Rebels in Arms

by Ben Weaver

  The lieutenant colonel stiffened. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”

  “They fucked us over,” Halitov gritted out.

  “What was that, Captain?” asked Diablo.

  “Sir, nothing, sir. Absolutely nothing.”

  “Very well. Now just remember we’re on Gamma Alert. Total lockdown. Dismissed.”

  We saluted, left, and in the corridor outside, I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.

  “Satisfied?” asked Halitov, hollering above the still-wailing alarms. “Now we really know what loyalty is, huh? No reconditioning. No meeting with your brother. And now we’re stuck here. Our transfer’s official.”

  “We don’t have to accept this,” said Jing.

  “What? Go AWOL?” Halitov asked, beginning to chuckle.

  “Yeah, then we do what you said. Maybe we contact the alliances and make them an offer.”

  “I’m ready to do that right now!”

  “Both of you shut up,” I said, wrenching myself from the wall. “We’re not going AWOL, and we’re not cutting any deals with the alliances. This is Rexi-Calhoon, the capital world of our new government. We will defend it.”

  “Scott, you’re letting them walk all over you,” Jing said, grabbing my shoulders. “It’s not right. We’re soldiers. We don’t lie down. We fight.”

  “That’s right. So we stay here. And we fight. If my brother’s alive, I’m going to find him myself. I still believe in something, and that’s being a soldier. I have to believe.”

  “Oh, yeah? Believe in this: you can still be a good soldier without letting the machine take advantage of you.” She got directly in my face. “Listen to me, Scott. You’re going to contact Ms. Brooks, and you’re going to make your demands.”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s go.”

  She actually dragged me by the hand, all the way down the hall, toward one of the communications hubs.

  Once we reached a hub, an MP outside cleared us for entrance. Jing asked one of about twelve comm officers seated at stations to track down Ms. Brooks, who we assumed was inside the capital building. While we waited, I watched a few of the video feeds, two of them piped in from civilian news stations. Though I expected citywide panic, citizens moved swiftly but orderly through the subways, toward evacuation zones. Rexicity, it seemed, had been preparing for attack since the very beginning of the war.

  We learned from the comm officer that the capital had, indeed, been evacuated, and that Ms. Brooks had been moved to a Guard Corps operations bunker not found on any map. Finally, the officer patched in to her tablet, and her face appeared on his screen.

  “Ms. Brooks?” I began. “Sorry to bother you at a time like this.”

  “Let me talk to her,” Halitov said, shoving me out of the way. “Ma’am, we have a problem.”

  “What is it, Captain?”

  “I joined the Wardens because you promised me I would be reconditioned.”

  “We haven’t broken our promise. You will be.”

  “How?”

  “Trust us.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “You need to be patient,” she said slowly.

  I elbowed my way past Halitov. “Ma’am. What about my brother?”

  Her eyes widened. “The lieutenant colonel gave you Fifth Battalion, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then if I were you, I’d go meet the man who’s commanding Turbo Company. He might look familiar.”

  My jaw fell open. “He’s here?”

  “I had him transferred.”

  I bolted out of there, running like a madman down the hall. I grabbed MPs, privates, even another major to ask where I could find Fifth Battalion’s billets. Eventually, I located the door marked Turbo Company and burst into the administrative offices.

  A second lieutenant sprang up from her desk. “Sir!” She saluted me and stood, visibly trembling.

  “Where’s the company commander?” I demanded.

  “Sir, he’s with the company, sir. They’re on the confidence course, sublevel eight.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Sir, we’ve been expecting you. Would you like to—”

  I was out the door before she finished.

  The confidence course, an urban combat environment replete with skyscrapers and small business lining a half dozen city blocks, reminded me of similar courses I’d trained on, some of them computer-generated but none of them as real or as elaborate. A squad corporal at the nearest rooftop monitoring post agreed to contact the commander, whose name, she said, was Captain Taris Markland. I shuddered at the name, suddenly thinking that Ms. Brooks had lied to me, that this Taris Markland was not my brother operating with a new identity.

  But when an airjeep came whirring up, and the captain hopped out, onto the roof, my knees buckled.

  I was about to shout my brother’s real name, then thought better of it. “Captain!”

  When his gaze met mine, his jaw went slack, and he stumbled toward me. “Scott?”

  Jarrett’s hair looked longer, his face a bit more rugged than I remembered. His dark gray utilities fit him well, and the way he carried himself…I couldn’t believe it. One look at him, and you knew who was in charge. He was a captain. A commander. Nothing about him suggested otherwise.

  We embraced right there, on top of that roof, in that faux city far below the surface. It seemed fitting for a couple of mining brothers to reunite in a place like that.

  I pulled back and just stared at him. “You’re a ghost.”

  “You too.”

  “And you’re a captain.”

  “You’re a major,” he countered, glancing at my major’s angle. “Guess I owe you a salute.” He took a step back, raised his hand.

  I gripped his wrist. “You didn’t want this.”

  He slid out of my grip. “They never gave me a choice. They told me you were dead.”

  I nodded. “We both were.” I wiped off a tear and grinned awkwardly. “You haven’t changed.”

  “You’re wrong. And look at you…” His gaze found my eyes, my hair.

  “It’s my conditioning.”

  “We all had that problem. They fixed ours. Why didn’t they fix yours?”

  I shrugged. “They wanted to. But it’s just…I don’t know…bad timing, I guess. There was a second facility on Aire-Wu. It’s gone now.”

  “What about Exeter?”

  “That facility is tommyed.”

  “So what’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He bit his lip, began losing his breath.

  “Hey, we’re back together. Brothers in arms. That’s all that matters.”

  “Yeah. I just can’t believe I’m standing here, talking to you. I can’t believe it.”

  “I wish we could talk to Dad,” I said. “He thinks you’re dead. He must think I’m dead by now, too.”

  “I thought Dad was—”

  “No, they said he’s on Kennedy-Centauri. They said he’s okay.”

  “Do we believe them?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Ms. Brooks came through this time, but they’ll all lie to save their asses. Being a soldier…it’s nothing like I’d thought it’d be. Nothing at all.”

  He squeezed my shoulder. “You’d better not be that way, because let me tell you something—I made it all the way to captain because of you.”

  “Because of me?”

  “I let myself buy into this honor crap. And you know what? I actually believe it now. I actually think that what the colos are doing is right. I want to fight for ’em.”

  “But now the Wardens are trying to take over the Seventeen. What do you think of that?”

  “I think it’s okay. The Seventeen is too disorganized. We’re bringing order—and we’re still fighting for the same side. Why are you giving me that look?”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Take the
blame. You had to go and die. Make me feel guilty, make me realize that I had to be a good soldier because that’s what you would’ve wanted.”

  I shook my head. “Are you really my brother?”

  “Yeah, and now that you’re alive, I guess I can give this all up, go AWOL like I wanted to in the first place, head back home, maybe get a job in the mines, if the alliances don’t control them, right?”

  “I guess you are my brother,” I said. “They didn’t brainwipe you.”

  “They threatened us with that a few times, but I just kept thinking that if you were dead and Dad was dead, somebody had to remember you guys, and it had to be me.”

  “So now I can’t call you Jarrett anymore…”

  “No. But I will always be your brother.”

  I gave him an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately.”

  My brother made a face, then tossed a look back to his airjeep. “Well, Scott. There’s a fleet up there breathing down our necks. And we’re supposed to be getting some new people, including a new battalion commander, so I have to get my ass and my new company’s asses in gear before the CO arrives. You know, we have to put on a little show for him before he gives the usual pep talk. Then I bet we’ll be topside, waiting for those crab carriers to show, if they show. What about you?”

  “Yeah, I’m real busy, too.”

  “But you’re not leaving now. You can’t leave.”

  “No. I’m sure I’ll see you again,” I said.

  He gave me sharp hug. “God, this is like a dream. I don’t know how many times I’ve told people my kid brother’s dead. And here you are.”

  “You too.”

  My brother strode off toward his airjeep. I could not have been more proud, could not have savored the moment any more than I had, though I looked forward to another moment when he learned that his kid brother wasn’t just alive but was, in fact, his CO.

  I found Halitov and Jing waiting for me outside Turbo Company’s door, and to my surprise, they both seemed rather agreeable.

  “What?” I asked.

  Halitov shrugged. “Was it him?”

  “Yeah, he’s fine.”

  “Aren’t you mad?” he asked. “They lied to you.”

  “I don’t care anymore. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

  “I’ll have to go say hi,” Halitov said. “Like I said, I’ve always liked him.”

  “You had a funny way of showing it.”

  “Yeah, well, that was then.”

  “So, what did Ms. Brooks say?”

  “Whatever we want…she’ll work it out,” Jing said. “More money, nice homes…whatever.”

  Halitov sighed. “Whether she comes through, well, all we can do is wait and see. I still don’t trust her, but what’re we going to do?”

  I steeled my gaze on him, on both of them. “Our duty.”

  “You’re amazing,” Jing said, more in disbelief than awe.

  “No. I just won’t let any of this make me forget who I am.” They nodded slowly. “All right. What’re we doing standing around? We have a lot of work to do. I want a meeting with company commanders and squad sergeants ASAP. And I want the entire battalion assembled and ready to move in twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” Halitov said. “I’m on it.”

  “I’ll go meet my people,” said Jing.

  They started off. “Oh, by the way,” I added, drawing their gazes. “Thank you.”

  Jing brightened. “You’re welcome.”

  “Yeah, you’d better say thank you,” said Halitov. “You put me through a whole lot of bullshit. And I’m blaming it all on you.” He grinned, then marched off.

  My meeting with the company commanders and sergeants was all business, save for the first five minutes, when Jarrett AKA Taris, immediately raised his hand, then stood among the group crammed into the briefing room. “Sir, you’re our new battalion commander, sir?”

  “That’s correct, Captain,” I said, struggling to contain my grin. “You sound as though you don’t believe that.”

  “Sir, I believe it, sir.”

  “Any other questions, Captain?”

  Jarrett smiled, shook his head. “No, sir.” As he sat, I caught him chuckling to himself. The squad sergeant next to him, an attractive brunette whom I would later learn was his lover, whispered something to him, but he just waved her off.

  I gave my new people updates on the Alliance fleet’s position, estimates of the invasion force aboard their ships, then relayed our plan of defense, as dictated to me by Lieutenant Colonel Diablo. We would be taken over to Columbia Colony, some nineteen thousand kilometers away. There, we would establish a perimeter around LockMar Randall, an Exxo-Tally defense contractor who designed navigation and targeting systems for extrasolar craft. It was imperative that the site, which encompassed nearly ten kilometers of hangars, test facilities, and tarmacs, neither be occupied nor damaged by alliance forces. Though it was no glamour or hero mission, there were still civilian engineers working within the plant whose efforts were so vital to the war that they were not being evacuated. Most of my commanders had a hard time accepting that, and I simply read to them my own briefing: “Your mission is to secure the facility and ensure that production does not cease under any circumstances.” I further added that those civvies inside knew the risks and had all signed contracts regarding their responsibilities.

  “But we should expect some fallout,” Halitov added. “You couldn’t pay me enough to stay there.”

  That drew a few chuckles.

  I dismissed the group, and they went off to assemble their companies in sub hangar twenty-one, from where we would board ATCs bound for Columbia.

  Jing, however, hung around, waiting for me. “Ready for the big speech?”

  “I think you’ll be surprised.”

  “Scott. I mean, Major—”

  “Scott will do, Lieutenant. I mean, Katya.”

  She lowered her head, trying in vain to hide her smile. “I just wanted to…you know, talk.”

  “I wish we had more time.”

  “I know. I guess I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”

  “That might be difficult.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, because most of the time you’re either making me realize what an idiot I am or you’re kicking my ass.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s what I need.”

  She narrowed her gaze on me. “What else do you need?”

  I smiled. “Hey, I, uh, I need you close.”

  “So I can save your ass.”

  “I’ll take all the help I can get. Ready?”

  “For the big speech? I can’t wait.”

  Every member of Fifth Battalion stared up at me as I crossed onto a dais and glanced out across the hundreds of troops. I didn’t bother to introduce myself; I felt certain the rumors of my taking command had already reached them all. “Who are you?” I boomed.

  “Colonial Wardens, sir!”

  The fervor and volume of their voices shocked the hell out of me. With a chill, I went on. “What do you do?”

  “We fight! We win!”

  “Very well, then. Speech over! Time to fight. Time to win. On the ready line! Move! Move! Move!”

  Stunned by my brevity, the long lines of soldiers broke apart and scrambled for their boarding lines.

  Halitov stepped over to me. “Your best speech yet,” he said with a wink. “Loved it.”

  Later on I would regret not having said more to those soldiers. I guess I wanted to be regarded as a CO who was all business and unconcerned with pomp and circumstance, a characteristic I knew they would like. I had assumed that they were seasoned specialists, former guardsmen who had been hand-picked by the Wardens because of their extraordinary capabilities. I had assumed that they had all heard more than their share of pep talks and had become, like me, experts at falling asleep with their eyes open. I had been right. But even those people, the best of the best, could not have anticipa
ted what would happen once we reached Columbia Colony. No one saw that coming. And I wish I would’ve said something to them, even just a thank-you, or, perhaps, a more powerful rallying cry, something that would have allowed them to deal with the situation better, something that would’ve reminded them that I understood, really understood, that moment when you are certain you are going to die.

  “How many did you lose at Columbia?” came a familiar voice from the front row of graduating cadets.

  I froze, looked at the beautiful young woman—Joanna St. Andrew, my daughter—then stared off at the mesas beyond the academy grounds.

  “How many?” she repeated.

  “Nearly all of them.”

  “But not your XO. Not Halitov.”

  “That’s right. I forgave him for that.”

  I had never told her the story. She frowned.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid that’s all the time I have. As you embark on your new careers, ask yourselves this—am I going to let the failures ruin me? Or am I going to accept and learn from them? Am I going to become stronger because of them? Finally, do I know, really know, where my loyalty should lie?” I sighed. “Now, I have to get the hell out of here. I have a war to prevent. Good luck to you all.”

  As I moved away from the lectern, the thunder of their applause sent a chill up my spine. I was reminded that if I failed in my new mission, my daughter and the rest would know pain, suffering, and death the way I knew them. I prayed for their naïveté. I prayed for peace.

  Acknowledgments

  I’m indebted to Jennifer Brehl and Diana Gill at Eos for their support and encouragement. Without them, Captain Scott St. Andrew would have seen early retirement at the end of book one!

  My agent, John Talbot, continues to inspire me with his keen wit and pragmatic advice regarding the publishing industry.

  Finally, both Robert Drake and Caitlin Blasdell helped me create this series, and I know they’re very proud of what we’ve accomplished.

  About the Author

  BENJAMIN ANDREW WEAVER is a military scholar, astronomer, and armchair physicist with a keen interest in weapons technology, quantum theory, and the search for extrasolar planets. He spent three years conceiving, researching, and writing the first Scott St. Andrew novel, Brothers in Arms, from his home in Central Florida.