Death's Head (42 page)

A colonel sits behind a desk.

He’s wearing full uniform, complete with battle ribbons and an Obsidian Cross first class. Braid drips down his chest, because braid always does, and his eyes are as cold as glass. His mouth has a permanent twist, as if he can’t stand the stench of treason in that tiny room.

I’m the first to be tried.

The verdict passed on me will apply to all others. This is Death’s Head logic and legal precedent: I led the group that took the silverhead ship.

The colonel asks if I understand.

“Yes,” I say. “I understand perfectly.”

“Read the charge.”

The charge is simple. Although Octovian soldiers are expected to fight to the last, we obeyed an order from Colonel Nuevo to surrender. Because our duty to OctoV outweighed all other duties of obedience, this was an act of treason.

“How do you plead?”

“Guilty.”

The colonel looks up from his slab, his hand poised over whatever task he was actually doing while the charge was read out. Maybe he was expecting me to plead not guilty.

“Except Colonel Nuevo didn’t send the order.”

The officer for my defense leans forward. I will be allowed time to make a brief statement, but that comes later. Until then I’m to keep quiet.

Only the colonel has other ideas and it’s his courtroom, and he outranks everyone, so when the man decides to question me directly my defense officer sits back in his own chair and keeps his face carefully neutral.

“How do you know he didn’t?”

“Because I was there.”

The colonel glares at me. “You will address me as
sir.
”

“Why?”

It’s worth saying just to see the man’s face. Although to his credit, the colonel’s lecture on rank, respect, and hierarchy is delivered in a voice that is almost conversational. And when I say
interesting…
he carefully ignores the fact that I don’t add
sir
to the end of that, either.

“And where was this?”

“Our HQ at Ilseville.”

The man checks something on his slab. “You were delivering a message?”

“I was Colonel Nuevo’s ADC.”

He controls his surprise well. We can go on like this for another five minutes, maybe even half an hour, but I can’t see the point. So I decide to simplify things, because that’s how life should be lived.

“I sent that order.”

The courtroom is quiet. I have their total attention. Admittedly, the officer for the prosecution is almost purple with rage, but since the colonel is silent, he makes himself stay silent, too.

“It was part of a bigger plan.”

Officers glance at one another. The colonel checks his slab, and then checks it again. Whatever he’s hoping to find isn’t on there.

“You are under oath,” he reminds me.

My intention was to plead mercy for the Aux and accept all the responsibility myself. Only that stopped being an option when I discovered a judgment on me was a judgment on them. I need a stronger plan.

Putting my fist over my heart, in the old legion sign of respect, I sail dangerously close to the truth, with a few vital changes. “Having signed the order paper, Colonel Nuevo shot himself; Captain Mye followed his example…This left us to carry out his original orders.”

“Us?” the colonel demands.

“The Aux. Myself, Sergeant Neen, Corporal Shil, and Troopers Rachel and Franc, plus Trooper Maria, who was killed in combat.”

He checks his slab. “Your group has one other.”

“Haze,” I say. “Our intelligence officer.”

The colonel leans forward, interested despite himself. Prejudice is a wonderful thing. He’s got us down as a bunch of militia led by a renegade officer. Only we took down a silverhead ship and called in the U/Free. And militia groups don’t usually worry too much about gathering intelligence.

“You were a lieutenant,” he says. “Surrounded by majors and captains. Why would you know this plan?”

“I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t have sufficient security clearance.”

Punch the right buttons, use the right words, and even the wildest lies sound real. So real, in fact, that I’m beginning to believe them myself. Something that obviously shows in my face, because the colonel is talking intently to a major who sits just behind him.

“Who can confirm this?”

The entire court, all five officers, know what I’m going to say before I even open my mouth. Just as they know the judgment is no longer theirs.

SERGEANT HITO ARRIVES
to escort me from my cell. I’m not sure which irritates me more, trying to work out what to say to General Jaxx or the sergeant’s refusal to answer a single one of my questions.

In the five minutes it takes us to walk from the cell to the elevator, drop fifteen floors, and make our way to the general’s office, Hito keeps his silence. He doesn’t tell me to shut up or even shake his head; he simply ignores me right up to the point that he knocks on a heavy steel door.

“Enter…”

The command is loud enough to be heard clearly in the corridor.

A major I don’t recognize looks up, skims his gaze across me, and dismisses Sergeant Hito with a nod. The major is young and rather too aware of his own elegance and I see the sergeant’s lips tighten, but he simply salutes, spins on his heel, and leaves me standing in the outer office.

“What’s that?” demands the major, staring at the silver sack in my hand.

“A present for the general.”

“I’ll take it.”

“No you won’t.”

He stares at me, openmouthed at my insubordination. And finally I begin to enjoy myself for the first time in several days. The problem with being boss is there’s no one above you to insult.

“Give it to me.”

I shake my head.

So he does something very stupid indeed: He draws his gun. Now, I know he’s not going to shoot me because that would make General Jaxx very cross, and even this man isn’t that dumb. And there’s a basic law in combat: Never draw a weapon if you’re not prepared to use it.

“Hand it over,” he says, holding out his other hand.

I shake my head again.

“I’m warning you.”

Laughing isn’t my best move, nor is punching the man in the stomach when he tries to club me with his pistol, but having hit him once it seems a pity not to finish the move.

“That will do.” The voice is mild, but only a fool would miss the edge of steel that runs beneath it. “Hitting a senior officer is a serious offense.”

“Worse than treason?”

General Jaxx looks at me before turning his attention to the major. “You may go,” he tells the man. As we both watch, the man holsters his gun and limps from the outer office, being careful to salute the general before he leaves.

“Treason,” says the general, “is a nasty thing.”

“Yes,” I say. “The worst.”

“Apparently you killed a Death’s Head captain for treason.”

Which is how I know he’s questioned at least one other survivor before me.

“No one’s hurt,” says the general, as if reading my mind. “I talked briefly to one of the militia generals.”

He smiles, seeing my confusion. “The man disguised himself as a common soldier. Not impressive in my opinion. Although he’s very pleased with himself…Apparently you killed the captain for insulting OctoV. What did the man say?”

“That our beloved leader is a simple machine.”

“And what do you think?”

“Me?” My shrug is careless. “I refuse to believe it.”

“That he’s a machine?”

“That there’s anything simple about OctoV.”

The general laughs and pours himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a side table. He doesn’t offer me one. “Go on,” he says.

“Who knows if OctoV is a machine?” I say, pouring a glass of my own. “Or if it matters? I don’t do big questions. I do small ones.”

“Such as?”

“Can we take that hill? Yes, probably…Are the Aux good? Yes, we’re fucking excellent…Did we win at Ilseville? You bet we did…That’s my level. I leave the difficult stuff to people like you.”

General Jaxx is watching me, very carefully.

And that’s fine with me, because every minute he’s watching me is a minute he’s not ordering my execution. When he reaches the end of his whiskey, I pour him another, and the fact that he lets me get that close makes me feel a tiny bit more confident. Although it may just be that I’m covered by several hundred hidden weapons systems.

To check, I put down my own drink and say, “I’m going to put my hand in my jacket pocket. Is that okay?”

His smile answers my question about those defenses. Part of me wants to scan the room to see what he’s got, but I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Haze has suggested I limit my use of the kyp, and his reasons are as convincing as Paper Osamu’s. We’re deep enough in the shit as it is.

Reaching into my jacket, I find what I want. The folded scrap of paper is authentically filthy, crinkled with sweat, rain, and blood. “This is why we surrendered,” I say, putting it on the table between us.

The general unfolds it carefully, reads it once, and then reads it again. A click of his fingers brings an orderly running.

“Verify this,” he says.

We wait in silence until the corporal returns. He’s looking nervous, which is understandable in the circumstances. “The paper is authentic, the signature genuine. The writing is not Colonel Nuevo’s…”

“It’s mine.”

General Jaxx is surprised. “You can write?”

“My old lieutenant taught me.”

A wave dismisses the orderly. “So,” says the general. “You expect me to believe that Colonel Nuevo lost Ilseville intentionally…as part of a greater plan. But that you were the only officer he told?”

I nod.

The general laughs. “I imagine,” he says, “this is the point I’m meant to ask what’s in your pretty little silver sack.”

“Except you already know.”

He shakes his head. “Free technology,” he says. “Beyond our scanners.”

“Then how do you know it’s not a bomb?”

General Jaxx looks at me as if I’m an idiot. “Because Paper Osamu gave her word you’d be returned to me unharmed and unarmed. She also gave me a gun, which she insisted belongs to you.”

“It does.”

“Yes,” says the general. “That’s what the gun says.”

He nods at the sack in my hand. “We’ll be taking that bag later, as I’m sure our friend Colonel Madeleine will want to play.” He names the old woman who made me my new arm.

“How is she?”

“Same as she’s been for the last two hundred years. Annoying, but brilliant.” Cool eyes examine me. “She likes you. I doubt you realize how unusual that is.”

And I remember this man is supposed to like me, too. Someone said that months back, Sergeant Hito possibly. “Sir…the Free offered me asylum.”

I thought that would get his attention.

“And you refused?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Already knowing the penalty for surrender?” The man’s sigh is deep, almost irritated.

“I killed a three-braid.”

Blue eyes turn to watch me.

“Then I killed a seven, only I had to leave his head in a bucket, because it seemed stupid to bring it with me on the march. So there goes my proof.”

“Asylum and two dead braids…You know,” says the general, “I almost believe you.”

“But I did bring this.”

He takes my bag and winces at the stink as he loosens its drawstring. “Another one?” There’s no need for me to answer, because he’s already extracting the contents, holding the rotting skull by the braids.

“Shit,” he says. “Xantro…Tamdell?” The general looks puzzled. “Where did you get this?”

“Killed it, just before the U/Free arrived.”

“This is a ten-braid,” he says. “What was a high political doing aboard that ship?”

“Used to have eleven snakes, sir,” I tell the general. “One of them got torn off during the fight.”

“Duza?”

I nod, watching glee flood his eyes.

Politics is a weirdshit thing. The implications have escaped me, but I’ve got them now. The surrender at Ilseville hurts the general as much as it does us. Of course, he’s not actually dead like most of the drop, but he’s damaged in the eyes of OctoV, and damaged in the eyes of OctoV is not a good place to be.

“Let me get this clear. You killed General Duza?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Cut off her head.”

“
Sir,
” he says. “That’s
Yes, sir…Cut off her head, sir.
”

Then Jaxx is laughing loud enough to startle me. “Ah, Tveskoeg,” he says. “What will we do without you?”

Without me?

“You’ll find someone else…sir.”

“Indeed I will,” he says.

EPILOGUE