by and large, investigate their targets before landing. They simply warped in and landed on the most convenient spot. By simple function of orbital mechanics, that tended to be eastern shores.
In the case of this attack, the main Posleen force that hit the U.S., over four million of the centaurs, had landed around the town of Fredericksburg. In an unbreakable circle. Then most of them attacked inward.
Despite heroic defenses by the Engineering company based in the town and local militias, it had inevitably fallen. The Posleen, however, considered it a hollow victory. Not only had they taken horrific casualties for such a minor mopping up operation, the defenders had set off a fuel-air explosion as their last measure of defiance and gutted the invading force.
A few survivors had been found in underground hiding places, but the population of the town had been virtually wiped out.
After the Siege was broken and the town retaken, Fleet Strike had built first its primary training center, then its headquarters, on the site of Fredericksburg. Fredericksburg had become, like the Alamo before it, a legend of courage and resistance to the absolute bitter end. Fleet Strike headquarters was its ultimate memorial.
The main headquarters was on Maryes Heights, the former site of Mary Washington College. Across the Rappahannock River was Strike Training Base Fort Fredericksburg. Barracks, rec facilities, motorpools and landing zones stretched for miles around the twin buildings. The main town had been partially rebuilt to last known designs of the buildings. The sole exception was the building that had been used for the fuel-air bomb where a memorial now stood. A scale model replica had been contemplated then rejected on the basis that it was a very ugly building, anyway.
Mostly underground, the upper floors of the Headquarters was a detailed reproduction of Kensington House, the former home of part of the Washington family. The meeting was taking place in what had once been the main ballroom, now recreated with the famous worked plaster ceiling and golden silk-covered walls. Spring light streamed in the floor-to-ceiling windows to illuminate the gathering. It wasn't illuminating many happy faces.
"I wish to open by formally protesting the outrageous interference in a just quelling of a mutinous faction by the Sohon mentats," Admiral Hartono said as soon as Thomas closed his mouth. "And by referring to a legally convicted criminal by his rank!"
"My job is usually to kill people like you," Cally said smoothly. "And the next time I hear any shit out of you, that's exactly what I'm going to do."
"There will be no violence in these proceedings," Thomas said. "And, Admiral, another outburst such as that will result in your being silenced throughout the rest of the proceedings."
"I protest the nature of this . . ." The admiral's face suddenly turned red as his mouth continued to open and close silently. He waved his arms angrily but not a sound came out of his mouth.
"This is the nature of our current situation," Thomas said, waving a hand and bringing up a picture of the local arm of the galaxy. There didn't seem to be any holographic projector involved. "A group of unknown invaders has entered Federation space—" He stopped at a tap on the door. "Enter!"
"General," the Fleet Strike sergeant manning the door said, looking nervous. "There's a Himmit ship on the landing pad. They've sent a request for safe conduct to this meeting. Say that they have information we need."
"Mentat Coates?" General Wesley said, raising an eyebrow.
"Bring him in," Thomas said, closing his eyes for a moment. "Only the representative. Tell his companions they need to remain outside. And they can't hide from me."
Mike had seen quite a few Himmit in his time. The purple froglike beings all looked pretty much the same, though, once they revealed themselves. Well, until he met this one.
