by John Ringo
* * *
The chirp of connection cued him. “Major Pauley, it’s Lt. O’Neal.”
“O’Neal? What the hell do you want?”
“Sir, I am currently in command of the survivors gathered under Qualtren. I was looking for orders, sir.” Mike watched the NCO leading a group across the scattered rubble. The first suit to reach the far side grabbed a piece of rubble and pulled it out. There was a prompt slide into its place and a section of ceiling fell out, momentarily trapping one of the other troops. With some hand motions and swearing on a side channel Green got the group to move more circumspectly.
“Who the hell put you in command?” demanded the distant officer.
“Captain Wright, sir,” answered O’Neal. He was expecting some resistance but the harshness of Pauley’s voice made him instantly wary.
“And where the hell is Wright?”
“Can I deliver my report, sir?”
“No, dangit, I don’t want your dang report. I asked you where Captain Wright was.” The panting of the officer over the circuit was eerie, like an obscene phone call.
“Captain Wright is irretrievable with what we have available, Major. He put me in command of the mobile survivors and put himself into hibernation.”
“Well, the hell if any trumped up Sergeant is going to lead MY troops,” said the major, his voice cracking and ending on a high wavery note. “Where the hell are the rest of the officers.”
“I am the only remaining officer, Major,” O’Neal said reasonably. “There is one Sergeant First Class, three staff sergeants and five sergeants, sir. I am the only officer on sight.”
“I do not have time for this,” spit the commander, “put me through to another officer.”
“Sir, I just said that there are no other officers.”
“Dangit, Lieutenant, get me Captain Wright and get him NOW or I’ll have you COURT-MARTIALLED!”
“Sir,” Mike choked. He began to realize that Major Pauley was not tracking well. The position of the retreating ACS battalion should have prepared him somewhat, but nothing could have fully prepared him, “Sir,… ” he started again.
“Dangit, Lieutenant, get those troops back here NOW! I need all the forces I can get! I don’t have time to eff around with this. Get me through to Captain Wright!”
“Yes, sir,” Mike did not know what to do, but ending this conversation would be a start. “I’ll get the troops to your location as fast as I can and get Captain Wright to contact you as soon as possible.”
“That’s better. And put him back in command, dang you. How dare you usurp command you young puppy! I’ll have you court-martialed for this! Put yourself on report!”
“Yes, sir, right away, sir. Out here.”
* * *
“So you’re saying that your direct chain of command was non-functional?” the Commander replied. “Are you an MD? A psychologist?”
“You’re supposed to be my counsel, not my inquisitor,” Mike said. “No, I’m not an MD or a shrink. But Pauley couldn’t even understand that I was the only officer down there. And come to think of it Captain Brandon and Major Norton both heard Colonel Youngman authorize the Jericho charges.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Robert Brandon retired from service some thirty years ago,” the Commander said. “He took colonization credits but his ship was, unfortunately, lost in transit. Major Charles Norton was killed in action on Earth in 2006. As was Captain Wright. Captain Vero exited the service after the action on Diess and committed suicide shortly thereafter.”
“So you’re saying that I’m the only officer survivor of Diess,” Mike said, his face stony. “Not too surprising. We had a really high casualty rate during the war. Hell, I’m about the only person I know who’s alive from back then. They’re all gone.” He looked at the far wall and shook his head. “All gone.”
“Yes, well, that is regretable,” the Commander said without the slightest tone of regret. “Given any lack of witnesses to this supposed order by Colonel Youngman… ”
“Wait,” Mike said, his brow furrowing. “What is the evidence against me? I mean, what is the prosecution using as evidence?”
“You’re not authorized to have that information,” the Commander replied.
“Oh, that’s just great!” Mike snarled. “They’re saying that I wiped out my corps, they’re saying that I killed a bunch of Indowy on purpose on Diess and I can’t see any of the evidence? Why am I surprised? They shot my fucking STAFF right in front of my eyes! What’s the damned purpose of this fucking trial anyway!” He strained at the bonds, willing to do anything for just one crack at one of these fuckers, including his so-called “Counsel.” But all he could feel was his own bones breaking.
“To see that justice is done, of course,” the Commander said, tonelessly.
“’You are a prisoner because you have been accused,’” Mike said, laughing mirthlessly. “I plead guilty to saving a planet.” He paused and then laughed. “Oh My God! That is what this is all about! If they can convict me from back then then everything I’ve done since doesn’t count, legally, does it? If it’s all a war crime, I’m not owed a single pence, am I?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” the Commander said, apparently puzzled.
“Then you don’t have that need to know, ‘Counselor,’ ” Mike said, chuckling. “Oh, wait, let me tell you. Then you can have a noose around your neck. See how it feels.”
“On the whole… ” the Commander said, suddenly nervous.
“No, seriously, this is a really good story,” Mike said.
“I think this interview is at an end,” the Commander said, standing up.
“The Darhel have been manipulating humans for thirty thousand years,” Mike said, quickly. “There are humans on R-1496 Delta they planted there in cave-man days! And they’re in violation of contract. They owe humans more money than they have in cash. If we call the marker, if I call the marker, they’re bankrupt.”
“Why are you telling me this?” the Commander snarled. “This has nothing to do with your crimes.”
“Because I want to see how many counsellors I can go through,” Mike replied, grinning. “ ‘First thing we do, we kill all the lawyers.’”
* * *
“General O’Neal is being held at the Lunar Fleet Base,” Cally said. “Multiple layers of security and of course it’s on the Moon.”
Cally’s team had taken a real hit with the loss of her grandfather, Michael O’Neal, Sr. The hole was impossible to fill mentally so they’d never filled it physically. That left Cally, Tommy and the Schmidt brothers. That was going to be more than enough. In fact, since direct action was, to say the least, not Harrison’s forte, he’d be hanging back on this one.
“This is going to be interesting,” George Schmidt said. The newest team member had never been adverse to attacking Cally’s plans but his point was always to find the weaknesses, not attack the source. “As in ‘you’re fricking kidding, right?’ They’ve seriously upgraded security procedures since we sprung you. And this time we don’t have a guy on the inside.”
“Which is why we’re not going to get him out during the trial,” Cally said, bringing up another schematic. “He’s either going to be convicted or he’s not. If he’s not, we pick him up from the exit and then get lost, fast. Given that it’s a kangaroo court, he’s going to be convicted. Which means that he’ll be moved to the Lunar Penal facility.”
“We grab him in transit?” Tommy said, blinking. “What if they off him immediately?”
“Then we’re fucked,” Cally admitted. “But he’s going to be moved through the Deeprun Tram. That’s the weak point.”
“A tram that runs through solid rock a thousand feet below the lunar surface?” George said. “How’s that a weak point?”
“It’s one with the right support,” Cally said. “Which we have. The sohon are willing to give us that much support.”
“Okay,” Tommy said, nodding. “I kinda get that one. So t
hat’s getting in and grabbing him. Getting out?”
“I have a friend arranging that,” Cally said.
* * *
It’s Dad, Stewart. Your father in law. Your old boss. Don’t tell me you’re not in.
I know that, honey. James Stewart, nee Quai Kon Chang, looked nothing like the man who had once been a Fleet Strike Lieutenant General. He also didn’t look purely Chinese. One of the more ‘mixed’ races of southeast Asia that were survivors of the Posleen but not pure Han.
And it will fuck with the Darhel, Cally added. The Tongs always like that. That’s why we get along.
I know that, too, Stewart had said. It doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. Look, I’ve gotten promoted in the Tong really fast. That makes enemies. And these guys don’t just talk about you behind your back. There’s more real assassination than character assassination in the Tongs. Doing something like this, with no profit involved, for apparently political and personal reasons, it’s not a good idea. Not if you want me alive to visit on occasion.
I want more than that and you know it. And if you need to get paid to do it, then we’ll figure out a way to pay you.
It’s not going to be cheap.
I don’t think Michelle threw all those Level Nine nanokeys into the pot.
In that case, let’s talk business.
First.
First.
* * *
“So, we’re depending on sohon, whom we don’t know, and some Tong guy we don’t know,” Tommy said, blowing out his cheeks. He wasn’t about to admit that he not only knew Stewart but that they had been acquaintances ‘back when.’ “Cally, you’re asking us to take one hell of a risk using assets we don’t know.”
“If you’ve got a better plan, Thomas, ante up,” Cally said.
“Point.”
* * *
He’d been through three “counsellors” so far. He waited in the trial room in anticipation. The “counsellor” hadn’t been waiting for him this time. He wondered who they’d sacrifice next.
He was only slightly surprised when a Darhel came through the door.
“Since I am privy to the information you’ve been giving to your other counsellors, telling me about it won’t require my removal from the trial,” the Darhel said, sitting down opposite Mike.
“Oh, that’s okay,” Mike said. “I’ll figure something out. Answer one question?”
“We shall trade,” the Darhel said. “I will ask one and you ask one. If you answer me I’ll answer you.”
“Nope,” Mike said, shaking his head. “I’m fully aware of how far you can trust a Darhel. Which is zero. You answer me and I’ll answer you, though. I mean, really, who would you trust more, General Michael O’Neal or another Darhel?”
“Very well,” the Darhel said, acceding to the logic. “Ask your question.”
“Has the trial even started, yet?” Mike asked, wondering what answer he’d get. Or if it would be true.
“Two days ago,” the Darhel said.
“Then why don’t I at least get to watch it?” Mike asked, gesturing with his chin at the screen.
“One question at a time,” the Darhel said, smiling and exposing sharp teeth. “Now for mine. Were you aware that there were Indowy still in the Qualtren Megascraper?”
“Yes,” Mike said, frowning. “I’d run into some trapped in there. But it was destroy the megascraper or lose the battle. Besides, they couldn’t outrun the Posleen and were thus dead, anyway. The military term is ‘acceptable collateral damage.’ Another round?”
“Very well,” the Darhel said.
“I repeat, why can’t I watch the trial?”
“Because the testimony is need-to-know,” the Darhel answered. “The only portion you are required to monitor is your sentencing portion. When sentencing is pronounced, it will be fed over the video screen.”
“If anyone needs to know what’s being testified to, I do,” Mike said.
“Nonetheless,” the Darhel said. “What do you know of the Bane Sidhe?”
“Only that they exist,” Mike said. “I was informed about them by the Nor. You had an AID listening in.”
“The Nor did not know of the contract irregularity,” the Darhel said. “You do. Someone has told you, recently. Who?”
“Gosh, I forget,” Mike said.
“This is a violation of our contract,” the Darhel said. “You said that you would answer questions. And I can and will use chemical means to get my answer.”
“If you’re asking those you’re not working as my counsel,” Mike said, shrugging. “In which case, all I can say is that when I get out of here, I’m going to remove your eyes with my own hands.”
“That would be difficult,” the Darhel said, snarling.
“Not really,” Mike said. “You Darhel are cowards. Oh, you might have some guards but I’ve killed humans in my time as well as Posleen. You know my abilities. You are as dead as yesterday’s news. But first I’m going to destroy your clan financially. You’re going to be too poor to afford guards when I come for you. I’m going to eat one of your cowardly eyeballs while you watch and… ”
Mike had been watching for the signs. He’d heard that Darhel were, in fact, fast and strong. But they also went catatonic after a few moments. The question would be whether he could get the Darhel to go over the edge. And live through it.
Sure enough, the alien finally lost it, the chair flying back and hitting the wall, hard enough to crack the strong plastic. The alien’s hands wrapped around his throat and he thought he felt his hyoid bone break as it bore down. But then the thing’s eyes rolled back in his head and he flopped to the table, still and drooling.
Mike could breathe, barely, so his throat wasn’t crushed. He just sat there, watching the drooling thing on the table, until the guards entered the room in a rush and stunned him into unconsciousness.
* * *
“General, this is insane.”
The Fleet Strike colonel looked at his superior, watching for any shred of agreement then shook his head. He’d made sure that the meeting was in a shield room and AIDs were left behind so the officers could have an honest conversation. But he wasn’t sure even that would matter.
“These charges are laughable,” Colonel Rodermund continued. “The only evidence is the recordings of the accused and AID records we both know can be falsified. For that matter, we’re not allowed to fully investigate those same records. We’re not even getting the full recordings of the interrogations of the accused and those are by persons who are supposed to be his counsel. Then we can’t even question the counselors. We haven’t even seen any of his counselors after the meetings. But the bottomline is that what he did was not illegal. He gave a legal order and was not countermanded by higher authority. Not as far as any record we have seen. The collateral damage was regretable but the mission was accomplished. He’s guilty of nothing but being a soldier. Is that now illegal?”
“Is that all?” the general asked.
“Not really,” the colonel said, his face hardening. “I’ve been reviewing the information on what happened at R-1496 Delta and I don’t buy it. There’s a massive rat in the recordings. Among other things, where did the Posleen get orbital weaponry? Wasn’t Fleet supposed to be covering? Again, not something that General O’Neal can be charged with. And I don’t see Admiral Suntoro in that courtroom nor any of the rest of his staff. In fact, I’ve done a bit of checking and nobody’s too sure where Fifth Fleet is at present. I didn’t think I was going to be participating in a kangaroo court, General, and I’m professionally and personally humiliated to do so. I’m also wondering what in the hell you think you’re doing.”
“That is insubordination,” the general said, mildly.
“Great, so I’m next?” the colonel asked. “Unable to choose my own counsel, unable to speak in my own defense, unable to bring witnesses, unable to face my accusers?”
“Not unless you force that outcome,” the general said. “Are you going to?”
“And there is the point,” the general replied. “Yes, this is a totally bogus proceeding. The outcome is fore-ordained. The accused will be found guilty. He will be shipped to either the Legion or a penal institute. He is probably going to be shot trying to escape. General O’Neal is dead. Get that through your head.”
“Oh, I have, sir,” the colonel said, furiously. “But what in the fuck are we doing facilitating that, sir? Michael O’Neal is a God damned hero! If they can do this to him, using us, sir, then who’s safe? What’s the God damned point of even… And what really happened to 11th Corps? That’s most of Fleet Strike, sir! What’s the God damned point of… ”
“Of even continuing to exist?” the general asked, calmly. “The point is to exist.”
“Well, then, sir, if you would like to hear my opinion of… ”
“I can guess,” the general said, still calmly. “But you’re not seeing the full measure of the point. Yes, we’re about to throw one of our greatest heroes, okay our greatest hero, to the dogs. We are going to pour out our honor like water. Some of the board are going to eat a pistol over the verdict. But we are going to survive. Fleet Strike is going to survive. You think this is the only tarnish on us? That we haven’t done other things that are repugnant at the insistence of those Darhel fuckers? You’ve been caught up in the minutia of keeping units across the galactic arm supplied. I appreciate that. You’re a damned good logistician. I’ve been in the belly of the beast, Colonel. I’ve seen what’s been really happening. The Fleet doesn’t even flicker at this sort of thing. There’s no trust, no bonding, no real soldiers in the whole damned thing. The Admirals fight for the biggest slice of the pie and the sailors just want to get their ricebowl filled. They hope they actually get fed and paid.
