Mutiny (9 page)

"They just wiped out a news crew, probably while it was broadcasting," answered Cole. "Just how secret do you think they're keeping their allegiance to the Teroni Federation now?"

They took an airlift to the fifteenth floor. The door to the empty office was unlocked. They entered, closed the door, and sat down.

"What now?" asked Potter.

"Now we wait long enough for them to find out we're still alive and for our saviour to feed them that phony story about Cinnamon."

"Damn!" said Potter suddenly. "We left in such a hurry I forgot to grab my sonic rifle. I never thought of it until just now."

"If you're going to regret leaving something behind, regret the food."

"I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I—but we're going to be, and we're going to have to show our faces to get anything to eat."

"I could get it and bring it to you."

"You're not used to being on the run, are you?" said Cole. "They didn't trace
me
to the rental unit. They traced
you.
They know what you look like by now."

"But that's the media, not the Bug-Eyes."

"Do you really think the media isn't getting all the mileage they can out of this?" responded Cole. "By now your image will be on every newsdisk and holo channel on the planet."

"But they're Men!" protested Potter. "They wouldn't help the enemy!"

"When did a little thing like giving aid and comfort to the enemy ever stop the media?" answered Cole. "We'll stay up here until it's closing time, then go downstairs before we bump into the robot cleaning crew. Who knows what kind of alarm they're programmed to sound if they find someone in an office that's supposed to be for rent?"

An hour later the offices on the floor began emptying out. They waited until the last of them was closed and locked so that no one would see them leaving and report them, then took an airlift back down to the ground floor. Cole began looking for another airlift or even a staircase to the basement. The lobby was crowded, and he found himself the recipient of quite a few curious stares.

Then, suddenly, an alien voice filtered through a T-pack broke the silence.

"Don't move, Wilson Cole!" said the mechanical monotone. "Keep your hands in plain view."

The crowd parted, and a single Bortellite, armed with a Teroni pulse rifle, strode forward from the building's entrance.

"The others thought you were on your way to Cinnamon," he said, "but you've already escaped us once and tricked us again. I knew you would be in the least likely place of all—the middle of Pinocchio." He waved the rifle at the crowd. "I will kill anyone who tries to hinder me. This man is an escaped prisoner, and I am taking him away with me."

"The hell you are!" shouted a voice, and Cole heard the hum of a burner. He couldn't spot who had the laser pistol, but the Bortellite's rifle turned red-hot and he had to drop it. The second he did so he vanished beneath an outraged crowd of men and women who pummeled him mercilessly until what was left was hardly recognizable.

"I never did like Bug-Eyes," said a woman, dusting herself off. "Ugly creatures."

"If Bortel II wants a war, we'll give them one!" said another.

Then a tall man, the butt of his laser pistol visible where he had tucked it into his belt, walked up to Cole.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I don't know why the hell he thought you were Wilson Cole. Everyone knows Cole is stationed near the Core."

"I heard he'd taken a desk job on Deluros VIII," volunteered a woman.

"Well, wherever he is, he's sure as hell not on Rapunzel," said another woman. "I don't know where the Bortellite got that crazy idea."

"Someone get the cleanup crew here and get rid of this mess," said a middle-aged man, dabbing at his bloody knuckles with a white handkerchief. "We wouldn't want the police closing the building down for a sanitation violation."

"Let's break this up and go home before we attract any more undesirables," said a third woman. She turned to Cole. "You look like a stranger in town, sir. I'd be happy to give you a sample of Rapunzel hospitality and take you and your friend home for dinner."

"So would I," echoed a man, and soon almost everyone in the lobby was inviting Cole and Potter to their homes.

"I appreciate all your offers," said Cole at last. "But you've done enough already. I wouldn't want to get any of you in trouble—with your spouses," he added with a sardonic smile.

"Then come with me," said the first woman. "I haven't got a spouse."

"It could be very dangerous," Cole said seriously.

"What's a little danger compared to what a military officer, for example, faces every day?" she replied.

Cole shrugged. "Then I thank you, and we accept your invitation."

"I live in the city and take public transportation," she said. "You never know what kind of nasty passengers you might run into, and we want to make a good impression on our guest. Perhaps someone will volunteer to convey us to my place?"

She was overwhelmed with offers, chose one, and a moment later a small balding man pulled up and hovered right outside the entrance to the building. Cole, Potter, and the woman got in, and he raced off instantly.

It took them about five minutes to get to her building—she lived on the seventh floor—and a few minutes later Cole was enjoying his first meal since Potter's cabin.

"You two go to sleep," said the woman when they'd finished eating and adjourned to the parlor. She sat down by a window that overlooked the street. "I'll keep watch."

"You'll wake me the instant you see anything unusual—Bortellites or anything else?"

"I promise."

He turned to Potter. "You take the guest room. I'm sleeping here on the couch."

"There's room for both of you in there," said the woman.

"If anything happens, I can be ready a few seconds sooner if I sleep right here."

She shrugged. "Have it your way, Mr. Smith."

Cole looked at her for a long minute. "You're good people here on Rapunzel. If I were an officer in the Navy, I'd be goddamned proud to serve folks like you."

Potter went off to the bedroom. Cole was going to stay up and talk to the woman, but the accumulated weariness suddenly hit him.
I'll just close my eyes for minute, just to rest them
, he told himself.
Then we'll visit for a bit. It's the least I can do for a woman who's risking her life for me.

The next thing he knew she was gently shaking him awake. He glanced out the window. It was still dark.

He jumped to his feet. "Where are they?" he said. "Are they on this floor yet? How many did you see?"

She smiled. "Relax, Captain Cole. It's all over. In fact, I can even tell you my name now. It's Samantha."

"What's going on?" he asked, confused.

"It's all over the holos," she said. "The Navy attacked while you were asleep. They destroyed the Bortellites' warship, killed about a hundred of them on the mountain, and the rest have surrendered, both the ones on the mountain and those here in the city." She paused. "The only reason I woke you is that the Navy has announced that this entire operation has been for the sole purpose of rescuing you, so I contacted the authorities and told them to inform the Navy they can find you here." She smiled at him. "I thought it might make a better impression if you were awake when they arrived."

"Thank you."

"I suppose they'll be sending an honor guard for you," said Samantha.

"I'll just bet," muttered Cole.

Cole sat in the outer office, cooling his heels, for almost an hour. It was designed, he was sure, to make him nervous, but it served only to make him irritated.

He was aboard the
Xerxes,
the flagship of the Fleet, which had just arrived on the Rim fifteen hours ago. It was a hell of a vessel, he decided. It could easily have swallowed up half a dozen
Theodore Roosevelt
s, and it was immaculate. The weaponry was state-of-the-art, the appointments and furnishings were top-of-the-line, and somehow he knew that not a single speck of dirt would dare to take up residence on the
Xerxes.

He glanced at the wall. There was a holo of John Ramsey, considered the greatest Secretary of the Republic, plus smaller holos of the last five Admirals of the Fleet, the predecessors to the woman sitting in the office behind the closed door. He looked at the lieutenant sitting at the desk opposite him; the young man smiled.

"You got anything to read?" asked Cole.

"I am afraid not, Commander."

"Coffee?"

"You can get some in the mess hall after your meeting," he replied.

"I may be too weak from hunger and thirst to make it to the mess hall by then."

"Relax, Commander," said the lieutenant. "She'll see you soon." A light flashed on his desk. "In fact, she'll see you right now."

Cole stood up, waited for the door to iris, then stepped through into Fleet Admiral Susan Garcia's office. It would have been small by planetary standards, but for a spaceship it was immense, almost fifteen feet on a side, with a ceiling a full eight feet high. Seated behind a large desk made of alien hardwoods that floated just above the floor was the Admiral, a striking woman in her midforties, with coal black hair, piercing dark eyes, a firm mouth, and a rather pointed chin.

She stared at him coldly for a moment. "Have you injured your hand, Mr. Cole," she said, "or have you merely forgotten how to salute?"

He snapped off a salute.

"Well, Mr. Cole," said the Fleet Admiral, "you seem to have done it again."

"Ma'am?"

"Who told you that you could take a shuttlecraft and two officers from the
Theodore Roosevelt
and go to Rapunzel on your own authority?"

"I was the officer in command at the time, ma'am," answered Cole. "The Officer on Deck spotted a Bortellite warship approaching Rapunzel. Rapunzel is a Republic world, and Bortel II declaired its allegiance to the Teroni Federation within the past month. Under those circumstances, I felt it was my duty to find out what the Bortellites were doing on the planet."

"Did that include leaving the shuttle once you had landed, and confronting a force of two hundred of the enemy?"

"Aren't officers supposed to use their initiative?" asked Cole.

"Not really," she replied. "Somebody else usually has to pay for it."

"I'll keep that in mind in the future, ma'am."

"Oh, shut up, Mr. Cole!" she said irritably.

He stood at attention and waited for her to continue.

"Why did you alert the local press to your situation?" she said at last.

"There were enemy soldiers on their world. I thought they had the right to know."

"They knew there were Bortellites on Rapunzel long before you did, Mr. Cole." She glared at him, barely able to contain her anger. "You did it because you knew word would get out and that public pressure would become so great that the Navy would have to respond, didn't you?"

"Certainly not, ma'am," he said. "In wartime every man is expendable, and no man is irreplaceable."

"You lie with grace and style, Mr. Cole," she said. "Please don't insult my intelligence by continuing to do so."

"Ma'am, I assure you—"

"Stop it, Mr. Cole," she said. "You really and truly do not want me as an enemy. Now cut the crap and tell me, briefly and succinctly, why you did what you did."

"Yes, ma'am," said Cole. "I saw a potentially dangerous situation and I responded to it."

"Why didn't you alert Captain Fujiama?"

"He was asleep, ma'am."

"And you didn't think an enemy warship approaching a Republic planet was important enough to wake him?"

Cole stared at her for a moment, as if making up his mind how frank to be. Finally he spoke. "Ma'am, you and I both know that neither Captain Fujiama nor Commander Podok would have approved of risking the
Theodore Roosevelt
in such a situation. They would have pointed out that there could be ten more warships on the planet, just waiting for us. I knew what they'd say, so I took the shuttlecraft instead."

"And risked getting blown out of the ether by an infinitely more powerful ship."

"It wasn't much of a risk, ma'am," answered Cole. "The shuttle presented no threat to them, and they are far outnumbered here on the Rim. If they'd destroyed us, they could have counted on instant retaliation." She stared at him, an inscrutable expression on her face. "Well,
they
would have thought so, anyway," he amended.

"Go on, Mr. Cole."

"Once we touched down, I arranged safe passage away from the planet for Commander Forrice and Lieutenant Mboya, so no one was at risk except myself."

"They have been thoroughly debriefed, Mr. Cole, so I know exactly how you arranged their safe passage."

"Officers are taught to improvise in unique situations, ma'am."

"That's even more dangerous than using their initiative," she replied dryly. "Continue."

"After I escaped and made it to Pinocchio, I realized that the Bortellites had to be stopped before they accomplished their mission, so I arranged to let you know they were there."

"More to the point, you arranged to let tens of billions of Republic citizens know
you
were there and at risk, counting on the fact that they would insist we come to your rescue."

"I'm deeply moved that so many people care about me," said Cole. "But of course the Navy is not influenced by the emotional whims of the citizenry. I am certain that you attacked Rapunzel to prevent an enemy power from replenishing its vastly diminished energy resources."

She stared at him for another long moment. "Don't ever go into politics, Mr. Cole. I don't think the galaxy is ready for it."

"I have no interest in politics, ma'am," replied Cole. "My sole concern is doing whatever I can to help us defeat the Teroni Federation."

"That's probably true," said the Fleet Admiral. "And you know what? It still sounds like bullshit."

"I'm sorry you should think so, ma'am."

"Spare me your protests, Mr. Cole," she said. "You've managed to put the Navy on the spot, and not for the first time. It is my own belief that you were responsible, in large part, for my predecessor's early retirement." He was about to reply, but she held up a hand. "Don't say it, Mr. Cole." She signed deeply, opened a desk drawer, and pulled out a small box. "Have you any idea what's in this box?"

"No, ma'am, I haven't."

"I'll just bet," she said. "It's a Medal of Courage. Your fourth, I believe."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Cole. "I'm deeply honored."

"Personally, I'd much rather be demoting you than honoring you. But the press has got hold of this story, and the people need their heroes. So here I am, half a galaxy away from the
real
war, to give you a medal for what amounts to blatant insubordination. Whoever said war is hell lacked an appreciation of the ridiculous. War is lunacy." She put the box back in her drawer. "You will receive the medal at a public ceremony this afternoon. Try not to look
too
smug for the press."

"Where is the ceremony to be held?"

"On Rapunzel, of course. Captain Fujiama is also receiving a medal, and the entire crew of the
Theodore Roosevelt
will receive commendations." She paused. "Of course, neither the medal nor the commendations will mention the fact that they were forced into their heroic actions against their will, nor will it be noted that three warships were pulled away from strategically important positions to serve as backups to the
Roosevelt.
As for you, Commander, you'll remain on the
Xerxes
until it's time to land, and then you will go down on my personal shuttle."

"Under guard?" he asked wryly.

"In essence," she said seriously. "You will speak to no one, you will not mingle with the crowd before or after the ceremony, and you will memorize the acceptance speech that my staff has written for you. If you cause the Navy any embarrassment at all, I won't hesitate not only to demote you, but to put you in the brig. Look at my face and tell me if you think I'm kidding."

"I'm sure you're not, ma'am."

"You bet your troublemaking ass I'm not. Now get into your dress uniform and remember that as long as the press is around we're great friends."

"Easily done, ma'am."

"Oh, shut up, Mr. Cole," she said. "Neither of us has to pretend until this afternoon. You are dismissed."

He turned and left the Fleet Admiral's office. Only as he was taking the airlift to his temporary quarters did he remember that he had forgotten to salute.