Into the Fire

by Elizabeth Moon

  “No, General; we would rather they were less suspicious than more. It’s still too light—” Though the light was dimming as the lower clouds thickened. A snowflake danced by the window, followed by a shower of sleet.

  “You expect them tonight.”

  “Yes, General. Why would they wait? They’ve come in under cloud cover and it’s almost full dark now; what better time to surprise us? How are things at the base?”

  “Trouble at Ordnay—fighting between the loyalists and the insurgents. We expect to be attacked here—” On a sprawling headquarters base that, like the government complex, had never been designed for defense in a serious war.

  Ky reminded herself not to give advice that hadn’t been asked for and ended the call. She called a meeting of the faculty and staff who had passed MacRobert’s deep screening—they’d run out of time to screen them all—and gave them a heads-up. The engineer group reported all vehicles fueled and ready to position; that would begin within the hour.

  She looked in on the cadet mess hall. No way—since the cadets had no implants—to give them four hours or so of good sleep before the action she expected this night. How long would it take the invaders to get all their equipment off the ships? How long to form up? She went back to the residence, changed into the base layers of her combat gear, and set her implant for four hours, with an override if her skullphone pinged earlier.

  —

  Ky’s skullphone pinged, and her implant informed her it was a half hour to midnight. Even as she rolled over and sat up, the red line’s light came on. “Commandant—Unit One. Cattle arriving at stockyard.”

  “Enough for that Academy banquet?”

  “Would think so. Send them on to processing?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Ky alerted her local commanders without using the main alarm system. Someone in the Academy was almost certainly on the conspiracist side and in contact with Kvannis. She went to the window: silence outside, and snowflakes dancing in the light from the room. In the distance, soft blurs of light; the forecast had predicted snowfall starting around midnight and becoming heavier toward the morning.

  The red com beside the bed buzzed louder. In rapid succession she fielded calls from General Molosay, the two small airfields, and Rafe. She dressed quickly, including the chameleon suit, and made sure she could reach its controls.

  Then she checked her weapons, ammunition, gas mask, and communications before heading for the Old Hall. Her combat helmet, pre-loaded with com codes, connected her to the Command Center at the base, to the Rector, and to her subordinate commanders; she ran through the checks to be sure all channels were live.

  The long passage between the residence and the Old Hall, dim under emergency lighting, lay before her, empty and silent, any sound from the Old Hall baffled by the angles in the passage. Another skullphone ping. “Cattle arriving at entrance…route Mixer three-two. Alt route Prom two-nine.” So advance patrols were using the Military Avenue route from the harbor to the government complex, just now passing 32nd Street, and another group was coming up Promenade but had reached only 29th. Almost time to call the alarm, because the city police should have noticed troops in the street by now. Ky checked the elapsed time and switched to the general alarm channel.

  “This is the Commandant. This is not a drill. Emergency Orders Local Zodiac; Emergency Orders Local Zodiac. All cadets, fatigue dress, with emergency kit, to the Old Hall immediately. Armsmaster and techs to the Armory. Faculty to the Old Hall, fatigue dress.”

  “Commandant—is this a drill?” Someone always asked. She didn’t recognize the rather squeaky voice.

  “This is not a drill. I expect all personnel to comply quickly and without panic.”

  “Commandant, Armsmaster Tilley reporting on station at Armory.”

  “We will need to arm those cadets who have qualified, Armsmaster.”

  “For a riot or something? What is the Zodiac suffix, Commandant?”

  She had not been certain of Tilley until MacRobert had cleared him late the previous afternoon. “There’s an attack on the city. Police report unauthorized troops in the city, including armored cars. Confirmation from the Joint Services Command base. Command believes it’s Kvannis and his allies.”

  “They came here?”

  “Apparently. As per Emergency Orders Local: issue helmets, vests, weapons, and ammunition; I’ll be sending the fourth-years first.”

  “Yes, Commandant.” He sounded solid enough, and nothing had shown up on MacRobert’s search of his records.

  She turned a corner in the passage. Ahead, only dim emergency lights showed, with the dark maw of the stairway to the dais of the Old Hall on the left and the closed door to the assembly level on the right. If someone had been pre-warned, if she herself was considered a danger, attack would come here. Ky slowed, slipped her pistol out, and thumbed the safety off. She eased to the corner, and around it. Before she reached the steps, she saw a darker shadow move; shots rang out—her own and the other’s. Ky felt a hard blow to the chest; a wave of heat washed over her as her armor reacted. Behind her another several rounds ricocheted off the stone walls of the corridor. She heard the clatter of a weapon hitting the stone steps, the sound of someone falling. A breath, another breath, as her implant reacted to the adrenaline burst, as no more shots were fired. Whoever it was hadn’t had the weapon on auto override.

  Voices from above…no one would miss the parallel to the situation with Marek. She walked forward, still poised to shoot again. The light on the stairs came on, revealing the fallen shooter: Colonel Bohannon, chair of the history department. Blood still oozed from the holes in his chest, staining his uniform, pooling on the floor. The exultation that had followed previous killings lasted only a moment, washed away by grief. She’d thought he was one of the loyalists.

  “Colonel Bohannon? What’s happened?” came from above. She wasn’t sure of the voice.

  “Stay back,” she said. “Don’t come this way; I’m armed and checking for more shooters.” They would know her voice. She heard someone’s shocked exclamation: “The Commandant!” but did not answer. She picked up Bohannon’s weapon, which turned out to be palm-locked to him. She took it anyway, and emerged at the top of the stairs to find Major Palnuss and Captain Ramos, standing well back and blocking the others’ approach to the stairs. Nobody had a weapon aimed at her, which proved only that they had good sense. Her gaze scanned the group: all the department chairs but Bohannon, the rest of the faculty, faces still expressing shock or concern.

  “What happened?” Colonel Shin asked.

  “Colonel Bohannon shot at me; I returned fire and killed him. I was hit, but my armor protected me.” She watched their reactions: shock, concern, and reasonably quick return to control.

  “He said he was going to look for you—that he was worried you might have run into trouble.”

  Ky didn’t say the obvious, that he had been the trouble. She needed them focused on the greater danger. “An enemy force has landed from two ships in the harbor, and is now beginning to move toward the government center. Those of you who’ve been specially briefed know what our plan is. For the rest, our orders have been modified by the Zodiac suffix; if you have not previously been briefed, remember that you are under the command of those who have. I’m assigning Major Palnuss to take over here, commanding the skeleton force to protect the youngest class; they have not yet had enough training to be of use in the field. As per the Orders, I will command the force that protects the government complex. Class advisers will stay with their classes.”

  “But they’re not—”

  “We have our orders,” Ky said. “Our more senior cadets are quite capable of doing what is required.” She looked at Palnuss. “Major, when the first-year class has arrived, you will take them to shelter and proceed to secure the Academy.”

  “Yes, Commandant.”

  She heard the clatter of boots in motion and turned to see the first cadets entering the Hall. As expected, the
se were the seniors, a half year away from graduation, lining up quickly in their usual formation.

  “As other faculty arrive, Major Palnuss, you will check their credentials and—ah, Major Osinery—”

  Osinery, white-faced, had come past Bohannon’s body on the way up the steps. “Commandant, there’s a bulletin—”

  “I’m sure. You will take over as my communications aide. Record and relay as I tell you. Major Palnuss, on the basis of investigations so far, ensure that persons we have discussed do not have access to weapons.”

  “Yes, Commandant.”

  She turned to the cadets ranked below her. “The capital is under attack; you know from recent drills what is expected of you: obey all orders, hold your fire until ordered to shoot. These orders may vary from what you drilled on; we have received supplemental instructions. Do what you’re told and things should go well.” The fourth-years looked back at her with resolution. “Major Massoudian, take your class to the Armory now.”

  “Yes, Commandant.”

  “Third-years—” They had moved forward in order as the fourth-years left; the second-years were filling in behind them. “Major Leonidze will take you to the Armory next. Your class and the fourth-years are an essential part of this defensive plan. I expect you will do as well as they do—there’ll be a prize for the best class.” A few grins among them now, quickly smothered. Ky looked beyond them to the second-years. They certainly looked better than before. Her implant ticked. “Major Leonidze, take your class to the Armory.” He gave the order and she waited until they were gone. She imagined the progress of the enemy, the last of them just coming onto the decks of the ships that had delivered them, climbing into the armored cars, and starting off to the north, to the government complex.

  “Second-years—” No grins here, but a sense of determination and unity the class had not had before. They wanted her approval now, wanted to succeed. “You will not be in the same action as the upper classes.” They didn’t like that; she could feel it. “You have a different assignment—because you have earned the right to it. You will be guarding important members of the government. You will be issued weapons and be transported to several different locations: Major Hemins will divide the class appropriately. You will be under the command of experienced combat veterans. We know there are criminal elements, allies of the conspirators seeking to take over the government. We know they will try to find and capture the President and other senior members of government. You must not let that happen.”

  “Shots fired,” came a voice on the police channel. “Shots fired, police falling back as ordered.”

  “Major Hemins, take your class to the Armory,” Ky said. She turned to the faculty, some of whom looked much less steady than others. “Major D’Albini, take your class to the bunker. Those whose names I call will report to Major Palnuss in the basement, with the first-years. You can assist there.” She read the list, skipping over Colonel Bohannon, and sent them on their way. “The rest of you received the supplementary orders; you know your assignments and your resources. Those with me—let’s go.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  DAY 44

  Outside, the snow fell more heavily; lights glowed through the falling snow, but visibility was limited. Another ping of her skullphone, this time from General Molosay’s staff at the base. “Air strike here; your guys IDed a ground force on the way—we’re ready. Good luck to you.”

  “Going now,” Ky said. Her combat helmet gave her its interpretation of what she looked at, mixing multiple bands to provide a faux-sharp image that wiggled uneasily as thicker and thinner strands of snow crossed it. Another screen gave her a view from one of the drones poised above the government complex: looking down through falling snow dizzied her for a moment. The former gardens now looked like textbook earthworks, as they should, with rows of hot dots on the infrared view that the oncoming troops should assume were cadets.

  “Commandant? We’re ready.” The command transport had pulled up beside her.

  “Right.” Ky accepted a hand up the step and into an interior that reminded her a little of the ships she’d commanded: the glowing screens, the banks of instruments. Osinery followed her, looking nervous, the light on her recorder blinking. Once inside, Ky had a view of the two columns of personnel carriers ahead of them. One had already split off to the north. The other moved east.

  “We’re on the tick,” said a familiar voice; she looked over and saw Corporal Inyatta grinning at her. “Column one is almost to the north end, well ahead of the attackers.” Seven of the survivors had argued their way onto this op, including the first three to escape plus Staff Sergeant Gossin, Sergeant Cosper, Corporal Lakhani, and Corporal Yamini.

  Ky switched channels and contacted Neese, the northern base. “Cattle entering processing. Light the fires.”

  She could hear nothing over the sound of the vehicle she was in, but imagined the big drones starting engines, the low whoomp-rumble rising to a high whine. Snow should muffle the sound; she hoped it would be enough.

  “First enemy troops past the Defense HQ…President’s Guard and police opening sporadic fire.” Just enough to convince the enemy the defenders were there, but confused. Ahead of her command car, personnel carriers full of third-year cadets, and troops borrowed from the base moved out. At the head of each line was a squad of combat engineers with the armored earthmovers they’d used to rearrange the formal gardens into something resembling military earthworks. “Twenty percent past Defense HQ, coming up on Government House. Permission to launch—”

  Here the attacking force would expect stiff resistance from the guard units normally stationed there.

  “Launch defensive weapons,” Ky said. On both sides of the government complex, the buildings one street away from the original rectangle housed offices, not residences. Now the robotic batteries implanted in slightly hardened positions spouted fire at the attackers, fire they returned. The attack force’s movement slowed a little but did not halt. More and more of them poured out of the constriction of the business district onto the wider avenues that ringed the government district.

  As expected, the attackers had personnel carriers, mounting both beam and missile racks, as well as dismounted troops in full battle gear. And with the first launch of missiles against the Presidential Palace, the battle was joined in earnest. As Ky had hoped, all those preparations in the great public gardens around the Palace had focused the enemy’s attention and convinced Kvannis—or whoever was commanding—that the defense plan hadn’t changed that much.

  But it had. The robotic batteries simulated fire by actual troops—irregular and, though effective, less than what the batteries could produce. More and more of the enemy moved into the area, focused on resistance from the supposed defenders, pouring heavy fire at the trenches. The heads of their columns were now even with the Palace. Would they see what awaited them, through the snow now blowing out of the north into their faces? The big earthmovers had traveled dark, pushed by the vehicles behind them. Even infrared sensing might not spot them.

  “In position,” Massoudian said finally. “Both routes blocked to the north. East still unsecured.”

  “Set,” Ky said, and contacted the air base again. She felt the mix of alertness and calm so familiar from space combat. Once an engagement began, once forces were committed, the stomach-clenching wait was over. She watched the screens, the icons marking movement. Just as the attacking infantry overran the trenches and climbed up to the level beyond, the first flight of drones arrived, raining cluster bombs down on what had been the broad central walk. Debris clouded the sensors. Attackers still mounted in their carriers spun their beam weapons, trying to hit the drones, but those were long gone, heading for the harbor and the ships that had brought the attackers. The concussion and flare of that explosion traveled through the snow; for an instant all movement seemed to stop.

  As if in answer, the snow thickened. Some of the attackers turned, tried to flee back across the broad avenu
es to the cover of buildings, but the cadets, stiffened by a few experienced troops, mowed them down. Belatedly, the personnel carriers turned their guns to the other side, but by then the smaller drones had locked in on them. Only two on this side, three on the other, were able to return fire before they blew, one after another, debris shattering windows across the street as effectively as their weapons.

  “Timing is everything,” Ky murmured. Several people in the car gave her a startled look. “Old military axiom,” she said.

  At both ends, attackers tried to get out of the now-obvious killzone. To the south, they ran into their own still-arriving troops; to the north they met the cadets and troops behind the earthmovers with their impervious blades.

  “Should’ve brought real artillery,” Major Oslik said.

  “Glad they didn’t,” Ky said. Some of the attackers now ran for the Presidential Palace, encountering the minefield that would’ve been obvious in daylight or clear moonlight. Compared with space battles, this one seemed faster in some ways, slower in others. In space, ships might have only a second or two to attack a target before it was out of range; here, stuck in almost two-dimensional space, troops could pound each other again and again. But the weirdest thing to Ky was the way all the debris fell onto the planet’s surface and stayed there, instead of expanding in a lethal sphere.

  She shoved that thought away. The surviving enemy had better armor and more experience than her cadets—they were still very dangerous, more effective one-to-one. And they weren’t about to surrender yet. They could endure a higher percentage of loss before breaking than her green troops.

  Those in the main plaza had regrouped and moved cautiously, using every bit of cover, toward Government House. Presumably they knew about the tunnel between that and the Palace. Not that it would do them much good. She called in another drone strike. This time they heard the drones coming and dove for the trenches on that side of the plaza, but the bombs targeted the trenches. The drones themselves went on south, to finish the attack on the two ships.