by Brian Dorsey
“What will the 25th be doing?” asked Stone no longer able to hold his tongue.
“Well, Colonel,” replied Cataline, “Intelligence believes that a large portion of Nero’s manpower is concentrated near the city of Lady Lunari. It is thought that a recent forced migration of a few nearby villages has resulted in small but violent domestic uprising. He has perhaps 1000 of his men in this area to restore order. It will be your assignment to make a forced landing in the farmlands near the city and demonstrate in the area to hold his forces there. Keeping those forces stagnant or delaying their response to the main landing should guarantee our success.”
“Sir, Lady Lunari is over 1000 miles from the main force. If I become heavily engaged, particularly with limited numbers of hawk attack ships, what unit will provide support?”
“We do not believe support will be needed for your portion of the operation. High Command is confident in the intelligence.”
Stone’s anger boiled over. High Command could be confident from their bunkers on Alpha Humana. To make matters worse, the spies employed by Xen Intelligence were almost never completely accurate and sometimes switched their alliances based on who paid the most.
“Sir, if Nero has been negotiating with the Terillians, how do we know that there are not already Terillian troops on J3? It seems that if there are Terillians on the planet—”
“Colonel,” interrupted Cataline, “I do not have time for second guessing of orders put forth by High Command and myself. This mission will take place. Do you understand, Colonel?”
“Sir, I understand. I am only concerned with the ability for my unit to be supported should we—”
“Enough, Colonel! I would not have expected such timidity from you. If you do not have the stomach to command a regiment then I shall find someone who does. We are far from the protection of your adopted family, Mr. Stone, a fact you may have forgotten.”
Stone rose from his chair, his hand involuntarily moving toward his sword. He could not believe this coward was challenging his honor. “General, I have served faithfully in more combat missions than any officer involved in this operation. Furthermore, I am not the one that should be worried about the distance from the political powers at home. Do not forget, General,” he grumbled. “I am no longer Elite Guard and as such am now authorized to claim the right of proporia combata. If you truly question my honor, you can face me in single combat and in my victory I’ll take both your life and all of your property, leaving nothing for your lineage.” Stone stared coldly into Cataline’s eyes. “Remember this before you question my honor again.”
Cataline paused as he contemplated Stone’s not-so-idle threat. He grew pale as Stone’s words began to sink into his mind. “I meant no challenge to your honor, Colonel. That does not change the fact that I am your commanding officer and you have been assigned your mission. Do you wish to carry it out?”
“Whether I wish to or not does not matter. I will perform my duty. If there is nothing else, General, I would like to return to my men and prepare for our mission.”
Cataline stood silent. His only recognition of Stone’s comment was a slight turning of his head.
After a few seconds, Stone excused himself from the table and left to prepare for a mission he knew to be a mistake. As he made his way to his quarters, he spoke out loud to himself. “Sketchy intelligence, inexperienced troops and commanders, not to mention a renegade warlord thrown in—not the best way to start a war.”
***
The officer’s lounge onboard Pantelus Varuk was packed. With over four hundred officers from ship’s crew, 350 aviators, and 250 infantry officers, the lounge was never short of patrons. Each clique usually stuck to themselves, especially in the 150 Corner lounge where only officers from First Families had access.
Although the military band was playing stylized versions of the military tunes that had become all the rage on Alpha Humana, they could barely be heard over the low roar of countless conversations common at military functions. Oaths regarding upcoming military exploits, stories of beautiful women, and other tall tales and boasting were lively, ubiquitous, and generally more fancy than fact.
Among the sea of officers, Martin sat at the table with some other captains from the 25th and Major Gates. While they chuckled, laughed, and made jokes about the pilots, she pretended to listen but was already mentally preparing for the mission, especially the landing.
“Where’s Jackson?” asked one of the captains. “I figured he would have been the first one here.”
“How should I know where Lieutenant Jackson spends his leisure time?” replied Martin, even though she knew exactly where he was. She had been watching him for the last twenty minutes.
“Oh, there he is,” said another captain at the table as he pointed to a table near the bar.
Jackson was sitting with two “ladies” from the recreation division. The girls were intently listening to Jackson, who was no doubt telling tales of past missions.
“He seems to be doing pretty well for himself,” laughed one of captains.
“If you can call that doing well,” interrupted Martin, showing her disdain for both Jackson and the two women he had enthralled in conversation. The recreation divisions were a new invention in the fleet. Comprised of only the best looking young women in the fleet, they were detailed from their enlisted billets and eager civilian volunteers to act as hostesses, and sometimes more, in the officer’s lounges of capital ships. Volunteers came forward in droves. The opportunity for women from common or even middling families to interact with and possibly snare a husband from a good family being a great incentive.
Back at Martin’s table, the conversation turned to their new commander.
“I hear our new CO is a hard-ass,” said Captain Raynes.
“Yeah, but I heard he was a political appointee too,” added Captain Drey.
“No, he used to be Elite Guard and was promoted with the reorganization,” said Captain Baines, adding to the story.
“That doesn’t matter, he has the lineage of a First Family and is marrying Lady Astra, the eldest daughter of Senator Varus,” replied Raynes. “Talk about hitting the jackpot.”
“A colonelcy, a beautiful wife, and a First Family—talk about luck,” laughed Drey.
“It’s not luck,” interrupted Martin, no longer able to keep quiet. “He’s earned everything he’s got and more. As for his engagement…I quit trying to figure out First Family politics years ago.”
“You seem a little sensitive about the subject, Emily,” joked Drey. “I know you’re from the Guard, but maybe you and the colonel know each other a little better than that?”
Martin’s face grew red. “Screw you, Drey. He was…is my commanding officer,” replied Martin. “That…is all.”
The table could tell the topic of discussion was getting a little uncomfortable. After a few seconds of silence Major Gates spoke. “I think we need some more drinks.”
“I’ll get ‘em,” volunteered Martin, still staring at Drey.
As she stood from the table and walked toward the bar, she made eye contact with Jackson. By this time he had one of the girls on his lap and the other whispering something in his ear. Jackson raised his drink to Martin in celebration of his future conquest. She turned away as if he didn’t even exist. “Bastard,” she mumbled to herself after she turned away from Jackson and headed to the bar. At the bar Martin pushed her way to the front and grabbed the bartender’s attention.
Sometimes being beautiful had its advantages.
“What can I get you, Ma’am?” smiled the man behind the bar.
“Five shots of whiskey.”
“No problem, Captain,” replied the bartender.
It took only a few seconds and irritated everyone who had been waiting much longer for their drinks, but the man quickly returned with the whiskey for Martin. “Here you go, ma’am.”
“How much?” asked Martin.
“These drinks are on me,” came a voice fr
om behind her. “Put it on my tab.”
Martin could feel a body pressing up against hers. Turning slowly, her eyes landed squarely on the well-developed chest of a tall major. She looked at his nametag…“Gius.” She let out a frustrated puff of air. ‘Shit. A First Family asshole,’ she thought to herself.
To the left of Gius where two other men, one from the Venari family and another Gius, probably the tall man’s younger brother.
“Can I help you, Major?” asked Martin staring up at him, her contempt obvious.
“Oh, excuse me, Captain…what is it…Martin?” said the man with a dry smile as he obviously was more interested in Martin’s chest than her nametag. “You looked like a Recreation Girl from behind. I didn’t realize you were an officer.”
“Well I am an officer, Major. Sorry to disappoint you.”
“Oh,” he replied as he looked over her body, “you definitely don’t disappoint. I am Markus Gius of the Gius family…”
‘Blah, blah, blah,’ thought Martin as he spoke.
“…Perhaps you would like to join me in the 150 Corner for some drinks.”
Emily’s stomach turned at the thought. “No thanks, Major. I am an officer, not a—”
“I know, Captain,” said the man as he leaned in and put his hand on her back. “Still, you are nice to look at…maybe we could meet up later and…”
Martin felt the drinks she had already had start to come back up her throat. “Major, let me go…this is your only warning.”
The major’s face grew red with anger. “I am Major Markus Gius, a son of a First Family. If I ask for your company, I will have it.” As he spoke he moved his hand down to her behind and pulled her tighter.
Martin allowed him to pull her closer. “Major,” she whispered in his ear.
“Yes, honey.”
“I warned you.”
With that she wrenched his arm behind his back, grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the bar, breaking his nose. The man’s two companions started to move toward her but before they could take a step, Martin’s sword was holding them at bay.
Her arm locked around Gius’s head, forcing him against the bar. She leaned in close to his face. “I warned you, Major. I am not one of those foolish little whores looking for a husband. I am a Line Captain and member of the Elite Guard. Perhaps you should take your broken nose as a lesson in manners and be done with it.” She looked back toward the others. “You First Family pigs don’t own everything, despite what you think. If you want to continue this discussion, I shall take it as a sign of disrespect and challenge you to proporia combata for the insult.”
“Excuse me for my rash actions, Captain…I meant no disrespect,” replied Gius submissively, coming to the sudden realization that she was a Guard officer.
“Go back to your kind, Major.”
The once proud-looking First Family officer nodded and headed back to the 150 Corner with his followers in tow.
Martin turned back toward the bartender. “How much for the drinks?”
“On the house, Ma’am.”
“Thank you,” replied Martin as she picked up the drinks and made her way back to the table. “So what are we talking about now?” she asked as she distributed the drinks.
“Uh…nothing, Emily,” mumbled one of the captains, having seen her handle the three men. “Why don’t you tell us about our new CO?”
***
The men at Martin’s table were not the only ones to see her little scuffle. Jackson and his new “friends” had seen it all as well.
“How outlandish!” said the girl on Jackson’s lap. “What horrible behavior for a lady.”
“Yes,” said the other. “Obviously she comes from poor bloodlines.”
“Get up,” said Jackson dryly.
“What, honey?” replied the girl.
“I said get off of me!” ordered Jackson as he lifted the girl off of him and pushed the other aside.
“What’s wrong, honey?” said the second girl.
“Go find another ladder to climb,” answered Jackson as he walked away from the two and over to Martin’s table.
“My I join you?” he asked.
Major Gates, as the senior officer, motioned for him to sit.
“Thank you, sir,” he said as he sat across from Martin. “How are you doing, Captain Martin?” he asked.
“Good, Lieutenant, and you?”
“Better now,” he smiled as he joined the conversation.
***
After several hours the group at the table began to break up. Martin, Jackson, and Captain Drey remained.
“You’re alright, newbie,” said Jackson. “You’ve been able to hang with two Guard officers drink for drink…well almost.”
“Th…That’s right,” slurred the drunk captain, “Y-You g-guys…” Drey stopped mid-sentence trying to form his next thought.
“Almost is right,” smiled Martin. “I think you should call it a night, Captain Drey,” she added as she reached over to steady the wobbling captain.
“I th…think…right,” mumbled Drey as he clumsily rose from the table with the aid of Martin. After attempting to right the empty bottle he had knocked over in the process of standing, the captain cupped the overturned bottle then raised his hands and motioned for the bottle to not move. “G—good even…,” He took a deep breath. “…nning,” said the captain as he turned, stumbled, and began to stagger out of the bar.
“He’s gonna be hurting tomorrow,” laughed Jackson. “No way he’s making officer call.”
Martin let out a sigh and turned toward Jackson. “Well, Lieutenant,” she said, “I guess I will let you get to your evening, uh, activities.”
As she rose, she felt Jackson put his hand on her forearm. “Don’t be ridiculous, Emily. Sit for a while,” he asked. “I won’t bite…well, I might,” he added with a cocky look on his face.
Martin hesitated. She had done this before with Jackson, and always after a few drinks—and she’d had more than enough to drink. She was afraid of what might happen if she stayed, and at the same time hoped that it might. After a few seconds Martin shook her head slightly, took another deep breath, and ran her hands through her hair. “Fine,” sighed Martin. “But don’t expect this to be a repeat of that night on Port Royal. I won’t make that mistake again, regardless of how much I’ve had to drink.”
“Seriously, Em,” said Jackson in a calming voice. “No tricks. Just have a seat.”
Martin took a long look at Jackson. ‘I am going to regret this,’ she thought as she sat down again. “What do you want to talk about, Hugh?” she asked as she took another drink, looking for an excuse to make a bad decision. “How you were all cozied up with those trampy Recreation Girls? How you purposely took a demotion? Your incessant lack of military bearing?”
“I admit I am a jackass, Em,” replied Jackson, “but I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
Martin had given up on the glass and was drinking straight from the bottle now.
“Maybe I do, Hugh,” she snapped back. “Do you know what it’s like to have to see you constantly…your philandering, your jokes and taunting?” She paused. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Em, I didn—”
“I’m not done,” interrupted Martin. She took another drink from the bottle. “I took this assignment to get away from you. And you…you fucking followed me!” Martin continued, raising her voice.
“Wait,” interrupted Jackson. “I didn’t follow you here, Emily. I came for the same reason you did. You know I would follow him wherever he goes, no questions.”
Martin, suddenly feeling the effects of the alcohol, could see that Jackson was telling the truth—but she knew that already. “You…” Martin paused, her emotions and intoxication getting the best of her. “You get in my head and mix things up. Nobody else does that and it makes me less of a soldier. I know you’re not good for me, but I can’t get away from you, and neither one of us will leave him. So the o
nly thing I can do is to be a bitch and push you away from me.”
“I don’t make it easy, Em. I know,” said Jackson, putting his hand out toward hers. “I know I’m nothing but trouble for you. Why do you think I do half the things I do? Regardless of what I feel, I know I will mess things up and I won’t do that…again.”
Martin took another drink and bowed her head slightly, trying to sort out her emotions. “Damn you, Hugh. I hate that you can do this to me,” said Martin as she scooted closer to Jackson and put her right hand on his thigh.
Jackson removed her hand from his thigh and place both of them on the table. “I’m sorry, Em,” said Jackson softly. “I would love for tonight to end just like that night in Port Royal, but you’re right, it’s not fair. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore…that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
A lump formed in Martin’s throat and a tear started to well up in her right eye. At least she had been able to count on Jackson for good sex that she usually regretted the next day, but apparently he was going to screw that up too. “Hugh,” pleaded Martin as she moved her hand over his forearm gently, “it’s okay, I know what I’m—”
Martin again felt Jackson place her hand back with the other. As she looked at Jackson, she could tell he had no designs on her affection but his eyes gave away his feelings.
“Emily, I am putting in for a transfer after this mission.”
“No,” she replied. She hated how much Jackson could tear her up inside as soon as she left an opening.
“You’re right, Em. I only get in your way and cause trouble for you. I just needed to tell you to be careful.”
“What do you mean?” asked Martin. “You know my combat record…”
“I don’t mean that,” interjected Jackson. “Hell, you’re the best soldier I have ever seen. I am talking about being close to Stone as his political star rises.”
“You know I don’t give a damn about politics,” she replied.
“You might not. And we both know the Colonel only does what he feels is his social duty. Even if he hates it, he’ll do what he must to restore his family name. He feels he’s carrying the weight of his entire lineage on his back. But the Colonel’s fiancé…”
