Patriots in Arms

by Ben Weaver

  “Just getting ready to watch our friend the war correspondent. She posted her report on Columbia.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to approve that report?”

  “Yeah, but she posted it anyway. She’s pissed off at me. Let’s hope there’s nothing classified there.”

  “Hey, I scored us another bottle of vodka. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Rooslin, I just want to lay here and watch this and maybe get a little sleep, all right?”

  “Too late,” he said. “Me and my personal guard are already on our way.” He broke the link. Bastard.

  The hatchcomm beeped. That couldn’t be him already. “Yes?”

  “Sir,” began one of the MPs. “Captain Paul Beauregard here to see you, sir?”

  I tensed. Beauregard? The colonel’s son had actually fit me into his busy calendar? I pulled myself from the gelrack, checked the video, swore over how young he looked, then opened the hatch.

  “Hey, Scott.” He wore a wounded expression, and his voice barely rose above a whisper. He offered his hand—

  And I just looked at it. “I’ll let you in, but I will tell you what a fucking asshole you are.”

  “Whoa. Nice to see you again, too.” He steered his swimmer’s frame into my quarters. He carried a small, potted tree under one arm, its pods flat, its flowers pink and vibrant.

  “What do you want?”

  He cocked a brow, and once more I cursed his youth as he placed the tree near my desk. There was something about him, I wasn’t sure what. His self-assurance was gone. He was distracted, even a little choked-up. “I just came to say hi. I mean, we thought we lost you at Columbia.”

  “You actually give a shit?”

  “C’mon, Paul. You know I do. How’d you get out of there?”

  “Just got lucky. That’s all.”

  “We make our own luck.”

  My lip twisted. “Yeah, you’re good at that.”

  He shrugged off the barb. “So what’s it been, nearly a month now? The last time was at the service for Breckinridge.”

  “Yeah. I miss her. I know Jing does.”

  “How is Jing?”

  “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  His frown looked sincere, but he was a good actor. “What? How would I know?”

  “Is she working for your father?”

  “We all are.”

  I took a few steps toward him. “You know what I mean.”

  “Look, if she’s running a special op, I couldn’t tell you—even if I knew.”

  I shook my head in disgust, then lifted my chin at the tree. “What’re you doing with that?”

  “I’m giving it to you. They call it a redbud. Comes all the way from Earth. I thought you could use a little greenery in your life. You know how surrounding yourself with living things makes you—”

  “Yeah, I do. Especially when you’re fast forwarding through your life.” I whirled from him, plopped on the gelrack. “What’s wrong with you? You come here with a tree?”

  “Hey, man, if you don’t like it—”

  “Fuck it.”

  Yes, I had shocked him. And, after a moment’s contemplation, he finally said, “Look, I didn’t mean to go to Exeter alone. It just worked out that way.”

  “We deserved to go. And what did you do? You went. Without even telling us. Left us hanging. Thanks, friend.”

  “Scott, you know there wasn’t time.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Paul. Just don’t.” He had no idea how important those words were—especially after what Halitov had done.

  “I’m not lying. You guys had already been reassigned. I figured you’d be too busy catching up with your brother to worry about recovering Dina’s body. Besides, we got recalled anyway. As far as I know, Dina’s still hanging in that cave.”

  “Your father said we’re going back.”

  “Yes, we are. And he’s letting us take a small team into the caves to recover Dina’s body. You, Halitov, and Jing are all coming.”

  “Oh, so now we get our chance? Guilt got the best of you?”

  He looked away, wouldn’t answer.

  I sighed. “So how’d you convince your father to let us go? Halitov and I are supposed to be advising from the rear.”

  He began to answer, but the hatchcomm cut him off. I let the devil and his bottle of vodka inside. “Beauregard,” Halitov said with a curt nod, then cast a curious glance at me.

  “You mad, too?” Paul asked Halitov.

  “Let’s see, uh, you fucking shipped off without us…” He squinted hard in mock thought. “Yeah!”

  “It wasn’t my fault. And you guys are blowing this way out of proportion.”

  “Okay, I believe you,” Halitov snapped. “As long as that’ll get us drinking.” He faced me. “Let’s check out Ms. Rainey there. Maybe we’ll catch another glimpse of her ass. Bitch, yeah. But she’s got a decent ass.” Halitov went to one of my lockers set into the bulkhead and retrieved glasses.

  “You staying?” I asked Paul in a tone that said I’d rather he not.

  But he didn’t back down. “Yeah, I am.” He tipped his head toward Halitov. “I could use a drink now.” The colonel’s son took a seat at my desk. “What’re we watching?”

  I frowned and told the computer to play Rainey’s story. After the familiar animation sequence hawking her company, one of the Roger Harrington’s busy docking bays appeared. Rainey stepped into camera view and began speaking, but her words were lost on me. Just seeing her brought it all back. We were walking together on that tarmac, death in front of us, at our sides, at our backs. Images of the attack played on the screen, accompanied by her solemn narration. No doubt she had been profoundly affected by what she had seen, and suddenly, there Halitov and I were, standing inside the tower and being interviewed by her prior to the attack.

  “Major, what can you tell us about your operation here thus far?” she asked.

  “We’ve secured this facility, and we are prepared to defend it against anything the Alliances throw at us. The work being accomplished here is a testament to the bravery and unselfish spirit of those fortunate enough to wear the uniform of the Colonial Wardens.”

  I winced over my prepared answer. It sounded even more jingoistic than I had originally thought.

  “Scott, you look fat, man,” Halitov said, then gulped down the rest of his vodka.

  “You look fatter,” Paul said, nursing his own drink. “I won’t mention that gray hair.”

  “Good,” said Halitov through a belch.

  After we answered a few more questions, the report switched to Rainey standing back in the bay. “The loss of life at Columbia Colony is incomprehensible,” she said. “This date will be etched forever in the hearts and minds of all colonial citizens.”

  “Oh, man, look at that! We can’t even see her ass,” groaned Halitov.

  Suddenly, Paul shushed him angrily.

  “What?” he asked.

  “I’m just trying to watch.” He turned to me. “Hey, Scott. You hear the numbers but they don’t register, you know? I didn’t realize it was that bad down there. I really didn’t.”

  Beauregard’s voice had cracked, and I suspected that his emotions were honest and barely touched by the vodka. He had let his guard down, and for once I appreciated that, though I couldn’t explain it. The report continued, and we watched Wardens load dozens of body bags into ATCs, watched civilians walking aimlessly down pockmarked streets lined by fires, watched a filthy, barefoot man running toward two soldiers with a limp child in his arms. I had seen images of war captured throughout history, and whether they were black-and-white or grainy color or holographic, they were all equally horrifying. We had become more efficient killers and experts at capturing every detail of war. Yet the threat of our own annihilation and the visceral nature of combat thrust directly into our own brains via the cerebro still hadn’t put an end to the killing. Maybe we would never stop gathering, never stop hunting. And sitting there, watching it all, made me
feel ashamed to be a human. Admittedly, my depression had been fueled by Vesbesky’s failure, by Jing’s covert activities, and by the mention of Dina’s death, but now reminders of the massacre opened a gaping hole in my heart, releasing too many hopes and dreams into the void.

  “Well, that made me feel…” Halitov trailed off, his tone indicating that he was about to make a bad joke. He lowered his voice. “That made me feel like another drink.”

  “You’re buying, we’re drinking,” said Paul, thrusting out his empty glass.

  I hadn’t even touched my vodka, and as I glanced at Paul, curious over his behavior, jealous over his youth, I remembered what he had told me about leaving the service. “So Paul, I assume you’ve notified your father that you don’t want to be an officer and are ready to resign from the Wardens.”

  He looked away. I hadn’t just struck a nerve; I had ripped it from his body and had stomped on it. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t now. It’s too late. And there are other people to think about.”

  “Fuckin’ patriot over here,” said Halitov. “Thought he was the rebel.”

  Paul glanced hard at me. “Why do you bring this up? Because you care? I doubt that.”

  “Back at South Point, you were the perfect cadet. We all hated you—and wanted to be you.”

  “So?”

  “So I guess it’s not easy to find out your hero no longer has his heart in it.”

  “Believe me, my heart is in this. And I was never your hero. I was your competition. Get it straight.”

  “But you guys had nothing on me,” said Halitov, waving his glass drunkenly. “I loved Dina. I should’ve had her. Not you guys. She wasted herself on you.”

  I had been meaning to talk to him about his recent confession, but certainly not in front of Paul, who may very well have loved Dina more than us.

  “You loved Dina?” Paul asked incredulously. “Nah. You just wanted her. Now Kristi, on the other hand, maybe you loved her. Which tells me we all have the same shitty luck with women.”

  I lifted a brow at Paul. “So there’s one kind of luck you can’t make.”

  “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try.”

  I gazed into my glass, my temper subsiding as I thought of Jing. “Yeah.”

  Halitov slapped a hip. “Well, I hate to be rude, but you two bore the shit out of me, so I’m leaving you the bottle, dismissing myself, and heading down to the officers’ club.” He stood, staggered over to the hatch, somehow keyed it open, then eyed my plant. “What’s with that?”

  “See you, Rooslin,” I said, urging him out.

  He wandered into the hall, where his MP had stood waiting. He draped an arm over the man. “Come on, Frankie. You and me are going to find some young midshipmen and blow the airlocks off this boat.”

  Once the hatch closed, Paul said, “I overheard my father talking about him. Something about securing an escape route at LockMar. What happened?”

  I paused, realized that I could be as tight-lipped as he was. “Just a little miscommunication.”

  “My father’s talking about having him contact some families to apologize.”

  I just sat there, absently studying my drink.

  “Well, I’ll let you get some rest.” Paul started for the hatch. “And Scott? I just want you to know that…”

  I didn’t look up. “What?”

  “That Dina made the right decision when she picked you. You’ve always been the real soldier. Not me.”

  “Hey, wait.”

  “What?”

  “Something wrong?”

  He looked more uncomfortable than he should. “I’m okay.”

  The hatch hissed shut after him. I glanced over at that ridiculous tree. Had the war finally chipped into his sanity? Or was he just becoming an eccentric like his father? I set down my glass, shut the lights, and stopped worrying about him, about the war, about everything except my sleep.

  About four hours later, the hatchcomm tore me from a deep slumber. I wanted to strangle the idiot who had decided to wake me, but it was my own damned fault. I should’ve told the guards that I didn’t want visitors.

  “Captain Katya Jing, sir?” the young MP said.

  I fumbled with the keypad and could barely wait for the hatch to open. Jing dragged herself inside, looking pale and covering a deep yawn. “Scott, I’m sorry.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked softly, even sympathetically.

  She raked fingers through her unkempt hair, then rubbed her eyes. “Too much. Just…too much.”

  “Come on,” I said, leading her to my gelrack.

  “You’re not going to argue?” she asked. “You’re not going to make me tell you where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing?”

  “Later. I am so tired.”

  “Me, too.” She quickly undressed and slid in beside me. I held her until both of us drifted off.

  Vanguard One’s skipper, the young Captain Linde-mann, cleared his voice, then spoke evenly over the shipwide comm: “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain. In one hour, twenty minutes we’ll be tawting out to the 70 Virginis B star system, where we’ll serve as a command and control vessel for the Third Fleet. Their mission is to destroy all enemy ships orbiting the moon Exeter as well as deploy ground forces to recover South Point Academy and the nearby Racinian ruins. Make no mistake. We’re entering a highly volatile zone, and I expect the very best from each and every one of you. Your department heads will brief you regarding the revised CDRs. That is all.”

  “Who’s your department head?” I asked Jing with a feigned look of innocence.

  She worked her head deeper into my shoulder as we just lay there, still blinking off our eight hours of blissful sleep. “You are.”

  “You’re not working for the colonel and Ms. Brooks?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I figured you were helping them resolve this security breach.”

  “Maybe I am, but I can’t tell you who I’m working for. It’s just too dangerous. You could be scanned, and that would ruin everything.”

  “Do you know how to fool a scan?” I asked, and I guess my tone was a little too probing.

  She jerked away. “I’m lying here with you, and you think I’m a traitor?”

  “I never said that.”

  “Someone set us up at Columbia. You think it was me? You think I sold out my entire company? Do you know how many of them I watched die? God, I thought you were the only one who really understood me.”

  “I’m sorry. I want to trust you. But you’re not helping me here.”

  She squeezed my wrist. Hard. “I told you. I can’t.”

  “Then what do you expect from me?”

  “A little faith.”

  “If you can’t be honest—”

  “This isn’t about honesty,” she said, whirling up to face me. “It’s about safety. Yours and mine. Okay? Just deal with it, because it won’t change.”

  I huffed, threw my head back on the pillow. “All right. I’m going to trust you.”

  “Don’t say it like a warning.”

  “I don’t know what to say anymore.”

  “Scott, I’ll tell you everything—when I can.” She dropped her head back onto my chest, but I rose abruptly and headed to the latrine. “Scott?”

  “I want to see my brother before we leave.”

  “Can I come?”

  “I’ll meet you back here.”

  She smirked and pulled the blanket tightly to her neck.

  By no small coincidence, Jarrett was being shipped back to Kennedy-Centauri, to a military hospital in Plymouth Colony, not far from where our father was living.

  “How do you know dad’s there?” I asked, standing near his bed and dressed in my black combat utilities.

  “Remember that news reporter who was running around LockMar, interviewing everyone? Think her name was Rainey? Dad said she contacted him.”

  I grinned over Ms. Elise Raine
y’s timeliness and efficiency, although I should remember that she routinely worked under tight deadlines. Still, she must have arrived on planet and had gone straight to work finding my father.

  “Did Dad say why he hasn’t answered my messages?”

  “No, but he did say he’s been having problems with the tablet. You know how he is. Probably stepped on it or something. So anyway, maybe your messages got lost. Bottom line is that he’s okay. He said he likes the place, and he can’t wait to see me.”

  “That’s great.”

  “No, it’s not.” His expression grew long. “They’re sending me there as a favor, but now I don’t want to go. I don’t want him to see me like this.”

  “C’mon, Jarrett. It’s Dad. He can handle it.”

  “No, he’ll cry. And he’ll make me cry.”

  “So what? Think about this—you and me, we could’ve spent our entire lives rotting away in those mines back home. We would’ve been there until the nu-mox got us. All right, so we’ve been messed up pretty badly, but the things we’ve seen and done…the people we’ve met…the people we’ve helped…we never would’ve had that chance if we had stayed home. And now that you’re going back, even though it’s not exactly home, you can reflect on this. You’ve done something extraordinary. And it means something. There are a lot of people who appreciate it—more than you know.”

  His voice quavered. “Yeah, I guess. And on the bright side, the family jewels are safe and sound.”

  “And I bet your girlfriend’s happy about that.”

  “She didn’t make it.”

  “I should’ve asked. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right. I fall in love with them, and usually they die. I’m oh for three so far. Maybe I’ll meet some nurse or something.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  “Hey, you know who came by to see me?”

  I shook my head.

  “Paul Beauregard. That was pretty surprising. I didn’t think he cared enough to come.”

  “What did he have to say?”

  “Not much. Apparently the Wardens are issuing me a new crimson star for being wounded in combat. Big deal. Otherwise, he just asked about where I was being shipped and when I was leaving. Then he wished me luck.”