IronStar (65 page)

“My apologies, Lieutenant,
Corporal,” Kirrah said when the combatants had in part caught their breaths.
“We did not expect to find you here. We wish you no harm. But I am borrowing
your shuttle for a few hours. It’s the only solution. If you did not have the
perverse Greenbutt habit of sleeping next to your duty stations, you would not
be part of this at all.”

“Marines aren’t the only ones who
sleep by their workstations,” said a voice behind Kirrah. She whirled in time
to see the hatchway to the flight deck finish opening, and found herself
looking down the barrel of a J-1P sidearm like her own, held in the
white-knuckled but steady hands of Ensign Piersall.

Chapter 45 (Landing plus one
hundred thirty-nine): Show Time

“Courage is rightly esteemed the
first of human qualities, because it is the quality which guarantees all
others.” - Sir Winston Churchill,
op.cit
.

Kirrah took a deep breath. So did
Margaret.

“Margaret. We don’t want to hurt
anyone,” said Kirrah.

“That’s good. Neither do I, Ma’am.
But
I’ve
got the beamer. What the
hell
do you think you’re doing
on my shuttle?”

“Exactly what we’re authorized to
do, Margaret. We’re delivering the food that filthy Kruss demands, to keep it
from eating two children alive.”

“No, ma’am, then you’d be strapping
yourselves into the seats, not assaulting my Marines.”
Oops, perhaps we made
a bit more noise than we intended, damn those vid pickups
…

“That is not
all
we’re
doing, Margaret. We are going to extinguish the Kruss presence on my planet. We
were in a shooting war before you arrived, and in case you didn’t notice, the
Kruss just upped the ante by four hundred or so lives and a whole new level of
technology. They
nuked
my city, Margaret. These people don’t even have
rifles or aircraft, and the Kruss
nuked
them.” The Navy ensign shook her
head, but the gun didn’t waver. Peetha was now standing beside Kirrah in the
narrow aisle, both women about three meters from Ensign Piersall and her
leveled beamer.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I truly am. But
that’s for a Civilium court to rule on. I have my orders, ma’am.
No
use
of Regnum weapons on-planet.”

“I’m sorry too, Margaret. We cannot
turn aside on this. If it’s any consolation, we’re not going to use any of the
shuttle’s weapons.”

“That’s for damned… what are you
doing
?”

“I’m getting out of my combat
armor, Margaret. So is my friend Peetha. If I’m wrong, we’re both about to die.”
Under the pilot’s incredulous gaze, Kirrah and Peetha stripped to their
undersuits, laying their combat armor, including all their holstered weapons,
across adjacent seatbacks. Issthe came up to stand beside them, the soft fabric
of her robes rustling slightly as she moved in the silence. She raised one hand
in the air, palm forward, behind each of the women’s backs and closed her eyes.
Kirrah took a deep breath, paused a moment, and addressed the young pilot:

“Margaret, just please listen to
what I’m saying. This entire planet is going to be
partitioned
, unless
we can get the Kruss off it
now
. The Navy can’t do it.
I can
. If
it’s partitioned, the Kruss will get their own Navy base
here, in this
system
, behind Regnum space.” Kirrah searched the young woman’s face,
realized she wasn’t winning.

“Margaret, if you can’t trust our
intentions, then trust our courage.” Kirrah slowly reached for and detached her
suit’s wristcomp, and speaking in Standard for Margaret’s ears but with the
output in Talamae, said:

“Peetha, I want you to walk forward
until you are in contact with Margaret’s beamer. Do nothing to harm her, she is
our ally. She will either shoot you, or stand down. If she shoots you, then
I’ll do the same thing, and she will have to shoot me. Then this gentle woman
behind me. Go.”

“Yes, Warmaster.” Peetha took a
step. Margaret took a step backward into the flight deck, another, came up
against the lowered back of the pilot’s seat where she’d obviously been
sleeping.

“Are you all
crazy
?” she
hissed. “Stop! I’ve got a
gun!
You
have
to stop!” Peetha took
another slow, deliberate step forward.

Kirrah said, “Margaret, there are
two things they don’t teach you about guns at Naval Academy. One is about
power. Holding the gun only gives you the power to kill a person, not the power
to control them. Only the other person can give you that, and we aren’t.”
Peetha stopped directly in front of the thoroughly unsettled young Ensign. The
muzzle of the sidearm was pressing lightly against the Wrth’s solar plexus. She
seemed preternaturally calm.

“Ma’am! I’m
begging
you!
Don’t
make me shoot her!
” Margaret said, her voice becoming desperate.

Kirrah said, “That’s the second
thing, Margaret. They don’t teach
responsibility
at all well. They don’t
even have a proper
word
for it. I’m not
making
you shoot this
nice young woman. If you shoot her, it will be your choice alone. Do you not
agree? After all, as you pointed out a moment ago,
you’ve
got the
beamer.”

Kirrah allowed herself a moment of
sympathy for the Ensign. This definitely wasn’t going according to the woman’s
rules. Everyone stood, frozen, another few seconds.

Kirrah broke the silence. “There is
one thing they
do
teach, though, that you seem to have forgotten about
this particular weapon, Ensign.
Sanak!
” As Kirrah barked the Talamae
word meaning “strike”, Peetha’s left hand came up in a blur too fast for the
eye to follow, and slapped the hand beamer sharply away from Ensign Piersall’s
trigger finger. Before the weapon finished clattering to the deck, Peetha’s wiry
grip immobilized the surprised pilot’s wrists together in front of her. Kirrah
finished her statement:

“And that is its minimum safe
firing distance. The automatic proximity cutout makes it harmless inside sixty
centimeters, Margaret. Something I rediscovered to my chagrin, in the middle of
a fight with a swamp monster shortly after I landed. Doris, we’ll need another
pair of cuffs.”

“That was without any doubt the
ballsiest
piece of bluff I’ve ever seen in my entire career, Ms. Roehl. What are you planning
to do with
us
now?” asked Lieutenant Warden a minute later, while a
shackled and shivering Ensign Piersall was strapped into the seat in front of
him.

“That sort of depends, Marcus. I
assume you both knew about the beamer’s proximity limit. Why didn’t either you
or Adrianne warn Margaret?”
At least they have the good grace to look a
little embarrassed
, Kirrah noted, as her third captive turned in her seat
and glared back at the two Marines.

“Well, you were giving such an
interesting explanation of what you were up to, I just kind of wanted to hear
all
of it, before committing. Either way.”

“Thank you for that much trust,
Marcus. I’ll tell you our plan, then if you want to play along, you can - in
cuffs until I say otherwise, I’m not
that
stupid. Otherwise I’ll set you
down twenty klicks out on the plains, beamers nearby.

“Now here’s the plan….”

“Well, what do you think,
Corporal?” Lieutenant Warden asked three minutes later.

“
Told
you she was Greenbutt
material, Sir. Either get us all killed in the first five minutes, or we’ll
save the planet, keep the Kruss out of the whole system, and spend the rest of
our lives in the stockade. Either one’s better than where the situation’s
headed now. Sir.”

“Can’t say I disagree with your
analysis, Corporal. We seem to be powerless at the moment, anyway. You wanna
stay for the show, or get out and hike?”

“Sir, from the sound of it, some of
my skills just might come in pretty handy a bit later.”

Kirrah watched as some silent but
decisive signal passed between the two Marines.

“Suits me, Addie.” Marcus blinked
once and turned to Kirrah. “We must protest your illegal actions, Ma’am. But
since this is a Regnum Navy vessel, we elect to stay on board as long as
possible, in accordance with our duties.”

Kirrah blinked in turn, then the
light came on - he was saying ‘yes’ by saying something correct and legally
defensible.

Marcus continued, “Just one comment
about your plan, ma’am, if you’ve a mind to listen to an old barracks lawyer.”
At her encouraging nod, he continued. “Speaking theoretically, ma’am, if I were
to try such a thing, I’d want to have
really
good documentation. It
might make all the difference, especially if someone wanted to, you know, bend
things our way at some later point. Not that I’d expect any favors,” he added,
rolling his eyes.

“Thank you, both of you,” Kirrah
said gratefully. “We’ll have to put someone local down with Margaret, then. I
don’t want her having to walk back twenty kay on her own, out there.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Margaret said.
“You’re not putting me off my own shuttle, no way! Please, ma’am,” she added,
belatedly recognizing her present helpless position. Kirrah knelt beside the
handcuffed pilot, level with her eyes:

“Margaret, I’m willing to risk my
life. These are my people here, fighting for their world. But I can fly a
shuttle. We don’t need you at risk too. And as Adrianne pointed out, we could
all be killed five minutes in, or at any point in the entire operation. There’s
simply no reason to risk your life, too.”

“Frankly, ma’am, I’m less afraid of
eating a Spitball than I am of facing Admiral Dunning again, if I lose her
shuttle. I’ll stay.”

This part, I believe I’ll
actually enjoy
, Kirrah thought.
Documentation! What a great idea!
Re-suited,
she and Peetha stood out on the dark
not-grass
between the compromised
but silent shuttle and the Regnum embassy building. A dark figure approached
from the building, stopped.

“Is that Kirrah Roehl?” it
whispered.

“Ms. Einarson. Good evening. I
trust you’ve been getting good coverage of the damage these people took from
the Kruss mini-nuke?”

“Ms. Roehl, this is the biggest
story I’ve ever had the privilege of covering. I am only sorry it has been at
such cost to the indigs.” Kirrah revised her estimate of the reporter up a
notch. “You said there was some new activity I might be interested in?”

“Ms. Einarson, I am prepared at
this time to offer you a story under a MacKenzie Bond, twenty-four hour time
limit, personal risk is
high
. You must accept or reject this offer
immediately. Either way, you must accompany me into that shuttle for at least a
short ride.”

The reporter’s eyes grew large at
the mention of the centuries-old agreement between the press and the military.
Under a MacKenzie Bond, a selected reporter was allowed access to highly
sensitive information, in exchange for absolute military control over the
reporter’s movements, and over the story’s eventual publication. Risk
evaluation and time limit were the only required disclosures going in, and once
given the offer, a reporter could be held incommunicado for up to a week, just
for
knowing
about it, even if they declined. Stories obtained under a
MacKenzie Bond had the reputation of making reporters very famous, or very
dead, occasionally both.

Kirrah watched the RegNet woman’s
face in the darkness. She could almost read the inner arguments, see the point
at which natural curiosity and professional ambition overcame caution, and some
residual personal antipathy to Kirrah’s earlier hardball tactics. She watched
the decision rise to the surface.

“Damn! I accept!
Thank you
,
Ms. Roehl! Where does it start?”

“Right here,” Kirrah replied.
Peetha produced an undersuit and standard vacuum skin. “For security reasons,
you must now strip completely and change into
these
. Only your skin and
your certified recorder go past this point.”
In fact, all we need is your
recorder
, Kirrah thought to herself. With realistic fake imaging as easy to
create as typing, a reporter’s video equipment was loaded with anti-forgery
technology that made its images fully acceptable as legal evidence.
At least
it won’t take away another pair of hands to run the camera this way
…

“Main bus, On,” Doris said from the
engineering station a few minutes later.

“MPA, warm boot. LAN established,”
Kirrah replied from the pilot’s station on the left of the flight deck. “AI
active.”

“FB-1, initiation. FB-2.”

“Avionics green. Flight systems
diagnostics initiated.”

“FB-1, igniting.”

“Confirm FB-1 ignition, looks
green.”

“FB-2, igniting.”

“Two, green.”

“Propellant main
full
, aux
one and four
eight-eight
, aux two and three
full
, feed two and
three, pressure
green
.”

“Confirm feed two and three.”

“FB-2, standby.”

“FB-2, reading standby, one percent
power.”

“FB-1,
on-line
.”

 
“Flight systems diagnostics complete, green to
go. Guns?”
“Cold and locked. Flight systems
nominal
, power
nominal
. Any
time, Kirrah.” Survey Service Lieutenant Kirrah Roehl, for what would probably
be the last time in her life, took control of a Regnum vessel.

“Ms. Einarson, you may begin
recording.” In the front row seat behind the open cockpit door, the reporter
rose to her feet as far as the cuff around her ankle allowed, panned her camera
from a view of the shackled Marines forward to inside the flight deck. Margaret
Piersall was sitting cuffed and bound to one of the jump seats. Peetha stood
beside her, Kruss blade ready in one hand.