by K S Augustin
“Central Control has decided that what’s needed at this point is a major event, something that can’t be argued or contested by any subject. A glorious reaffirmation of the superiority of the Empire.”
“Do you have anything in mind, Rep Kodnell?” Koul asked from somewhere on Cheloi’s right.
“I’m glad you asked, sub-Colonel,” Kodnell replied. “That’s why I’m here, talking to you today.”
He gave a signal and the room’s illumination returned to normal. “We believe the impetus for this event must come from the Nineteen, as it’s critically placed between the two continents of major conflict. We believe that an attack blitz from the Nineteen will shake the rebels, embolden our own troops, and turn the tide of war in our favour.”
Cheloi tightened her lips. They’d done it again. Once more, the faceless analysts of the Fusion had predicted this precise turn of events. She knew it was childish but, just for once, she would have liked the Fusion to be mistaken in their planning.
Except they were wrong once, remember? And Eys died.
Cheloi continued staring straight ahead, not liking that errant thought, and tried to get her thinking back to the situation at hand.
A decade ago, the Fusion had identified the Nineteen as the Perlim’s critical battleground. Its analysts had formulated a plan then gone hunting to find the individual to carry out that plan. And after years of looking, observing, and training, Cheloi was here listening, as the representative from Central Control stated what the Fusion had known all along.
Kodnell’s gaze locked on hers. “You don’t believe me, Senior Colonel?”
She lifted her eyebrows innocently. The man must have wide-angle cameras for eyes if he’d picked up on her fleeting facial expression.
“I was just thinking, Rep Kodnell,” she said slowly. “Your presence at the Nineteen indicates to me that you believe Drel is the rebel leader who’s uniting the opposition forces?”
“Correct.” He nodded. “Drel is in this area, is he not?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “My driver and I had a fleeting, clash with him and his forces when we were captured. We set up a barrage of his last known position as soon as we returned to friendly territory but, unfortunately, did not manage to target him successfully.”
“So I read.”
There it was again, that little flicker toward Koul then back again. Opposite her, Wakor shifted and coughed noisily. So the link between Kodnell and her second-in-command was obvious to others as well. Cheloi settled back in her chair, forcing herself to relax, hooding her eyes.
“One of our major objectives, then,” she continued, “is the elimination of Drel and his forces?”
“That’s correct, Colonel Sie. Your analysis has been confirmed by others from the surrounding territories. This rebel leader Drel is building up a continental force in an effort to match ours. We want to smash his army and send a message to all rebels once and for all that it’s futile resisting us.”
Kodnell looked around the table once more, but Cheloi wasn’t falling for that trick a second time. She schooled her features into impassivity.
“I’ve come here to garner suggestions from the senior staff on the structure of that one unstoppable attack blitz,” he continued. “As our officers on the ground, Central Control believes you are in the best position to suggest feasible strategies. I’ll make my decision tomorrow, authorise the orders then leave.”
Cheloi knew what that meant. She would be lucky to catch an hour’s sleep before he departed.
Koul, of course, volunteered his opinion first. His suggestion was a wholescale destructive wave of fission bombs, flung and detonated across almost all the major population centres in the territory.
Kodnell pursed his lips as he thought. “But a barrage of that magnitude over such a large area would deplete your reserves considerably. Wouldn’t it, Senior Colonel?”
Koul had no choice, he had to defer to Cheloi. He eyed her deliberately, his pale eyes blazing, but she ignored him as she agreed with Kodnell. “Yes it would.”
“And would you do in the case of a counter-attack?”
“I don’t think there would be a counter-attack,” Koul cut in. “Not if we planned it well enough.”
Kodnell smiled and it was strange to see such a Koul-like curving of lips mirrored on another’s face. “Do you really believe so, Colonel Grakal-Ski? It might pacify the Nineteen, but what would happen in the other territories? Might it not provoke other leaders to emulate Drel? Might it not look overeager? Desperate? And with no guarantee of quick supply drops during the month-long blackout, what would you rely on if you had no weapons left, all of them having been detonated in that first barrage?”
“Nothing.” The voice that interrupted came from the normally quiet Mazhin. “As you say, Rep Kodnell, we are headed for another season of high-intensity ionic storms. We can’t afford to squander armaments under such conditions. Not when re-supply isn’t guaranteed.”
The representative nodded. “You’re correct, Colonel Mazhin. You forget, sub-Colonel, that you are assuming prior production values in ideal environmental conditions. As I mentioned earlier, the Emperor has decided that we need to fortify our border with the Fusion. That leaves reduced inventory for the Menon effort. Which,” he added with a hiss, “should have been concluded long before this.”
It was stupidity. The Empire was expecting the Nineteen to launch some kind of glorious one-off offensive while keeping most of their resources in reserve in case of a counter-attack. And with no guarantee of supply replenishment. It would be like throwing snowballs in a desert. The missiles might be compact, pretty, novel even, but were completely useless.
However, Cheloi thought, looking from Koul to Kodnell with interest, if there was one thing she knew, it was timing. She had survived two decades of life as a Fusion spy knowing when to do something.
“I have a suggestion, Rep Kodnell,” she said in her smooth dark voice.
And tried not to smile when he turned to look at her.
“I didn’t want you at the Nineteen.” Kodnell took a sip of life-water and looked around the cramped office.
It was well past midnight and only Kodnell and Cheloi were in the anteroom of her quarters. It had been a long afternoon followed by a tense evening meal. The officers had taken several short breaks to stretch their legs but the air in the briefing room was close and sour by the time their business was completed. The aromas of the working dinner added their own greasy overtones to the mix and Cheloi swore to herself that she would not enter the room again for the next few days, regardless of how well the ventilation systems worked.
She was aware that the informal part of such meetings was even more important than the formal segment, so she invited Central Control’s representative to her quarters for a drink before he retired, knowing he wouldn’t refuse. She hadn’t even had time to swallow a pill to keep her awake and would have to rely on nervous tension to keep her alert. She hoped Rumis, comprehending the undercurrents and sent on his mission to tail the two Senior Colonels with barely a flick of Cheloi’s finger, had found some time to rest, because she feared she would be watching the sun rise before she fell into the crisp folds of her bed.
The conversation had started with the usual quasi-interrogation, the probing to make sure that Cheloi knew as much about the Nineteen as she claimed she did. She kept her voice even, her expression open and her tunic buttoned up as she answered. Although she was technically off-duty, her posture was erect yet relaxed, as if she was ready to spring into action at the slightest opportunity. She had been in too many armies to be caught by the off-duty minor transgression that usually ended in a court-martial. Or worse.
“I voted for Grakal-Ski to take command of the territory.”
Then you’re a fool.
That was not a wise thing to say out loud, so Cheloi merely took a minute sip of her drink.
“I thought he’d be ideal for the Nineteen. Ambitious, intelligent, loyal. The others
voted for you, after your campaigns in the Eight. I hated you for that. A woman, in charge of one of the most important territories in the war. I wondered whether we had descended to the perversity of the Fusion.” He finished his drink in one gulp and jiggled the empty glass, silently asking for a refill. She obliged.
“So I watched you, Senior Colonel. Watched and waited for the smallest mistake, the tiniest misstep. But you didn’t make one.”
“Thank you, Rep,” she said smoothly.
He shook his head. “Don’t thank me yet. That got me thinking of the exact opposite. What if you were,” his eyes brightened, “a Fusion robot of some kind? A bio-mechanical contraption sent to lull us into error?”
He paused and held her gaze with one of his own, probing and inquisitive. As if, through a mere look, he could determine the extent of her alien biology. Cheloi returned the look calmly, willing herself not to flush, not to tremble, not to send tremors through the liquid she still held in one hand.
“Then your driver died. And you were injured. I saw your medical report. Requested it personally.”
This is it. They did some deep scan extrapolations. They know I’m not one of them.
She forced herself to blink slowly, to convey the impression she was curious, interested, yet tired.
“I half thought we’d find steel instead of calcium in your bones.” He shook his head. “It was one of my favourite pet theories, Senior Colonel. But do you know who saved you from being hauled into HQ Medical for a molecular-level physical?”
Blink. Had she really been that close to being discovered?
“I’m sure I don’t know, Rep Kodnell, although,” she smiled, “I probably owe them a drink. Molecular-level physicals are quite uncomfortable.”
Kodnell barked a short shout of laughter. “They’re a semi-annual event at Central Control. You get used to them.”
Are they really? How interesting.
Did she imagine that his eyes softened? “It was Koul.”
Cheloi frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“My favourite attack dog. Grakal-Ski.” He exhaled, a noisy yet oddly comforting sound, considering the tack the conversation was taking. Cheloi hoped his spoken confidences meant his attitude towards her had changed.
“I know how his mind works, Senior Colonel. He would have been livid missing out on a promotion. I myself was angry enough on his behalf. And if I knew my ravening throat-ripper well enough, he would be watching your every move. So I resigned myself to losing the command battle but, as a consolation prize, ensured that Koul remained here as your second-in-command rather than shifting him to another territory where he would have been promoted. In the end, it was better than being here and watching you myself.”
Cheloi flicked up an eyebrow while, inside, she seethed. So the pale anonymous man sitting in front of her was the one person responsible for the bane of the last two years. He had forced Koul to remain in a subordinate position then watched the entertainment as her second-in-command tried his best to rip her to shreds. She wondered what the penalty was for killing a member of Central Control. She knew it was death, but what kind of death? Depending on the method, it might be faintly worth it.
“And if Koul couldn’t find anything wrong with you, Senior Colonel,” he said with a broad smile, “then I couldn’t either.”
“I’m pleased that you think so, Rep Kodnell.”
He laughed again at the stiffness in her tone. “You’re not as good a liar as you think you are, Sie.”
Oh you don’t know the half of it, you bastard.
Kodnell drained his glass again, asked for another refill, then stretched out a hand to encompass the underground complex. “But we’re here now, all happy and on the same side. And I like your idea.”
Yes, she supposed she could grasp at that rather than Kodnell’s pale neck. It had always been her plan to use the unpredictable Vanqill, hair-trigger commander of Green sector, to precipitate a collapse of the Nineteen. That’s why she had been busy encouraging his more reckless exploits over the past couple of years. Sometimes his antics made her grit her teeth and agree with Koul that he should be terminated, but there was no doubt that Vanqill had the touch, the beginnings, of a brilliant strategist.
In capable hands, he could have been moulded into a first-rate commander. What he needed was someone to cut out his ineffective, impulsive tendencies and foster his more critical thinking. Unfortunately, Cheloi was the exact opposite of what he needed. Instead of tempering his excesses and correcting his mistakes, she had subtly goaded him on, making him feel more invincible than he had a right to be, slowly building him up until she could unleash him on an unsuspecting empire. And right now, listening to Kodnell, she could ignore the twinges of guilt over what she was doing to Vanqill and wish them all a pleasant journey into the galactic abyss.
“It’s bold, unprecedented,” he mused, obviously replaying her suggestion from the meeting in his head, “but I think it could work.”
Cheloi nodded. “With the current complications of the Fusion snapping at our heels, it occurred to me that we need to maximise our effect.” She took another tiny sip of the life-water. “And, with limited resources, the only way we can do that is to change the way we think.”
“The rebels will not be expecting us to fight them the same way,” Kodnell mused grimly. “Thanks to you, Senior Colonel, we could be looking at a true turning point in the war.”
Definitely. But not the way you think.
He looked down at the golden liquid in his glass, shifting it so the ripples caught the beams of the overhead illumination. “How long will it take for you to organise the offensive?”
Cheloi’s voice was crisp. “Ten days. But I’ll need ironclad orders from you, Rep Kodnell. The change in thinking may not sit well with all my sector commanders.”
“Of course. You’ll have it.” He gave her a long look. “Pull this off, Sie, and you’ll be looking at the first female generalship in Perlim history.”
“I know that, sir.”
“Fail, and we’ll skin you alive and feed you to the Emperor’s zoo animals.”
“I know that too, sir.”
“Good.” He paused and, with a sigh, settled back in the chair. “Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”
“Just one little thing, Rep Kodnell.”
Chapter Eighteen
Lith entered Cheloi’s office with a perfunctory buzz.
“You wanted to see me?”
Cheloi didn’t even look up. Her fingers were flying over the keys at her console and she examined the resulting flimsy with a critical eye even as she stifled a yawn.
“Close the door.”
She didn’t need to look up to see her driver’s hesitation, could almost hear the cautious questioning in the way the door slid shut. She scowled and made one more modification before reprinting the flimsy and nodding with satisfaction.
“Here,” she said, sliding the slip across the desk. “Take this and go pack.”
“Go…pack?”
“Don’t take everything. Just enough to make it look like you’ll be gone one or maybe two nights. Then meet C-C Rep Kodnell’s entourage. They’re leaving in thirty minutes.”
Cheloi didn’t want to look up. She busied herself checking that what she’d written was already queued for transmission to the central data centre. She looked for, and failed to find, dust on the console’s slim keyboard. She noticed the coolness of the metal-topped desk beneath her wrists and even glanced at the subtly rippled matte surface. But she knew she was delaying the inevitable. Eventually, she knew, she would have to raise her head.
She looked up and their gazes clashed.
“What’s going on?” Lith asked, her eyes bright with tension.
“You’re leaving.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
Cheloi bit her lower lip then, with a sigh, rose from her chair and walked around the desk. Lith turned to face her.
“It’
s not safe here any more,” Cheloi told her. “You need to get out while you can.”
“Cheloi—”
Was that the first time she had used her name? Or perhaps it was the first time she had said it normally, without mindless passion or bitter censure. Whichever it was, it sounded wonderful on her tongue, and she wanted to hear it again and again until the universe died.
But not her mission name.
“Laisen,” she interrupted gently, the words leaving her mouth before she could pull them back. “My name’s Laisen Carros.”
“What?” Lith’s eyes narrowed in confusion.
Cheloi could tell this was all going too fast for her. Which was good. She had the feeling that if Lith kept up with her current maelstrom of thoughts, she’d dig her heels in and refuse to leave.
“You’ve got to leave,” she repeated, picking up the flimsy and shoving it into Lith’s stiff hands. “I can’t,” complete my mission, “command this territory and protect you from Koul at the same time. He has to make another move soon but I can’t afford to think about that, so I’m getting you away from him. C-C Rep Kodnell has agreed to take you to the Five’s spaceport. From there, I’ve requested priority clearance to Laeyek Omni B. I’ve told everyone your mother is dying.”
Lith was still looking dazed, although a spark of spirit was beginning to reassert itself. Cheloi could see its embers springing to life behind her eyes. She grabbed her aide by the shoulders.
“Lith, you need to go,” she told her urgently, not giving her time to think. “I’ve made up a story and cleared passage off-planet, but this will be the only chance you have before this whole territory gets blown to oblivion.”
“Why would it get blown into oblivion?”
A short, humourless bark of laughter escaped from Cheloi’s mouth. Why? Because this was the end of things. Because she had organised everything on a hair-trigger and couldn’t even guarantee she herself would get out alive.
