by David Gunn
‘I’ll try to do better next time.’
The colonel looks at me and shakes his head.
Rachel has vomit down her front; Haze has a nosebleed, as always. Neen is watching his sister, something unreadable in his eyes. Emil is smiling. But we have a couple of people missing. ‘Where’s Iona?’ I demand. ‘And Ajac?’
Neen leads me to the crewpit.
Ajac is on his knees, cradling Iona. Her mouth is open in a scream so loud and long that only its echo is left in the misery of her face. She’s precog, God knows what she felt when the habitat died.
‘Stand her up.’
My slap flips her head to one side. I don’t get to land a second, because the gravity carpet on this ship is so old she hits a bulkhead and lands in a heap beneath a safety notice.
‘Iona,’ I say. Only then does something human return to her eyes.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not impressed with being human either. But it’s what she is and what she’s going to stay. Well, if I have anything to do with it.
‘It was Hekati’s choice.’
She stares at me; they all do.
That’s when I realize not even Haze knows exactly what happened. ‘You saw the size of the piece that the Enlightened ripped from her shell,’ I tell them. ‘Hekati was dying. She chose to take the Silver Fist ship with her.’
‘Hekati’s gone?’ Ajac says.
‘Everything’s gone. It’s just us now, and half a million new rocks.’
When Iona starts crying, Neen puts his arm round her shoulders and tries to wipe away her tears. I can think of half a dozen more useful things he could do.
‘Check our food supplies,’ I tell him. ‘And look at the oxygen levels.’
He salutes.
‘Take her with you.’
Iona might as well learn how life works around here.
It’s a while before they come back and Iona is still adjusting the buckles on her spacesuit when she does. Grief does that to people. After the slaughter at Fort Libidad, I fucked myself stupid for a week.
‘We’ve got food for eight days,’ says Neen. ‘And the oxygen scrubbers are working at near ninety-nine point ninety-nine.’ He means we’ll starve before we choke.
This is a Z-class tug, mining issue. It’s not built for speed. It’s not built for system-hopping. The damn thing is designed to drag rocks from here to Hekati.
But that is OK.
Because I’m Sven Tveskoeg, Death’s Head lieutenant, Obsidian Cross second class, and I have a better plan up my sleeve. ‘Haze,’ I say. ‘Fix me a call.’
We’ve been here before.
‘You want me to spam the whole galaxy?’
My grin is wide enough to scare Colonel Vijay. ‘Hell, no,’ I say. ‘I want a one-to-one with General Jaxx.’ And that scares the colonel even more. All the same, he asks only one question.
‘Sure you know what you’re doing?’
‘No, sir.’
‘He makes a bad enemy.’
‘Sir,’ I say, ‘we can die here or take our chances with your father.’
‘All right,’ he says a minute later. ‘Make your call.’ I’m not sure it should have taken Colonel Vijay that long to make his decision.
Haze sets up the link.
I don’t know how he does it. That’s fine, I don’t want to know. I just check it can’t be traced and that it can’t be broken. When Haze begins to talk about piggybacking comm sats, I wave him into silence and stand to attention in front of the lenz, only to stand myself down.
I’d send the Aux out of here. But out of here is free-floating in space, and even I am not that hardcore. Although I open my mouth to issue the order.
‘Go wait in the airlock.’
They look at me.
‘You can helmet up if you want.’
The Aux go as they are. It shows touching faith.
‘Sir,’ I say, when Colonel Vijay turns to follow.
‘I’ll be with the others,’ he says.
Having heard the inner door lock, and watched the light flicker on that tells me I can open the outer door if I want, and dump them all into space, I leave the Aux and Colonel Vijay to their thoughts. Who knows? If I were to dump them, maybe I’d have enough oxygen to take me somewhere useful.
And maybe I won’t.
‘General . . .’
‘Who is this?’
Haze has done what I ask to the letter. I am through on the general’s private line, minus a picture. And it doesn’t sound as if General Jaxx is too happy about being interrupted.
‘It’s me,’ I say, fumbling with screen controls.
Not the greatest opening line in the world, but it’s too late to worry about that. As I punch buttons in irritation, something shifts and a lenz starts working.
‘Tveskoeg . . . ? Now this is a surprise.’
I can almost hear his thoughts turn over. As a woman behind him is busy forcing her full breasts into a skimpy bra, I have obviously caught him at a bad time. It’s Caliente, from the brothel on board the general’s own mother ship. The fact she smiles when she sees me doesn’t help either.
‘Go,’ he says. For a second I think he is talking to me. And then I realize he isn’t. ‘I’ll call for you later.’
Her smile tightens. Turning her back on both of us, she climbs into her skirt, slips on a blouse and vanishes off screen. A second later, I hear a cabin door slamming. It sounds so close it makes me wonder what I’m doing here.
Only I know what I’m doing.
I’m obeying orders, more or less. And using my initiative. Even a general like Jaxx can hardly ask for more. Although he will. Generals always do.
‘Tveskoeg,’ he says. ‘I thought you were dead . . .’
‘Not here,’ I tell him. ‘And not yet.’ I end explaining that’s an Aux saying, and we’re sticking with it.
‘Aux,’ he says thoughtfully. ‘That’s your little group, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘How long have you been together?’
I admit it’s only a matter of months. And he laughs at the idea of us having traditions, then decides it is not a laughing matter after all. Seems he’s recently taken a call from Paper Osamu. She regretted to announce I had been killed in a tragic accident. When I ask where, the general names a planet three systems away from here. I was on safari, a guest of a well-known anthropologist.
After telling me what anthropologist means, General Jaxx admits he did find it unlikely. ‘So where are you?’ he says. ‘And what’s with that absurd arm?’
‘Combat issue,’ I tell him. ‘Killed a couple of Vals with it.’
‘Did you now?’ he says.
‘Yes, sir. Got their implants in a jar. Intend to ship them back to Val Central if I get the chance. Feel we owe them that.’
‘And you’re where now?’
On a mining tug, floating in space, off the edge of a dead habitat. Where the fuck do you think we are? I don’t say it, obviously. But something about his question worries me.
Of course, the fact I’m talking to General Jaxx at all should worry me. Any general is dangerous. A Death’s Head general takes danger to new heights. And Jaxx commands the other generals. If half the things said about him are true, you could float entire planets in the blood he has spilt.
Life was simpler in the Legion. Only I’m not in the Legion any more.
‘Sir,’ I say. ‘Did Paper Osamu say why she wanted us? I mean originally, when the U/Free first borrowed the Aux?’ This is big-picture stuff, not something a lieutenant should ask a general. I know that, even before General Jaxx scowls.
He’s about to break the connection.
‘All I’m asking,’ I say, ‘is, was the job legit?’
The general looks puzzled.
‘It was one job, right?’
‘Right, sir.’
I ignore him. What’s he going to do?
‘One job, that’s right?’
His nod is slight. He seems to be watch
ing, and I can see his eyes focus on something behind me. It’s probably one of the safety signs. Our tub is littered with them: although I can’t see the point. Anyone who doesn’t understand that explosives go bang or stepping into space without a suit kills is too stupid to be alive in the first place.
‘Sven,’ he says, ‘where are you?’
‘In a Z-class mining tug.’
He sighs. ‘I don’t want to know, do I?’
‘Sir,’ I say, surprising myself. ‘What was the job?’
The general glances out of screen, stands up and disappears. When he gets back, he’s clutching a floating lenz. This says some interesting things about his sex life. Although who am I kidding? I’d probably record my own, if I could afford the kit.
‘Capture or kill,’ he says. ‘You already know the target.’
Except I don’t, or maybe I do . . . One of us is in for a shock, and it is probably him. And since generals don’t like shocks, and I don’t like floating around in space miles from home, I am going to have to be careful how I word this.
‘Did you know about the party?’
‘On arrival?’ He nods, his smile mocking. ‘Oh yes,’ he says. ‘We heard all about your party. Quite the social animal.’
‘And did you hear about the person I killed?’
He goes still.
‘Sven,’ he says. ‘No one died at that party.’
‘They didn’t?’
‘No,’ he says firmly. ‘They didn’t. There was, however, a tragic accident later that evening. As you know—’ He catches himself. ‘Well, maybe you don’t.’
General Jaxx shakes his head.
‘Oregon Marx, the U/Free president,’ he says. ‘Died in a fall. You had nothing to do with that . . .’
‘I didn’t?’
Turns out the general isn’t telling me. It’s a question. ‘Sven,’ he says. ‘Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with that.’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with that.’
He sucks his teeth. Now generals don’t suck their teeth. Militia troopers suck their teeth. And then he looks at the lenz, checking it really is turned off. And he flips open a pad to pass his fingers across the top.
‘This line,’ he says.
‘Is secure . . . Haze set it up,’ I add, when the general looks doubtful.
‘Your pet Enlightened?’
‘Yes.’ I had forgotten he knew about that.
‘That party,’ he says. ‘Nothing happened.’
‘No, sir.’
‘You understand?’
‘Completely, sir,’ I say. ‘At that party Paper Osamu’s grandfather didn’t ask me to kill the president . . .’
The general shuts his eyes.
‘What about Hekati, sir . . . ? Also the general and the mother ship. What’s our position on those?’
He looks up from under half-open eyelids. And I’ve seen cats torturing half-dead mice look cuddlier. ‘Hekati,’ he says. ‘The general . . . Mother ship.’ A space is left between each item.
‘Yes, sir,’ I say. ‘What’s our position on those?’
‘Sven,’ he says. ‘There is no our . . . I’m here; you’re floating in a tin can somewhere. And this conversation is over.’
‘I know about the Ninth.’
General Jaxx halts, his hand an inch away from a switch that will shut me off and leave me floating out here. Because I have just realized something. The U/Free think we’re dead. So they’re not going to come racing out here to collect us either. But someone might find us, and he is not sure he can take that risk.
‘Where are the others?’ he asks me.
‘In the airlock, sir.’
The general looks at me, very strangely.
‘What are they doing in the airlock?’
‘Waiting, sir. I locked them all in there. Didn’t want them overhearing this conversation.’
General Jaxx sweeps his hand back across his skull, and then discreetly wipes his hand on his uniform trousers. Buttoning his shirt, he tucks it in and stands up to put on his jacket.
‘If I tell you to dump them all into space?’
‘Then I pull the lever, sir.’
‘I believe you would.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He sighs. ‘You have no notion,’ he says, ‘how tempting I find that idea.’ Sitting down again, he leans forward. ‘This was a simple mission, Sven. A basic infiltrate and terminate. Sounds to me like you messed up.’
Thinking back over the past three weeks, I can see how he might think that.
‘What are your casualties?’
‘Franc, sir.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What about enemy losses?’
‘Don’t know, sir.’
He must hear something in my voice, because he leans closer to the lenz. ‘Sven,’ he says, ‘give me a figure.’
I shake my head, but it is not insolence. I really don’t know. ‘How many people are there on a mother ship, sir?’
He sits back. ‘You destroyed a mother ship?’
‘Yes, sir. It killed Hekati—’ I hesitate. ‘Well, it wounded Hekati.’ My mouth tastes sour with the recollection. It will be a while before I scrub the habitat’s dying scream from my memory. ‘The mother ship split,’ I tell him. ‘Birthed a cruiser.’
‘We’re talking about Victory First Last and Always?’
What does he think we’re talking about? That’s the problem with senior officers. They’re too busy thinking about half a dozen other things to listen to what is being said.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘So we’re talking about an Uplift general?’
‘No, sir. I’m talking about General Tournier.’ This is getting more complicated than I like. And something in the general’s gaze tells me I know too much for his comfort or my safety.
‘General Tournier died in battle, gloriously.’
‘I’m sure he did, sir.’
‘OctoV announced it. General Tournier died in battle. As did the entire Ninth Regiment. They fought heroically, to the last man.’
‘Ah,’ I say. ‘That explains it . . .’
He asks the obvious question, Explains what?
And I’m doing my best to come up with an answer when I think of Franc, whose self-inflicted scars were the only things tying her to reality. And before that, something a colonel once said after Haze referred to a dead Uplifted as a machine.
I have my answer.
‘General Tournier had braids . . .’
‘Sven.’
‘Braids, sir. All the senior officers did. And there were . . .’ I try to remember. ‘At least a hundred of them, maybe more. Many more.’
‘A thousand died at Jade3.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m sure they did. Died gloriously.’
‘You’re saying that’s a lie?’ The general’s voice is hard. He’s lost his silky smoothness, skipped the bit where his words are meant to go icy.
‘No, sir. I’m saying the Uplifted brought them back to life.’
‘Fuck,’ he says. ‘You’re good at this.’
It’s the first time I’ve ever heard Jaxx swear. I’m negotiating for my life here; we’re both aware of that. I’m negotiating for the lives of my troopers. And then there is Aptitude. I swore to her mother that I would stick around to protect her. I intend to keep that promise.
‘Sir,’ I say, my voice firm. ‘The Enlightened obviously resurrected an entire regiment.’ Sounds like the truth to me. And it will be the truth by the time I’ve finished with it.
‘Go on,’ he says.
‘I don’t imagine the U/Free knew about that. But, honestly, how could we be expected to sign a treaty with our own dead?’
‘Sven,’ the general says. ‘Talk me through this.’
———
We get to the bit where the Silver Fist cruiser sends fighters after us and we kill them. And then hide in the mirror dock of a habitat. ‘Where you found the tug?’
‘And then?’
‘Franc flew a suicide mission.’
The general looks interested. ‘How did you choose?’
‘She volunteered.’
He smiles, because that pleases him. He’s impressed by stuff like that. And his smile gets wider as I run him through the rest, how we destroyed a B79 bomber and crashed an epsilon-class cruiser into a force field and used the power drain to make our escape in a mining tug. Although his smile falters when I tell him about persuading Hekati to explode.
‘She was dying?’
‘Almost dead,’ I say. ‘Beyond saving.’
‘Good,’ he says. ‘The U/Free will want to know that.’
It is the first thing he’s said that suggests I won’t be spending the rest of eternity floating on the edge of an asteroid field. His next sentence confirms it.
‘I’ll put in a call,’ he says. ‘Talk to Paper Osamu myself. I’m sure she’ll be with you soon enough.’
‘Sir . . .’
He looks at me.
‘Thought you might want to collect us yourself.’
Set the hook, my old lieutenant used to say. Set the hook and reel them in. Only, this time, it’s not just a saying. Well, the reeling in bit isn’t — we will get to that.
‘And why would I want to collect you?’ General Jaxx is too interested to be outraged.
‘Three reasons, sir.’ Opening my shirt, I hold up the planet buster.
‘Is that what I think it is?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘It’s a good start,’ he says. ‘What are the others?’
So I tell him the tug is tied to the biggest chunk of crystal-line carbon I’ve ever seen. And he knows what our glorious leader is like about diamonds.
‘And the third?’
‘Vijay,’ I say.
The general closes his eyes. It’s brief, and he catches it fast. General Jaxx doesn’t show weakness or forgive those who see it in him. With his son’s name, I undo all the good I have done myself in the previous ten minutes.
‘He died well?’ There’s more hope than belief in the question.
‘He did as ordered,’ I say. ‘Killed General Tournier. Cut his throat and hacked off his traitorous head. I have the head with me.’
‘That makes four things,’ says the general.
