March of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  “Sir, madame. Minister Shah and Mrs. Shah have arrived.”

  “Excuse me,” Thomas said, bowing slightly, “our next guests have arrived.” He joined Soma in the middle of the room and strolled forward to where the new arrivals would emerge from the front hall.

  “I’m impressed,” he said quietly to his wife. “We don’t often host senior members of Parliament.”

  “I met him through his wife,” Soma replied. “Lovely lady.”

  They paused near the entrance, watching as the new couple entered. Thomas pushed a welcoming smile to his face and turned his eyes to Vijay Shah. The Minister of Natural Resources and a member of the largest party in Parliament, he was a tall, slim man with a mane of gray hair over his angular features. His eyes flicked down to the medals, then he reached out to grip Thomas’s extended hand.

  “Vijay Shah, sir.”

  “Minister Shah, it’s an honor to have you in our home. My name is Thomas Kane.”

  “Modesty is not required. What rank do you hold in the armed services, so that I can honor you with a proper salutation.”

  Thomas was about to modestly dismiss the query when he heard Mrs. Shah’s voice beside her husband.

  “He’s a sublieutenant, if memory serves.”

  He looked over at the politician’s wife, and his smile froze in place.

  Standing elegantly on the arm of her husband, one of the most powerful men in Terra, was a woman he knew only too well. Dazzling blue eyes embedded in porcelain features framed by long black hair, hourglass figure wrapped in a stunning silk dress and jewelry to shame a queen.

  Charity Brisebois.

  “Mrs… Shah.”

  “Hello, darling,” Breeze said as she leaned in to accept his cheek kisses. She held him in the embrace just long enough to whisper, “Did you miss me?”

  14

  It was irritating to be in the presence of a man who knew her former life, but Breeze had known that Thomas Kane would be skulking around at the edges of her new social circle. His wife Soma was extremely well-connected, and the months spent cultivating that friendship were certainly paying off.

  This dinner party was vivid proof.

  And now that Soma was heavily preggers, Breeze had no competition as the most beautiful woman in the room. Scanning the Kanes’ ballroom, she quickly sized up the other wives—as they did her—and a preliminary pecking order was wordlessly established.

  They were all ten to twenty years Breeze’s senior, and to their credit beautifully turned out, but Breeze held the advantages of relative youth and the arm of a Parliamentary minister. She also had her own military career to fall back on, if necessary. Yes, it was going to be an enjoyable evening.

  The guest list was surprisingly intimate, which suggested an agenda. The business magnates each ran mining conglomerates in the outer solar system, and the two junior state officials both worked for her husband in the Ministry of Natural Resources. The other senior politician was Christopher Sheridan, the leader of the Opposition and the most prominent Parliamentary figure representing Mars. Nothing happened in Parliament without the consent of the Martian voting bloc.

  Sheridan was unescorted, Breeze noted immediately, and as soon as the Kanes had completed their hostly welcomes she moved in.

  “Good evening, Mr. Sheridan,” she said, offering her hand for him to kiss. “I’m Charity Shah.” His eyes lit up appraisingly, but he couldn’t quite hide the fatigue weighing him down.

  “Mrs. Shah, a pleasure,” he said smoothly. “I’d heard that Vijay’s young bride was the most beautiful woman in the worlds, but now I see that the description was inadequate.”

  “And I’ve heard that you are an exquisite orator,” she laughed. “Please, continue your fiction.”

  “How are you enjoying life in the public eye?”

  “I’m mostly leaving it to Vijay,” she said. “I’m not sure I’d welcome that much attention.” It was a half-truth, she knew. There had been a fair bit of coverage of this glamorous new power couple, but she’d hung back, largely to help his public image. It would be better to keep her head down until worlds had forgotten about the court-martial which had ended her career.

  The incident was just a little too recent in public memory.

  “I understand—it’s why my wife stays at home,” Sheridan agreed. “Public life is getting a bit too risky these days.”

  “The war has endangered so many people.”

  “Yes. Almost makes you wonder if it’s worth it.”

  Breeze pressed her lips shut. Those were dangerous words, even in an intimate setting like this. Then he laughed and gave her a wink.

  “My role as Opposition leader requires me to say things like that.”

  She returned the laugh, but felt a twinge of discomfort. Getting on the wrong side of the State might be his official role, but it was something she never wanted to do again. Relief coursed through her as she heard her husband stroll up to her side.

  “Hello, Christopher,” Vijay said. “I suppose you and I should sit on opposite sides of the table tonight.”

  “Yes, and I’ll be sure to stand and address our host first, whenever I want to speak to you,” Sheridan replied with an easy smile.

  The two politicians shook hands, the conversation easily flowing into a casual exchange about life on the road while the new Parliament building was being constructed. The original Chamber of Parliament had been destroyed in the opening attack of the war, and other incidents had claimed the lives of nearly a third of Parliament’s members, including the President herself.

  This past year had seen an uneasy shifting of alliances among the political parties as they jockeyed for position amid the chaos of elections which saw many seats change hands. Vijay, as one of the longest-serving government representatives still alive, had maneuvered his way quietly into the low-profile but extremely powerful Ministry of Natural Resources. Sheridan had led the movement to consolidate the Martian mandate and, while still excluded from government, was gaining popular support.

  As she watched the two men chat so amiably, she wondered idly if she was witness to a precursor to the next presidential election.

  Breeze had no problem with her role as charming consort. Vijay was a man of quiet, resolute power who had built his life on succeeding without making waves. It was rare for a resident of distant Triton to walk the halls of power—especially one who had grown up in a ward as poor as Vijay’s. He was, Breeze had discovered, a master behind the scenes, and her admiration for him grew more with each success he achieved.

  Her own political ambitions would be well-served at his side.

  Glancing around the room at the various clusters of conversation, Breeze admitted that there was still one threat she needed to neutralize. Watching subtly, she noted when Thomas excused himself from a group and spoke to one of the servants. With a quick touch to Vijay’s arm she slipped away.

  Thomas saw her approach, and she noted the subtle tension that rippled through his powerful body. It thrilled her that she could still frighten such a man with her mere presence, but she damped her instincts and instead greeted him with an earnest expression.

  “I’d like to declare a truce,” she said simply.

  Surprise flickered over him before his features hardened into bland neutrality.

  “I’d be happy with that,” he said, “if I could believe it.”

  She conceded with a nod. He was nobody’s fool, and she knew her charms were useless on him. She grudgingly admitted to a great deal of respect for him as an opponent. He could be a powerful ally, but she doubted that would ever happen. So he needed to be disarmed.

  “Fair enough,” she said. “I’m not going to say that I’ve changed, or that I want us to be friends, but I don’t see any benefit to fighting with you.”

  “Because you have what you want, and you can kick a sublieutenant whenever you feel like it?” It had been a cheap shot, revealing his rank to Vijay. Damn her predatory instincts.

 
“I’m sorry about that. I’ll make it up to you at dinner.”

  “No thanks.”

  “I promise, and you don’t need to say a word.”

  “You’d like that,” he sneered. “Or maybe I’ll just casually mention your court-martial. You may have been let off, but we both know that was the lawyers. You still aided the Centauri invasion, and I don’t think your new husband would be well-served by having a wife accused of treason.”

  “Just as I doubt your wife would like to learn that you were fucking me,” she countered, “while you were engaged to her.”

  To her surprise, his expression hardened even more.

  “Do I look like I give a shit, Breeze?”

  Honestly, he didn’t. This wasn’t his world, and he knew it. Threats to it no longer mattered to him.

  “Please…” She took a deep breath. “What do you want in exchange for your silence?”

  “To be left alone.”

  “Done.”

  “And…” he hesitated, “I want my career back.”

  There it was. Thomas the soldier.

  “Let me see what I can do,” she said. “I may be out, but I still have friends in uniform.”

  “You and your kind make me sick,” he muttered.

  “I know. So you stay in uniform and do what you’re best at, and I’ll stay in my silk dress and do what I’m best at. We both want success for Terra, and for ourselves—we’re actually on the same side.”

  His laugh was bitter, but some of the hostility drained from his eyes. Wordlessly he guided her back to the collection of guests.

  Dinner was exquisite, and Breeze was newly impressed at Soma Kane’s ability to throw the perfect party. Despite the ever-present threat of rebel stealth ships, she’d managed to acquire Martian potatoes to complement the sun-grown, organic salad, and with dessert she even had two bottles of the latest ice-wine from Triton. Thus she ensured that her position—as heiress to one of the largest trading companies in Terra—remained intact. And all the while she played the happy expectant mother with an enchanting grace.

  Genius.

  Chatter around the table meandered as it did from topic to topic, starting with the innocuous—the latest entertainment and fashions—and moving to sports and the inevitable bragging about children. Breeze rode the currents with ease, watching for opportunities. As the ice-wine was poured, one of the magnates leaned forward and looked up to the head of the table.

  “Thomas, I’m dying to hear more about what happened to poor Toronto,” he said. “Where are the crew, now? Are you planning a rescue of them?”

  Thomas dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. Breeze tuned in.

  “There’s still some mystery around Toronto’s fate,” Thomas said. “I can’t really say what the overall plan is.”

  “Thomas is only a sublieutenant,” Vijay chimed in innocently. “You can’t expect him to know top strategies.” Before anyone else could speak, though, Breeze laid her hand on her husband’s.

  “I think I may have misled you earlier, darling,” she said with a bit more volume than normal. “Thomas is far more than a sublieutenant.”

  Vijay’s brow furrowed, and she noted the interested expressions from around the table. She assumed a look of modesty.

  “I don’t know if everyone was aware, but I recently retired from Astral Intelligence.”

  Surprise and new interest focused upon her.

  “I obviously can’t give details, but I supported Thomas on many occasions. His official rank changes from time to time, depending on his mission. He may be wearing a sublieutenant’s rank right now, but that hasn’t always been the case. I myself have served under him, and my rank,” she paused for emphasis, “was commander.”

  The magnate smiled and nodded, turning a respectful gaze back to Thomas.

  “I’m sure you understand,” Thomas added, “why I’m not always at liberty to discuss my job.”

  “Of course, of course. You’re the, ah, ace in the hole.”

  “And I think Breeze,” Thomas gave her a friendly glance, “has said all that needs to be said.”

  “Who?” Sheridan asked.

  “It was a nickname for me,” Breeze laughed. “My maiden name was Brisebois, but everybody called me Breeze.”

  Sheridan nodded amid the polite laughter.

  “And what did you call Thomas?”

  “Mostly,” she said, smiling to the head of the table, “I called him sir.”

  Amid the renewed laughter, she saw his tiny nod of gratitude.

  The truce had taken hold. She’d happily fulfill her promise to get his career kickstarted again. With luck he’d stay out on the front line, get himself killed, and she’d finally be rid of him.

  15

  It was hard to imagine the world changing much, for the loss of a single person.

  Jack laughed to himself, lifting his head and breathing in the cool sea breeze that rushed over him. The waters of the strait sparkled in the brilliant sunshine, and he glanced around the park. It was a good thing none of the passers-by could read his thoughts—that last one sounded a bit suicidal.

  But what difference did a single person make, anyway?

  His hometown hadn’t changed much since the war started. Some things were harder to find in shops, but in general people in Vancouver just lived their lives like always. They went to work, raised their families, worried about taxes. The usual. His folks were thrilled to see him, as always, but this time he just couldn’t stomach being paraded around to all their friends. He wasn’t some hero—he was just a tired guy who wanted a rest.

  Coming down to Bridge Park had been a good idea, he decided. Leaving the crowded mass of the city behind, he’d ridden the train south through the razed land and out onto the delta. Rice paddies stretched to every horizon, blurring the line between land, river and sea. And then, in the shadow of the ruined supports of the bridge, the park rose like a garden oasis. He wasn’t the only person who’d had the idea today, either, and the park was lifted by the shrieks of children playing on the fun zone behind him.

  Sitting on his bench, Jack took in the sights and sounds of his little corner of the world. In the distance over the water he could see the dark, low shapes of the islands, and there was the constant movement of skycraft heading to and from Vancouver’s big sister Victoria, the city located on the largest island. He sometimes wondered why the State didn’t build a new bridge to the islands, but then he glanced up at the massive towers of ancient concrete looming over him, and realized that a new bridge might cheapen the sacrifices symbolized by the old.

  A man sat down at the other end of the bench. He returned Jack’s polite nod.

  “Beautiful day,” he said.

  “Welcome to the West Coast summer,” Jack replied. “Should be like this for the next, oh, three months or so.”

  A smile stretched across plain features, eyes casting around in appreciation before returning with a sudden interest.

  “We’ve met before, I think,” the man said, turning slightly. “Is your name Jack?”

  “Uhh, yeah.” He studied the man anew. Middle-aged, middle-build, nothing remarkable about his face—but he did look vaguely familiar.

  “I’m Sasha Korolev,” he said. “We met in Normandy, during the Sirius campaign.” His face split in a good-natured smile. “You stole my seat for a briefing, I think.”

  Jack laughed as the memory came rushing back. He really had been the personification of a “dumb subbie” in his day. He made to rise from the bench.

  “Am I stealing your seat now, sir?”

  Korolev chuckled and waved him back down.

  “There are no uniforms here, Jack. I’m just another citizen enjoying the day. I don’t mean to disturb you, either, if you were looking for solitude.” He shifted as if to leave.

  “No, no, please.” Jack motioned for him to stay, realizing suddenly that a fellow veteran to talk to might be just what he needed. “What brings you to Vancouver?”

  “I
travel all over Terra with my job.” He shrugged. “I had a meeting here and figured I’d come down and see the great bridge.”

  Jack cast his eyes up again at the massive stanchions towering up out of the waves. Any sign of the old bridge deck had long since fallen away or been removed, and all that remained was the pair of towers that had once supported the soaring arc stretching from here all the way to the first of the islands on the horizon.

  “It’s a beautiful place,” Jack said, “and I’ve been here tons of times, but it still moves me.”

  “It’s hard to imagine such a peaceful place being the site of such a great sacrifice,” Korolev agreed.

  “From what I’ve seen, most places are peaceful until we get there.” It was a cheeky statement, Jack knew, and he was relieved to see this senior Corps officer simply nod. They sat in silence for a long moment, the breeze gusting over them.

  “Are you with one of the ships right now?” Korolev asked.

  “Admiral Bowen. I was in Frankfurt, but she was destroyed over Thor.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Lifeboats aren’t fun.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t even on board when it happened. I was extracting some of your troopers from the surface.”

  “Did you successfully retrieve them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you.”

  The quiet earnestness of Korolev’s expression made Jack pause. He thought back, trying to recall if Korolev’s name had been listed as one of the senior commanders in the Valhalla theater.

  “Were they your troopers?”

  “No… but every soldier is valuable, Jack. Any time one lives instead of dies, it’s a good day.”

  Jack’s mind flashed back to images of Master Rating Daisy Singh. She’d had a great laugh, but every time he tried to remember it he was flooded by the image of her dead face, frozen in mouth-open shock from the slug that had torn through her.

  “I wish we had more good days.”

  Korolev was gazing up at the bridge, but he turned at that.

  “Do you want to talk about it, my friend? No ranks, no roles. Just two guys shooting the shit, as they say.”

  “I guess you’ve seen your fair share of shit.”