March of War

by Bennett R. Coles

  “We’ve monitored their news channels from here,” Thomas said. “There’s at least one story per day on the subject of the war, but it’s usually buried beneath domestic concerns.”

  “It’s as if the war doesn’t even matter to them,” Katja said, frowning.

  “Actually,” Jack weighed in, “I think it’s more nuanced than that. The commentary I see on the war is quite balanced—it actually seems like their reporters do their research, and try to give the full picture. The responses from the public are remarkable, too—plenty of strong opinions, but nothing extreme. This is an educated population.”

  Silence fell in the cabin for a moment. Thomas noted Jack’s expression of thoughtful respect, and noted also Katja’s narrowing eyes.

  “All the more reason,” she said firmly, “to take them seriously as the enemy.”

  “Yes,” Jack agreed, “most definitely.”

  Thomas sipped at the coffee. He was becoming addicted to the stuff again, but at least it tasted better than straight amphetamines.

  “Do you two have any combat cocktails in your gear?” he asked suddenly. All Astral Corps troopers were injected with a combination of drugs prior to battle—Thomas well remembered the euphoria from his days as a platoon leader. Katja would be familiar with them, he knew, and he was pretty sure even Jack had been juiced up on “valour valium” after his injuries in Sirius.

  “No,” Katja said with a puzzled frown. “Why?”

  “I can issue you some from my own strike team’s store—you might need them for the next mission.”

  “Oh crap,” Jack said, sighing. “I told them I wasn’t a combat operative. I only have my yellow belt of humility.”

  “What?” Thomas laughed, shaking his head.

  “Operatives generally don’t use combat cocktails,” Katja said. “We can dull certain senses, and need to be able to react instantly on multiple levels.”

  “Well, they’re yours if you want them.”

  “More importantly,” Jack said, “why would we need them?

  Tell us about the new mission, sir.”

  Thomas met Jack’s apprehensive gaze, then shifted over to Katja as she stood nearby and stared at him expectantly. He’d received the orders from Chandler that morning via a needle-beam encoded transmission, and he was still turning them over in his head. Looking again at his companions, he wondered how much he should really let them know.

  “There is going to be a Terran attack on Abeona,” he said finally, “and your mission is to disrupt Centauri defensive networks from within.”

  “For how long?” Katja asked. “The last time we attacked this planet, the landing alone took nearly a day. If we’re landing Army troops, then this could go on for months.”

  “We’re not landing troops,” he replied. “The attack will occur from orbit, and we only need a disruption for a few hours. Ideally you’ll infiltrate their networks beforehand, and set up the disruptors to activate automatically based on the schedule I’m going to give you.” He paused, then added, “You need to be off the planet when the attack occurs. Part of your mission is to send word to any other Terran assets posted on Abeona, instructing them to evacuate, as well.”

  Katja nodded thoughtfully.

  Jack stared at him with raised eyebrows.

  “Why, exactly,” he asked, “do we all have to be off the planet? What is this attack?”

  Thomas hesitated. They wouldn’t need the details of the attack in order to successfully conduct their mission. Yet these weren’t just two anonymous operatives—this was Jack Mallory and Katja Emmes. And the knowledge he now possessed wasn’t something he could just bury away. He needed to hear their opinions.

  “You remember that little science experiment we three did, the last time we were in Centauria?”

  Jack and Katja exchanged glances.

  “You mean the Dark Bomb?” Jack asked quietly.

  “Yeah.” Thomas felt the next words try to die in his throat, but he forced them up. “Terra is going to launch a Dark Bomb at Abeona.”

  “Where?” Katja frowned. “Their orbital stations haven’t been rebuilt. Is there a central fleet docking facility we’re taking out?”

  Jack was speechless, staring with his mouth open. He got it, Thomas knew.

  “The bomb isn’t targeting anything in orbit,” Thomas explained. “It’s targeting Abeona.”

  “Yeah,” Katja snapped, “but where?”

  “The entire planet.” He met her gaze and held it as the realization finally dawned in her eyes. “Terra is going to detonate a Dark Bomb in Abeona’s core.”

  Her face went pale, eyes widening, and a conflict of emotion wiped across her features, but as with Jack, no words emerged.

  “In the name of God,” Jack whispered, “why?”

  “To send a message. To tell the colonies that we have the power. To end the war.”

  “What’s going to happen to Abeona?”

  “No one knows for sure,” Thomas sighed, rolling his eyes. “At a minimum the shock from the core will set off quakes all over the surface, with enough force to essentially liquefy the crust. At the maximum, the singularization of the planet. It all depends on the gravity generated by the implosion.”

  A harsh laugh erupted from Jack. He shook his head.

  “I wonder if somebody’s getting their PhD signed off, if they estimate the damage accurately enough.” His expression hardened. “Or do those fuckers in the research squadron just have a pool going?”

  Thomas dropped his gaze. He knew he was supposed to say something inspirational or authoritative at this point, but words eluded him. Katja moved to sit on the couch next to him. She was still pale, but her voice was steady.

  “Do you have a download for us, sir?”

  “Yes,” he replied, reaching for the data stick. “It’s all here.”

  “Wait a second,” Jack said. “Do I have a say here?”

  “No,” she said firmly. “We don’t make the missions—we carry them out.”

  “Yeah, but have you noticed what this mission is?”

  Thomas listened for her response, but the silence stretched on. He glanced up, and saw that they were staring intently at each other, but not speaking. Was this some kind of operative battle of wills?

  Then, with a sigh of disgust, Jack launched to his feet.

  “Please excuse me, sir. I need a few minutes. Or hours.”

  “Jack, stay.”

  “What the fuck?” he snapped. “What. The. Fuck. Since when is it okay to blow up an entire world? Do you know how many people live on Abeona?”

  Thomas closed his eyes wearily, not wanting to think about it.

  “About seven hundred million,” Jack said. “Seven hundred million men, women, and children who are down there right now, just living their lives.”

  “They are the enemy, Jack,” Katja said.

  “No they aren’t! The rebel military forces are the enemy, and maybe the colonial governments. Tell me that we’re bombing the Centauri Senate, and I’m right there with you—but the whole fucking planet? Second Earth? Is that really what we want to destroy?”

  “It’s not our decision.”

  Jack pressed his fists against his face, obviously biting down more angry words.

  “I’m not sure,” he said finally, “that I can do this.”

  “Then,” Katja said slowly, almost as if she was repeating herself, “I will kill you.” At that point Thomas knew the conversation had to stop. He kept his face neutral as he looked up.

  “Operative Mallory, you have until eighteen hundred to assimilate the download,” he said. “We’ll reconvene here at that time for a final brief.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jack spun and left the cabin.

  Thomas turned to Katja. Her delicate features hadn’t changed in a year, and she moved with the same quick assurance as always, but her big, dark eyes regarded him with a luminous strength he hadn’t seen in her before.

  “Katja…”

  S
he met his gaze, a sad smile playing at her lips.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “How did we get to this?”

  “By the paths we’ve chosen, Commander.”

  Her face revealed little, but he could sense that she was being sincere. The mental walls he’d seen her throw up so many times were absent. He reached out and took her hand in his. She didn’t resist.

  “We’ve each walked our paths,” he agreed, “and we can’t go back, but we still need to look ahead at where we’re going, and make sure it’s the right place.”

  “My path is clear,” she replied. “I’m a servant of the State, and I always will be.”

  “As am I, but with this level of destructive power, I also have to be a servant to humanity. This mission…”

  “Stop,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Don’t even let yourself think it. You have to be strong to guide your crew through this. They have to be able to look at you and see absolute confidence. You need to be strong for them… just like I have to be for Jack.”

  “I know you’re strong—stronger than I’ve ever been,” he responded. “You have nothing left to prove, to anyone. But—”

  “But nothing.” Her features hardened and he saw the barriers rising. Her grip tightened further. “We have our orders, and the State carries the burden.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  She stared at him in silence. Then, suddenly, she pulled herself against him, wrapping him in her arms. He felt her cheek press against his, a trickle of moisture caught against his skin.

  “I have to,” she whispered.

  He held her close, reveling in the feel of her warm body against his, her breath against his ear. She hung onto him for a long time, crying quietly. When she finally pulled back to look at him, cheeks strained with tears, she actually managed a smile.

  “I don’t know what it is about you, Kane, but you always make me feel human.”

  “Are you not human anymore?”

  “No,” she said. “I’m a monster. I hid from that for a long time, but that damn pilot kid just reminds me too much of what life really should be.”

  “He’s a damaged young man, Katja—and war did that to him.”

  “He may be damaged, but he’s stronger for it.”

  “But is he better for it?”

  “Just stop this.” She shook her head and wiped angrily at her eyes as tears welled once again. But she still kept her arms around him, body leaning into his. “We are what we are, now. Nothing can change that.”

  She was so warm against him, so powerful and yet so fragile. He ached with her proximity, unable to hold back the flood of long-forgotten emotions.

  “Well, at least we’re here together.”

  “Yes.”

  “Katja, when the war’s over…”

  “Thomas,” she interrupted him, running her fingers tenderly across his cheek. “Don’t live in the past. You don’t know who I am anymore—if you ever did. For people like me, the war will never be over.” The strength was returning to her eyes, the moment of weakness, of doubt, banished. She was a front-line operative, and he could only guess at what she’d done in the name of the State.

  “Only if you so choose.”

  “I made my choice a long time ago.”

  “We’ve all made choices. I made one too, a vow to my wife, and I’m going to honor it forever.” He stared into her eyes, feeling his heart tear. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  She stared back at him. He waited for her defenses to rise even more, but instead she just offered a sad smile.

  “This isn’t the time, Thomas.”

  “It might be the only time we have. I’ve done enough shitty things in my life. I’m sorry, for everything.”

  She nodded, still stroking his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, too. And even if you’re still an asshole”—She smirked at him—“I love you too.”

  The hole in his heart filled in, just a bit. He was a cruiser commander in hostile space talking to a Special Forces operative on the eve of the most devastating attack in human history. He had no illusions about what the future promised, but he relished this one, single moment that was for just them.

  For Thomas and Katja.

  29

  Breeze had always wondered what true power would feel like. She wasn’t surprised to discover that it included comfortable chairs and delicious food. Lunch had just been cleared away by the silent servants and she watched as tea was poured for herself, then President De Chao Peterson, then Minister of Defense Wesley Taal.

  Soft jazz played in the background of the private dining room, adding a touch of class but also obscuring any conversations. Not that there was anyone else in the ornate, wood-lined room, but one could never be too careful.

  It was only her first week in Parliament, and Breeze was thrilled at the personal attention she was receiving from all sides. She’d been given a thunderous ovation by the assembled members of Parliament on her first day in the chamber, and the media made quite a spectacle of her assuming her late husband’s seat. Some voices—undoubtedly fed by the Opposition—had offered criticism at her inclusion in the government despite her lack of political experience, but her military service had come out to save her. No one was allowed to criticize a veteran, especially these days.

  As she sipped at her tea she realized with satisfaction that the years of bullshit she’d endured in that fanatical organization were finally paying off. She’d survived her time in uniform, and now that base of respectability was hers forever.

  Even so, to be invited to a private lunch with the President was unprecedented for a new member. Either the shadow of her husband was long, or the government recognized her true potential. It didn’t matter—she was determined to exploit this opportunity.

  Much of the lunch discussion had been about the war, naturally enough. President Peterson had served as a junior officer in the Army decades ago, and Minister Taal had been a ship captain in the Astral Force. Breeze had kept her comments to a minimum while they discussed recent tactical reports from the fronts, but she’d listened carefully to the underlying tones.

  Neither man was happy with the progress of the war.

  “Charity,” Peterson said, setting down his tea. He was an elderly man, but his stocky frame still moved with power. Faint scars were visible on his scalp through his close-cropped silver hair, and set in his rugged face deep-set eyes held her with absolute confidence. “I apologize that we’ve been nattering on over defense details about which you haven’t been briefed. I’m afraid we’ve put you at a disadvantage.”

  “No apologies necessary, sir,” she said. “Like many veterans, I maintain a keen interest in the success of our troops, and I’ve stayed as informed as I can.” She offered an expression of concern. “Despite what the media is crowing, I gather that our resources are being stretched.”

  “Very astute of you,” Taal commented. “The government’s position is clear—we cannot back down on any front, else we risk encouraging the rebels to push harder. One tactical retreat by our forces can be exploited by rebel propaganda, blowing it up into a huge victory for their side.”

  “It’s about perception,” she said, nodding. “More than anything, we need to break the rebel will.”

  “Exactly,” Taal agreed. “And to do so we’ve aspired to have State forces everywhere, at all times, so that the rebels get thumped whenever they so much as move. Unfortunately, this is taking a toll on troops and equipment, which we’re struggling to keep up with.”

  “We need decisive action,” Peterson concluded. “A single strike so powerful that it will shock and awe the rebels, and from that position of strength we can call for a cease fire and negotiate their terms of surrender.”

  Breeze had rarely seen colonists lose heart in the face of overwhelming Terran military force, but it seemed as if something new was in play. It had to be Chandler and Korolev’s secret plan.

  “I think that could be an excel
lent strategy,” she said, “if it’s done properly. But will it cost too many Terran lives?”

  “That’s the beauty of it,” Peterson said. “If it costs any Terran lives, it will be a handful at most. And not only will it crush the rebel spirit—it will neutralize their main benefactor, and leave them headless.”

  “This sounds like an ideal plan, sir,” she said. “How can I help?”

  “Your last position in the military was as the head of a research project to develop a new weapon called the Dark Bomb.”

  “It was.”

  “I confess,” Taal interjected, “that the technical aspects of this weapon are beyond my own expertise, and I’m cautious to place all my trust in my admirals for so important a mission. Given how familiar you are with the Dark Bomb, you would be the perfect person to take charge of this project and make certain it’s handled effectively.”

  “I appreciate the minister’s honesty in this,” Peterson added, “and I’m very glad that we have such an obvious alternative. Charity, I’m offering you the post of Deputy Minister of Defense, with your first responsibility being the political oversight of this critical mission.”

  Deputy Minister? With an advisory seat in the President’s cabinet, a full staff, and a genuine public profile? And all because of the stupid Dark Bomb. At that moment, Breeze saw her whole career come together, and she struggled to keep her smile to a modest line.

  “I’m honored, sir,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “We have a chance to end the war, with a victory for Terra,” Peterson said. “I’m pleased to know that you’re with us.”

  Taal told her when and where she’d be introduced to her team, and be briefed on the mission specifics, but most of the details flew past her. Her assistant would get her to where she needed to go, she knew, and this was just too sweet a moment not to savor.

  As lunch ended and she said her goodbyes to the President and Minister, she did wonder idly what the Dark Bomb had to do with the mission. No doubt the briefing would fill her in, so she pushed it from her mind. For now she was due in Parliament.

  * * *

  It was probably the last time she’d be stuck up on the “back benches” of the circular Chamber of Parliament. As a junior member of the government she was just one in the sea of faces stretching back from the central floor of the Chamber.