Drysine Legacy (The Spiral Wars Book 2)

by Joel Shepherd

  “Wonderful,” Dale muttered.

  “She has made one demand though.”

  “Only one?” Erik wondered.

  Trace grimaced a little. “She wants a new body. She thinks she can help us make one.”

  * * *

  After the briefing, Trace was in her quarters when Kono entered. A while ago she might have had to ask Lisbeth to leave first, but these days Lisbeth was in quarters as little as Trace. The ability of that rich, privileged girl to make herself a necessary part of the crew was for Trace one of the greatest marvels of the journey so far.

  She sat on the room’s single chair by the desk and wallscreen, and gestured for Kono to sit on Lisbeth’s empty bed. He did, having to duck his head a little beneath the top bunk. Staff Sergeant Gideon Kono did not fit easily into small spaces.

  “So,” she said to him. “Any idea why you’re here?”

  “I’m not much on guessing games, Major.” He didn’t look all that happy, Trace thought. Kono was somber-serious most times, but rarely angry. Today he looked darkly displeased.

  “You told the company commander you’d shoot her,” Trace reminded him. “If she did something that might have proven necessary.”

  Kono made a face. “So I did.”

  Trace folded her arms, frowning as she wondered how to play this. Kono’s mood was not what she’d expected. “I should have you shot,” she ventured.

  “Fine,” said Kono. “Shoot me.”

  He knew damn well she wasn’t going to shoot him. She’d been trying to provoke a reaction, and had gotten nothing. “You know, I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark and say that something else is bothering you. Out with it.”

  “I’d like a transfer from Command Squad.”

  Trace blinked. “Why?”

  “You,” said Kono, meeting her gaze properly for the first time. “With your death wish.”

  Trace sat straighter in her chair, her eyes hardening. “What about my death wish, Staff Sergeant?”

  Kono sat up straighter as well, though that was harder beneath the low bunk. She’d called him by rank, and now things were far more serious than just two friends having a chat in quarters. “You were going to leave us, Major,” Kono accused her. For the first time there was emotion in his eyes. Anger. “You were going to abandon your command and go it alone.”

  “I was considering the possibility. A larger group drew more attention. And Command Squad together did draw pursuers. If I’d gone alone, I’d have gotten through and seen what I needed to see with less opposition.”

  “Major it’s my job as Command Squad leader to protect you. I can’t do that if you’re determined to get yourself killed.”

  “And what if I’m determined to complete the mission, Staff Sergeant?” Her voice hardened now, along with her expression. “Would you have a problem with that too?”

  “Major in my professional opinion, completing that mission did not require you to go on a solo suicide run.”

  “So now you think you know my job better than me?”

  “No Major. But you should have been thinking about sending me. Or Corporal Rael.”

  “I’m a better rifleman than you,” Trace told him. It wasn’t meant to hurt, because it was true, and Kono knew it. “In or out of full-G.”

  “Major, we’re on a long mission here,” Kono tried again. “Phoenix has a long fight ahead of her, and spending the Company Commander’s life on one small part of that mission does not seem like a smart…”

  “I’m not going to debate my command decisions with you, Staff Sergeant,” she cut him off. “If you have a problem with my judgement in command of this company, you’re welcome to take it up with the platoon leaders.”

  “Your command decisions aren’t the damn problem,” Kono growled. “Major.” Any of her marines were welcome to disagree with her on substantial issues when the time was right, but most of them would have shown at least a little anxiety doing so. ‘Giddy’ Kono showed none. “Your problem is that your Kulina ethos means that you deliberately downplay the value of your own life. Now as a moral thing that’s fine. It’s admirable. But as a strategic thing, in our current situation, it’s nuts. You’re tasked with commanding this company. I’m tasked with keeping you alive. I simply can’t do that job if you won’t respect what it requires. You won’t let me do my job. It’s like playing babysitter for a kid who hurls herself onto every sharp object she can find. I’m a professional like you are, and I find this professional situation untenable. I quit.”

  He was upset, she realised. He covered it with anger like a lot of tough marines did, the men in particular. But mostly it was upset caused by fear, in this case at something that had nearly happened, and been narrowly avoided. It upset him that she’d even considered it. And it upset him that she’d been prepared to abandon him, to abandon them all, in order to complete the mission. It made her love him even more, but she couldn’t show it. Men like Kono did not follow her because she was soft.

  “You’re not allowed to quit,” she told him. “Request denied.” He looked elsewhere, with an expression as though he’d smelt something very bad. Obviously he had more he’d like to say… but even he knew there was a line beyond which he could not go, and he was standing on it. “But I will take what you’ve said into consideration.”

  He looked at her. Mildly astonished, but hiding it well. “You will?” he asked skeptically.

  “Do others feel as you do?”

  “I couldn’t speak for them, Major.”

  “Bullshit, as Command Squad leader it’s your job to speak for them.”

  Kono took a deep breath. “The entire company has broad concern that you will one day get yourself killed doing something unnecessarily reckless. But I think you’re already aware of that.”

  Trace nodded slowly. She was. “Thank you Staff Sergeant. You’re dismissed.”

  “Major.” He got to his feet. “And my punishment for speaking out of line in combat?”

  “You know perfectly well that I can’t punish my Command Squad leader without diminishing his authority before his marines,” Trace said drily. “That means that you have effective carte blanche to misbehave all you like, without punishment. You have this privilege, and you abused it. The marines under you are not so lucky.”

  Kono swallowed, and glanced at his feet. Chagrined before her stare, for the first time. “Yes Major. It won’t happen again.”

  “I know.” She jerked her head toward the door. Kono left. Trace sat where she was, thinking about it for several minutes longer, unmoving. Then she got up, adjusted her collar and hair in the mirror, and followed Kono out the door.

  In a corridor near Medbay One, she found Colonel Khola, walking with the aid of exo-legs and a hand on the wall for balance. Privates Rajesh and Cuoca walked a slow escort, rifles down and a wary three steps back, in case the legendary Kulina tried something.

  “So,” she said, stopping before him. Khola stopped his slow walk with a grimace, and leaned again on the wall. “How are you feeling?”

  He didn’t look too bad. The corpsmen said that most of the torture appeared to have been electrical, with few lasting physical scars. But he was no longer the youngest man in the service, and such things could take a physical and mental toll on even the healthiest, Kulina or otherwise.

  “The rescue,” he said, looking down and breathing hard from the effort. He should of course have still been in bed. Trace understood perfectly why he was not, and sympathised. Beds were for sleeping or dying. “Your idea?”

  “Hell no. That was the LC. I thought it was a stupid waste of resources and told him so. He threatened to relieve me.” They still hadn’t thrashed that one out either. It was coming, Trace knew. The prospect didn’t bother her particularly. Erik was a work in progress, and she would keep chipping away at the emerging form until it acquired some kind of agreeable shape.

  “It was a stupid waste of resources,” Khola agreed. “But karma intersects at curious junctions, and so
my course continues.” He considered her, with tired eyes. She’d always felt that those eyes somehow saw more of her than any others… until she’d met Captain Pantillo. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Yes. Evidence of an alo-deepynine alliance.” Challenging him. Khola showed no surprise. “As I’ve already told you. And you didn’t care.”

  Khola smiled faintly, and shrugged. “It changes nothing.”

  “It changes everything. You have to drop this stupid crusade of yours and tell Fleet what we’ve found out here. Tell everyone. Humanity is in terrible danger — already the alo-deepynine alliance is looking to recruit the sard. They may already have the chah’nas. Sard will have no problem with the return of deepynines to power in the galaxy, they’d probably prefer it. Chah’nas lust only for power. The two main species who will mind are tavalai and humans. Alo have just used one to depose the other from power, and now we’re next — they’ll take out their obstacles one by one until they’ve restored everything they lost from the Machine Age and more.”

  Khola nodded sombrely. “I’ll tell them. But it still changes nothing. Your Lieutenant Dale met with Supreme Commander Chankow before he died. He heard how many of your revelations Chankow already knew. This is no surprise to anyone, Major.”

  “And you trust that Fleet will do something about it?” Trace asked dangerously. “Fleet is more interested in war against Worlders, and using the chah’nas to do it.”

  Khola considered her for a long moment. “I was wrong about you Major. You do still have the human cause at heart. And your motivations are as selfless as any Kulina’s. I will always disagree with your current course, but I accused you unfairly before. Perhaps even from personal spite.” Trace frowned. An apology? She couldn’t recall Khola ever giving one, to anyone, for anything. “These false things can divert the true course of karma. Please consider this an amends.”

  He extended his hand. The look in his wise, lidded eyes was as honest and open as ever. Trace knew Khola to be many things, but a manipulator and deceiver was not one of them. This apology was genuine, and perhaps unprecedented. An act that could perhaps reroute the flow of karma back to a better, truer course.

  She smiled, and grasped his hand.

  He yanked her forward, and the left hand flashed for her neck, lighting fast… only Trace caught it, swung and slammed him into the wall. Two handed she fought for wrist-leverage to pry the medical scalpel from his hand, and he lashed with exo-leg-assisted power as the blade fell. Trace took the kick, yanked him forward and took advantage of his poor footwork to spin behind him and apply a choke hold.

  “You forget that I know you too,” she hissed in his ear as he struggled and flailed against the grip that blocked his airway. He slammed her back against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist and clinging like a spider. Khola gasped and strained for breath, as the horrified marines searched for a shot but refrained with their Major in the line of fire. “And now we’ve come full circle, because I know Fleet told you to keep me alive. So now you’ve betrayed your sacred oath, you fucking hypocrite. And that’s why you were really apologising.”

  “There’s only one sacred oath of Kulina,” Khola wheezed. “And only one of us has… has…”

  He collapsed face-first on the deck, and Trace kept the choke in place for a few seconds to be sure. Then she collected the scalpel from the deck alongside, and stood up.

  “Don’t hurt him,” she told the privates as they rushed to secure him. “He’s out, he’s no threat for now.”

  “Major, I’m sorry!” Private Rajesh exclaimed as Cuoca secured the unconscious Colonel. “I didn’t know he had that… I mean, we searched him and…”

  “That’s okay,” said Trace. “I knew.” Or she’d guessed. And she thought of what Erik was going to say to her, about Phoenix marines and basic non-combat security tasks. She nearly rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  Cuoca held Khola’s wrists behind his back, a knee in his shoulder blades. In this condition, Khola was so far below his best there would be no more trouble from him, Trace was sure. He’d only had just enough left for a final attempt at her, if she’d been dumb enough to fall for it.

  “Major, we asked if we should restrain him before,” said Cuoca, breathless and puzzled. “We thought word got to you, and you said no.”

  “That’s right,” said Trace.

  Rajesh stared. “Did you expect him to try this?”

  Trace winked at the private, and gave him a light whack on the cheek. “Stay awake boys. Restraints on his bed, and could someone please try to keep track of where all the sharp objects go? That’d be ace, thanks.”

  Truth was, she thought as she walked away, she hadn’t truly expected it. She’d just wanted to know for sure. And now she knew that every time Khola tried to kill her, he only convinced her even more of how right she’d been to leave.

  39

  There was no time to haul out the dress uniforms. Neither marines nor crew had enough personal storage space to keep dress uniforms in accessible lockers, so on long cruises the fancy stuff went into long-term storage. Getting it all out would require an effort from crew who were already overworked and under-slept. They were still technically in a combat zone, given that everywhere Phoenix went lately became a combat zone whatever it had been previously, and dress uniforms in a combat zone were as useful as bells on a rifle.

  But there were jackets over jumpsuits, and hats of any available sort, so that stained, worn and scruffy as they were, Phoenix’s crew made a presentable display when arrayed row upon vertical row along the ledges and gantries of Assembly. A presentable display of a working, fighting combat crew, Erik thought as he looked up and about at them all, on the ledges before the rows of racked marine armour and weapons. Only about a quarter of crew and marines were here — in light of continuing threats the crew were needed constantly at their posts, and safety regs forbade any more than a hundred and fifty in Assembly at any time due to the lack of G-slings in an emergency. But there was camera vision taken for later viewing, so everyone would get to see eventually.

  Erik supposed it would have been more dramatic to save himself for last, but it meant more to the crew to have their new brass pinned on them by a captain than an LC, so obviously he had to go first. Chief Petty Officer Goldman sounded the bosun’s whistle when he first came in, and everyone snapped to attention in their vertical rows. Two others held the twin flags of Fleet and United Forces. It felt strange to salute the flags, given everything that had transpired between Phoenix and Fleet, but everyone had agreed it would have felt more strange to do the ceremony without the flags, and perhaps unlucky too.

  And so Erik did the salute, spun on his heel and marched along the line of first-shift bridge crew, Command Squad and Alpha Platoon marines on the other side, and then stopped before Trace. Erik fancied he did a parade turn somewhat better than her, and showed it, then stopped before her with a precise stamp, and saluted.

  Trace might have smiled, ghostingly faint as she saluted back, and opened the small, velvet case in her other hand. She looked different beneath the officer’s hat she rarely wore — Assembly was to be considered ‘outdoors’ for formal purposes, and was thus the only place on Phoenix where uniform hats could properly be worn, with salutes given and received. Seeing the hat reminded Erik of just how rarely Trace ever relied on rank or trappings of any kind to garner respect from anyone. Something to aspire to, Erik thought, and could not help his heart thudding a little faster at the sight of captain’s eagle wings in the velvet case.

  Trace removed the Lieutenant Commander’s gold leaf from his collar, then pinned the eagles with very little ceremony. Erik thought she must have practised a few times, it wasn’t like she’d done it very often. Another salute, and that was that. Surely there was more to it? And as his gaze travelled along the line of faces watching, he knew that of course there had been far more to it. The audition had been long and hard, and this was just the final act. He still did not be
lieve in his heart that he deserved it, but he was used to that by now. It was necessary, as Trace would say. Necessity came first, and feelings could wait.

  He then took his place at Trace’s side, and accepted a similar case from Lieutenant Shilu. Inside were a commander’s silver leaves, which he then had the pleasure of pinning on his friend Suli Shahaim, after first removing her lieutenant’s bars. She looked quite emotional, which surprised him. Though really, he thought, Suli was nearly twice his age, and had been doing this a hell of a lot longer. Lieutenant was the usual ‘cap rank’ for Fleet officers, the one that plenty of good officers reached, but rarely progressed beyond. And now, after so long spent at Captain Pantillo’s right hand, and now at his, she’d finally taken that next step, in one giant stride that skipped the lieutenant commander’s rank completely.

  After salutes, Commander Shahaim left immediately for the bridge to relieve Second Lieutenant Dufresne. In the meantime, there were others to promote, and a line to work through. Erik did the honours with the spacers, and Trace with the marines, though each gave and accepted salutes from both. Among them were Second Lieutenant Rooke, finally promoted to full-louie, while Erik took particular pleasure in promoting Ensign Remy Hale up to Second Lieutenant behind him. While notably among the marines, the once-Staff Sergeant Vijay Khan finally left the service of Family Debogande to take a corporal’s rank — a significant demotion, but he looked pleased enough with it. And perhaps even relieved, to have finally found his place on the ship.

  Dufresne arrived, and received her promotion to full Lieutenant with cool precision, then saluted and left to fetch Draper. Erik saw dry amusement from some of the first-shift bridge crew — Dufresne should have been plenty happy to just make full-louie after so few years out of the Academy. But Draper was getting the real promotion, not her, and she didn’t seem entirely thrilled about it.

  Then came the civilians. There had been some long but mostly constructive debates about it first, command crew sitting late over a meal, squeezed into Erik’s quarters while arguing about what made sense for whom to get what. Lisbeth was of course impossible to induct into Fleet ranks, even in an emergency. Temporary shuttle co-pilot and invaluable Engineering assistant though she was, a family name like Debogande couldn’t just be disregarded. Plus there was the technicality that siblings were never allowed rank on the same ship, partly in case one lost vessel wiped out half a family, and partly because a captain’s impartiality could not be guaranteed when ordering his sister into danger. That Erik was already in that position with her, irrespective of her lack of official rank, did not change anyone’s opinion.