Dannir nodded. “The Styrahi are concerned that piracy and lawlessness by frightened human colonists will break down relations on the Rim. Since the colonies operate largely on an independent basis, the creation of a Colonial Defense Force, as suggested, could create resentment on the part of colonists. Without a unified defense plan, the Rim is exceptionally vulnerable to attack. Letting this situation continue unchecked could spell disaster when the Greys return.”
“Of course it could, but we’re talking about a defensive plan between sixteen planets and four star systems.”
Dannir nodded. “That will be the political piece, yes. I am working on a delegation to the colonies, but the Styrahi have asked to lead it. I am inclined to let them.”
The Styrahi had pulled back from Earth relations after the Grey assault and had been keeping their distance for the last twenty years. Crawley believed it was partially from embarrassment. The Styrahi home-world defense, ordered by their own council, had depleted forces and left the Terran Defense Force holding the bag. That Libretto remained in allied hands was nothing short of a miracle.
Crawley studied the younger man’s face and liked what he saw. “Having their forces involved in the squadron will keep them invested.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Dannir said. “Now, how can we have the force commanded by a dead man?”
“Have Kieran be credited as a lynchpin in the investigation of poor exercise practices but unavailable for comment. Given the circumstances, that would be understandable.”
“He does not know about his wife or the circumstances around her death?”
Crawley shook his head. “He’s been in communication blackout for more than two weeks. He returns to Earth tonight.”
“How will he respond?”
“Like any other human being, Emeke. I’m ensuring that his friends will be around him. I expect he will be able to deploy on schedule. The Styrahi will provide the Outer Rim transport in five months. Roark will be on Pluto-Charon in three.” Crawley sipped his coffee in silence for a moment.
Dannir appeared to be deep in thought. “Before I give you my blessing, there is another matter of importance here on Earth.”
Crawley covered his surprise. There was nothing else they should be speaking about besides the reaction-squadron deployment. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
The prelate nodded. “As the commander in chief for Earth’s forces, the prelate has never involved himself directly in the conduct of the Fleet and the Terran Defense Force until now. This reaction squadron will be viewed across both commands as a forced political action. Truth be told, the squadron is more than a test of capability and doctrine. I expect that what we learn in the next several months will redefine how we conduct training, regardless of the force. Therefore, I am recommending that Fleet and TDF forces restructure their training programs under one general officer, much like the joint-chiefs-of-staff structure once employed by the Americans. Thoughts?”
Crawley considered this. “There are several officers in the Fleet whom I would recommend for the job, but they would not have much influence on easing the transition of the TDF.”
“My sentiments exactly,” Dannir said. “That’s why I want you in the position, Adam. With a third star.”
Crawley opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. After such a long career, there was little that could stun him into silence. Even with genetic modification and lifespan extension, two stars would have been his limit. After the hijinks of the last few weeks, retirement had found its way into his thoughts for the first time. But as much as he wanted to go quietly into the sunset, he knew the truth: his work was not done.
“And the sleeper program?”
“Training,” Dannir said with a sly grin. “Everything you’ve reported on this program relates to how we train a new generation to defend Earth. The reaction squadron will clean up the Outer Rim and provide the first line of defense in case of a major attack.”
Crawley coughed against the sudden tightness in his throat. “I’m sorry. What about the other subjects in development? They won’t go to the reaction squadron but straight into the force?”
“That’s up to you, Adam.” Dannir smiled. “I need your assistance in determining where your people will best fit. They need to be in places where they will have an immediate and lasting impact in case they are prematurely lost. I don’t want the rest of your people assigned to special projects, and I will never enter discussions for any type of special operations forces. We need our conventional forces to excel, not just to be a small percentage of the total effort.”
Crawley smiled. “I could not agree more, Sir Prelate.”
“How soon can you restart the program?”
“We can have more sleepers awake on our walkabout in the next three months. We’ll stay with normal protocols, for the moment.”
“Good,” Dannir said. “My staff will initiate a way to refute Roark’s death and instate a no-contact order for any media sources. He is immediately promoted to commander and assigned to the reaction squadron at Pluto-Charon, after a period of rest and recuperation at your determination.”
“He’ll be there in three months,” Crawley replied. “It will be tough, but he’ll be ready.”
“Very well.” Dannir checked his watch. “We have a few moments, Adam. Would you tell me Roark’s story? The standard briefing was good, but I’d like to know more. Do you have time?”
Crawley nodded. “Then, I’ll have to head back. He should hear the bad news from me and no one else.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Seeing Earth approach in the windows of the Anthaarra was every bit the ethereal experience I’d thought it would be. Leaving Earth for Mars training several months before, our instructors had run my pilot training class through simulation after simulation, barely leaving time for meals and sleep. Looking out the window, even for some healthy introspection, was strictly forbidden. I got why they had wanted it that way. Once I saw the Earth from space, I was forever changed. The little blue planet was stunningly beautiful and so fragile against the blackness of space. Watching it approach, I could only see the oceans until suddenly the continents were visible under soft blankets of clouds. Every day, through my familiarization with the Styrahi military corps, I’d made time for looking out the window. In the absence of surfing, I had a pretty good idea of what could relax me and distract me from my anxiety.
Of that, there was plenty. For all I knew, the TDF had gone through with the notification to my next of kin, meaning that they’d approached our house at some horrible hour in dress uniforms and relayed the message I was dead. Or did Crawley give her more information than he should have, just like always? If Crawley is dead, then what does anyone on Earth know? The thought of Berkeley or any of my friends dealing with my “death” a second time hurt deeply. Allan would be there for her—of that I was certain. I could almost see her sobbing into his chest as the TDF officers held their hats in their hands and looked somberly frozen to our doorstep. Walking into our home after being dead again would not be a happy reunion. Berkeley would be mad as hell, and I wouldn’t blame her. She would immediately understand that if there was a third time, it was going to be very real. That was absolutely certain.
Leaning against the window, I could see the eastern coast of South America coming into view. The mouth of the Amazon River split the landscape like an axe through wood. I followed the coastline past Rio de Janeiro all the way to Argentina. The southern edge of the Tierra del Fuego was just past the setting sun as the Earth rotated away from us.
“Always wanted to go there,” I said to myself.
“You can still go,” Thirenalla said from the hatch behind me. She’d quietly snuck up on me a half-dozen times in the last several days.
“How do you move so quietly?”
She laughed. “You’ve never had children around
your house, have you?”
I had to laugh. Berkeley and I hadn’t really talked about having children, but I could see one changing our lives forever. “No, I haven’t.”
Her smile was genuine and open, if a bit sad. “We’re six hours from arrival in orbit. You will depart soon thereafter.”
“Thank you.”
Every interaction on the ship had been amazingly productive and helpful. I knew that some of my fellow humans were, by definition, anything but productive and helpful. Too many were like Peck, trying to find a shortcut to authority and power instead of learning and caring for others. Part of that caring was understanding who we fought for. On Earth, centuries of peace developed from the acceptance of religion, sex, creed, and a host of other factors. I imagined there were still pockets of humanity that feared and hated the Styrahi. Truthfully, they were more human than we were. I’d learned the story of Earth’s first contact from Berkeley during walkabout, but hearing it from the perspective of the Styrahi was intriguing. They had believed they would find a culture of war, where power overruled logic. Humans would be strong fighting allies who could just be pointed in the direction of battle and told to kill for the common good.
They got something else entirely. The TDF was a blundering force led by men and women without leadership skills. Fleet was only slightly better, probably because flying a spacecraft required more focus. There were too many things capable of going wrong. Fleet prepared for those things while the TDF merely did what the higher-ranking officers said to do without question or complaint. The entire system made no sense.
Moreover, Crawley not only knew who I was from his ancestor’s diary, but the diary specifically said I had ideas about future combat. The commandant had known I had something percolating in my mind, as did General Faraa, and they had changed the boundaries of the exercise to try it out. That it had worked surprised none of them, least of all Faraa.
Two days before, she’d told me as much on the hangar deck as I really saw the Styrahi aircraft for the first time. “The Styrahi deploy forces with quick air strikes and a rapid ground-force engagement, not unlike your reaction squadron. The difference is that our ground forces have typically been outmatched and must be sacrificed to the cause or evacuated. We use a lot of assets to ensure the latter.”
“You have an infantry-based ground force, General. They cannot hold against an armored threat like the Greys.” A reaction squadron alone would not be able to stop a Grey assault, especially with a worthless force guarding Earth. “The volume of their forces can overrun just about everything.”
Faraa nodded. “Were it not for the Battle of Libretto, we would consider them unbeatable. Integrated air and ground attacks are capable of holding the Greys at bay. What you proposed, and showed possible, was that lightning could be caught in a bottle. We can build a better force from there. You are a large part of that.”
Accepting the last part of her words proved difficult and was the reason for a lot of my window watching over the last couple of days. There was no way I could do this alone. A team of professionals who believed in the concept would be critical to success, as would those leaders above me—both civilian and military. Without Crawley, that would be impossible. Berkeley would have to be there with me as part shoulder to cry on and part sounding board. If she wasn’t there, I had no idea what to do. Outside of Lily—if the Styrahi ever allowed her to reboot—no one understood me. Being misunderstood wasn’t something that would keep me from doing the best that I could to complete the mission, but being understood would help.
Every time I peered out at the Earth growing larger in the distance, I knew I had to try.
Once we’d settled into orbit, I found General Faraa and Thirenalla waiting on the flight deck. Thirenalla held a foil-wrapped package under one arm as I approached to say my goodbyes.
“What’s this?” I said, pointing to the package. “A parting gift?”
Thirenalla grinned. “Exposure suit. We’re dropping you in the ocean off Esperance.”
My mouth stopped before I formed the question. Australia was a “no alien” zone, for reasons unknown. Most likely, they could get around the restrictions because of the involvement with the TDF and Fleet bases there, but it was better not to tempt fate. Also, I had to remember that I was dead. “How far off the coast?”
“About ten kilometers,” Thirenalla said. “The suit has a built-in strobe and a low-powered radio transmitter. Your pickup team will be watching nearby. Accuracy will not be a problem. Besides, you need some tube experience. It is a primary delivery system for Terran Defense Force vehicles and, on occasion, infantry.”
My eyebrows rose. The Heinlein tube was an exoatmospheric delivery system theorized in a great book and made real by technology. Essentially, a protected capsule would free fall through the atmosphere until a point where the shell would break away and the occupant would parachute to the ground. Truth be told, I couldn’t wait.
“I always said I’d jump out of a perfectly good aircraft again.” I smiled, and they both smiled back.
Thirenalla eschewed the traditional parting blessing and wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Be careful, Kieran. We will see you again on the Rim.”
“Thank you.”
General Faraa held up her hands, palm up, which I took in my hands and kissed. She, too, embraced me in a curious mash-up of two cultures. “Be strong in the storm, but do not break.”
There was more, something in Styrahi that I could not understand. I missed Lily being able to tell me precisely what it was, but I assumed it was a traditional blessing, and that was fine with me. The sooner I was home and in my wife’s arms, the better. I couldn’t wait.
“You’ll want to put the suit on before you step into the tube,” Faraa said.
They stepped away through a circular hatch and waited at an observation window. Inside the package was a black and dark-green waterproof suit. I tugged it over my clothes, and as I zipped it closed across my chest, a semirigid cloth helmet deployed and covered my face. A tiny screen appeared and let me see outside as if I were looking through a porthole.
A Styrahi technician gestured to the cord dangling from my left shoulder and then to the circular wall inside the tube. I plugged the two together, and the display came to life. Connected to the pod itself, I had 360 degrees of vision in visual and infrared bands.
Awesome.
The next gesture told me sit in the capsule. Automatic straps snaked around my arms, legs, pelvis, and chest to cinch me down tighter than any ejection seat. The technician stepped in and put her hands on my forehead. A strap snaked around my head as well. I was immobile, and a quick flash of fear made Heinlein’s book all too real.
There was a beep in my ears I hadn’t heard in two weeks. <
Finally. Without Lily, I’d really been alone. It would be two minutes before I’d be able to speak to her. As the technician held up one finger, I knew that I probably wouldn’t be talking for a couple of minutes. Pulling high Gs does that to a body.
The hatch closed, and a soft voice filled my ears. “Stand by, tube one. Thirty seconds. Have a safe jump.”
I didn’t recognize the voice, but I felt a reply was in order whether she could hear me or not. “Thank you all for everything. We’ll see you on the Rim.”
“We will indeed. Fifteen seconds. Capsule on internal power and final checks. You are go for drop.”
“Go for drop,” I replied. And scared to death.
I tried to relax, but hearing a countdown in my ears made that pretty much impossible. My mind flashed back to the early days of the space shuttle. I’d written a Congressman about wanting to be an astronaut and received a pass to view a launch in Florida. Amongst the older generation of rocket fanatics and drunken college students, I’d watched Columbia roar into a cool April sky.
As the voice counted down past five, I
closed my eyes and clenched my jaw. When the count hit one, I said, “Geronimo!” Legend had it that was what my airborne brethren said during the first parachute tests four hundred years before. Somehow, it fit. Between that and an old British television show about a time traveler in a police box, it fit pretty damned well, I guessed.
Then the world vibrated, and I fell.
Ayumi traced the edge of a glass of bourbon with her finger and stared into the orange-and-purple sunset over the Pacific. The Fleet Perth Officers’ Club was a thing of beauty compared to other such facilities on Earth and through the rest of the galaxy. The last respite of home for deploying service members, it was a veritable paradise on the beach by design. The open, airy bar opened onto a wide veranda where nightly dancing and live music was a staple. The arrangement allowed Ayumi to sit just inside, where the temperature was slightly warmer, but she didn’t have to listen to the inane banter of Fleet pilots clustered around their drinks and talking with their hands. They were trainees and young officers. Crawley had used his considerable influence to allow her to bypass five years of training and check rides as well as unmitigated hell as a staff officer.
Still, she felt alive and in balance. After Chastity’s successful rescue, Crawley had allowed her to return her facial features to their original state, which helped them both feel at home. Unpacking stasis mode had taken a day, and the results had been stunning. Even at her best, Mally had never felt fully in control of Amy’s body, and Amy’s reluctant tendencies often miscommunicated data between her bodily systems, inducing higher blood pressure and abnormal stress levels. With stasis mode in place, everything worked in perfect synchronicity, and it couldn’t have been done at a better time.
In the morning, she’d catch an orbital shuttle to Fleet Battle Platform Yorktown and deploy to Pluto-Charon with the gold leaves of a lieutenant commander on her shoulders and clearance to fly both the Devastator and Osprey. But that night, she sat in civilian clothes for the last time before a long deployment, enjoying a drink and being human. Both were still new experiences for her, and she took the opportunity to enjoy them one more time before she deployed.
Vendetta Protocol Page 33
