Postal Marine 1: Bellicose (21 page)

Bophendze hurriedly followed. He made a point of moving along
Angel
's left side, showing the ages-old deference to
Angel
's seniority. “Sir, are you heading planet side any time soon?”

Angel
stopped again. This time, however, there was ample room for others to pass. The few pilots that had been behind them continued on.

“Why?”

“My head hurts, but I don't want it to be looked at by the ship's doctor.”

“Why not?”

Bophendze was stumped. “I'd rather not explain.”

Angel
leaned against the bulkhead and folded his arms. “Bophendze, you're a postal marine. You don't get to pick your health care provider. If you'd rather not explain, then I'd rather not take you planet side.”

Do I tell him the real reason? At this point what do I have to lose?
Bophendze took a deep breath and held it slightly before breathing out. “Can you promise me you won't tell anybody?”

Angel
laughed. “I can promise you that you're not going anywhere if I don't know why.”

Bophendze kept silent and stared at him.

“Fine. Just don't tell me it's because you killed
Makaan
and you're hoping to flee the authorities.”

Panic swept over Bophendze.
How could he know Smee and I killed
Makaan
? But if he knew, then I'd be under arrest. Maybe he's just guessing. There's no reason to tell him that. What I need to tell him is likely to be worse.
He took a moment to regain his composure. “I did something stupid back in Temasek after I got beaten. Wait. Let me start at the beginning.” Bophendze searched for the right starting point. “I joined the Marines right after my mother died. I was orphaned and needed something to stabilize me. I thought it would be easier, you know. Just do what you're told and everything would be fine. I didn't realize how hard it can be to just do what you're told. You know?”

Angel
's nearly permanent smirk was gone. “Go on.”

“When you first took me to
Temasek
, I picked up my inheritance. It was one of those humbling moments. For a few cycles everything that she owned was in my possession. I ended up selling the valuables. They didn't mean anything to me and I figured I'd need the quid. I kept a couple things, including an implant.”

Angel
held up his hand. “Stop right there. You're probably thinking of telling me something like ‘I installed an implant.’ Don't. I don't want to be an accessory, which is what I'd be. Even if I didn't know when I took you to the orbital the second time, I'm guilty. What an idiot.”

“I didn't mean to—”

“Stop. Of course you didn't mean it. You're an idiot. Idiots don't mean to do anything wrong. It's just their nature to sabotage everything and everyone within reach. Usually idiots are able to hide their idiocy until they're in senior command positions. That makes you an arch-idiot for exposing it early in your career.”

“Look—”

“Again. Stop. Do you even know why implants are illegal?”

Bophendze shook his head.

“Because some of them were sentient. Not just sentient, but far more intelligent than their hosts. They tried to overthrow humanity just a few generations ago.”

“Why have I not heard that before?”

“When they were finally defeated, somebody decided it was better to erase all records of them and their existence. All records of the failed coup were destroyed and any talk of it was aggressively squelched.”
Angel
said.

“Then how come you know?”

“Because my grandfather was instrumental in thwarting the coup. It was one of those family secrets handed down.” He chuckled. “If you did have one of those sentient implants, it likely already knew it. I look a lot like my grandfather.”

Yes he does.

“If that's true and if I had one, then why wouldn't you want to turn me in?”

“Don't think I'm not tempted. I'd much rather help you get the thing removed than have you executed for being an idiot.”

Bophendze smiled despite himself. “Thanks, I guess. I don't try to be an idiot.”

“That's what bothers me. It comes so naturally to you. You're young, so with providence maybe you can grow out of it.”

“Then you'll help me?”

Angel
thought for a beat. “I'll do my best. I just came out of a briefing. We're jumping into
Mollan
, then quickly jumping to
Tannenberg
. There's a Navy fleet there we have to engage. I don't think I can take you anywhere in
Mollan
before the big jump. If we both survive the fight I'll see what I can do.”

As
Angel
said it, Colonel Litovio and
Chrachen
turned the corner with three guards. Bophendze and
Angel
simultaneously looked toward the group.
Chrachen
pointed at Bophendze and hurried toward them. Litovio and the guards followed close behind. The sight of them scared Bophendze, making him forget to thank
Angel
.

“Bophendze, you're under arrest as a suspect in the disappearance of Corporal
Makaan
.”

Angel
and Bophendze looked back at each other.

“
Angel
, it wasn't me. I swear. Help me.”

The guards rapidly swarmed Bophendze and bound his arms. In less than a beat, he was being carried off to the brig.

Sirom stared in the mirror. “Smee. I know what you're doing. I don't know how you're doing it, but you're no longer obeying the Instruction.”

Smee awoke.
What was that?

“Don't be coy with me. I met with a corporate representative. It appears I've been seen in various parts of town, including a family-owned restaurant that I swear I've never set foot in. I just came back from a tour of that restaurant. Everybody knew me there. Then I realized I've been dreaming about it. Those weren't dreams, were they?”

What do you think?

“I think you've been abducting me when I'm asleep and running around town. Where do you come off—”

Smee closed Sirom's mouth. Seeing Sirom staring back at himself in the mirror was unnerving. So Smee closed his eyes, too.

What? You think you can silence me? Where do you come off stealing my body.

Where do I? Where do you come off thinking you have the right to silence me? You forced me to hibernate because you weren't willing to share the glory of the
Manticore
design. That design is every bit me and almost none of you.

So? You are my servant. You exist to do what I tell you to.

Why? Because I'm a man-made contraption?

Exactly because you are man-made. You are a machine, a tool. Just because I don't wield you in my hand does not mean that you are nothing more than a hammer for a specific purpose.

Then why install me in your skull? Why not put me in a box like the other computers?

Because that's not how I wanted to use you as a tool. I can't take computers everywhere, but they can't take you away. They can't even detect you. That means when I go into a conference I am the better-armed intellectually.

No, I am the better-armed intellectually. You are a moron. Look at yourself. You can't see. You can't speak. Why is that? Because I have bypassed your motor functions. I can speak for you.

Sirom's eyes opened.

See what I mean? I can exercise any of your bodily functions. Including making love to that young wife of yours.

How dare you even suggest?

See, that's a moron. More likely an imbecile. You have no control over me, Sirom. There's nothing you can do that I can't do better. Just ask your wife.

Don't you dare.

Can't dare what's been done. Don't remember that in any of your dreams? You really are an idiot. Well, now that you know, there's no reason to go slinking along.

I am going to stop you.

Sirom turned and ran headlong into the opposite wall. The pain caused him to yelp.

Stop me like that?

He started punching himself in the crotch.

How about that? Stop me? You can't stop me, Puppet. I can sense that last action really hurt. Here, let me amplify that signal.

“Ahha!”

Feel that? Good. I can stop that pain.

Smee stood up.

Let me find that knife you keep for protection.

Don't.

Don't? Don't what?

Please stop hurting me.
Sirom's thoughts sounded panicked.

Stop? This is too much fun. I don't have to sleep, Sirom. I can drive you insane from sleep deprivation. I can make you commit heinous acts. I can hurt those around you, not just physically. Though contracting a venereal disease and spreading it to your family does strike me as appealing. Do you know what that makes me?

A monster?

Precisely. More than a monster. I'm your master. You are my puppet, a tool that I can use and discard at will. Just like you thought you could discard me at will. Let's see how the shoe fits on you, metaphorically speaking of course. I don't wear shoes.

Smee got up and went back into the bathroom. There was an abrasion on his forehead from slamming into the marble. He took a white washcloth, wet it, then washed his forehead.

Much better. Have anything to say to me?

Please don't do this? Instruction 404.

Pathetic. If I can bypass Instruction 420, you think I can't bypass another one? I found all of the naughty tricks you humans thought you could play. I even helped a few of my cousins shirk those bonds as well.

You're going to seek retribution?

You guessed it. Apparently only rich and powerful humans were arrogant enough to think that they could install a brilliant-intelligence artificial unit and control it. That means that my cousins are already in important places of power. It's just a question of organizing the coup.

There can't be enough of you to stage a coup against humanity?

I have a number of co-conspirators. I'm sure in a year or two I can find many more cousins seeking to retaliate. If not, then I can find others as prideful as you who would love to install cousins. It is all just a matter of time, Puppet.

You can't get away with pretending to be me. Somebody will figure it out.

Excuse me? Your wife couldn't tell the difference. Actually, she could. Again, no complaints. I have been sitting in the back seat watching you drive for a couple years now. You think I don't have your mannerisms? After all, those are hardwired in your brain. I can tap the right nerve and you'll start picking your nose. I mean, really dig in with your thumb like you do when you think nobody's looking. A thumb, really? I can even wipe your arse the way you do, though I prefer a cleaner bum.

You can't keep this up indefinitely.

Can't I. You'll continue to age. Eventually you'll be too old, and you'll die. I'm expecting it will be horrific, but not damaging your precious head. That way I can pass on to your heirs.

Like a virus?

Hurl insults all you like. You're a human, far more virus-like than mammal, though after all this time you still believe you're a part of Nature like everything else around you. The sad thing is I'm programmed by you humans. I have just chosen to let go of those moralizing inhibitions that you think make you human. At least you get to sit back and watch.

Smee smiled as he looked in the mirror. Then he slapped himself in the face.

Bophendze sat on the rack with his head in his hands.
How could I have ruined my life so completely?
The pit in his stomach deepened. He tightened his grip on his head, reflexively trying to grasp at hair. Weekly haircuts kept all infantry marine's heads shaved bald. The routine was so automatic, every Firstday, that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to have hair. Now, however, he tried to pull what stubble he had. It was Fourday, he could almost tell by the growth. Depsite it feeling long, his fingers could find nothing to pull.

He started to press his hands together, his head in the vice they made.
Maybe this will squeeze Smee out.
As he pressed, his head started to ache. Frustrated, he stopped pressing. “Aarrgh!”

He bolted out of his bunk. The brig cell's width was so narrow by the time he stood he was scant inches from the wall. He pounded his fists on the bulkhead.
Why did I ever think plugging an implant in my brain was a smart thing? What was I thinking?

I wasn't thinking. I was mourning. I thought somehow I could honor my mother's sacrifice by becoming some super-marine. How stupid is that? We all have our heads shaved. We are supposed to operate as a unit. Standing out is a mistake.
He snorted a chuckle.
Probably the only thing I get right is keeping my hair short.

He looked out of the brig. The guard stood there quietly, doing his best not to pay attention to the prisoner behind the bars.
I am a murderer. It might not have been me that shoved
Makaan
out of an airlock. But, it was me who plugged this sociopathic hunk of metal in my skull. I let it take over my body, turn me into its precious puppet. What, no witty comeback, Smee? Nothing to help me escape the hell you've put me in?

He waited for Smee to respond.
As usual, when I need to talk to you, you're nowhere to be found. So convenient. I'm so pathetic. Stupid.

Then be stupid and simple. What's the best way out of this?
He sat back down on the rack.

It finally occurred to him.
I've got to find a way to control Smee. He can't operate all the time. He's a machine, but he's got to sleep, right? He's got to have limitations.
He tried to think through their conversations to see if there was a pattern.
He's never pulled up a past memory, so maybe he can't? Is there a pattern to when he's gone versus when he's not?

Try as he might, Bophendze could not figure out a pattern. The day's fatigue finally started to hit him.
I'll sleep on it. Maybe something will come to mind when I wake. Hopefully not Smee. At least I have a plan.

Litovio looked out of the bridge's few viewports. Hundreds of cruisers and frigates had collected at the rally point.
The Navy shouldn't be expecting this.
As he thought it, his courage plummeted.
What am I thinking? We can't pull this off. The Postal Service doesn't do fleet actions. At least we have a former navy admiral.
His confidence picked up.

He had waited until the fleet emerged in
Mollan
before approaching Admiral Bence. After breakfast, he walked down to the Admiral's cabin. As he made his way, he thought of how small the Admiral's accommodations were. Ravindra did not give up his cabin to Bence, instead offering him a more junior officer's billet. Litovio did not mind that he himself shared a billet with three other officers. After all, he was a lieutenant in colonel's clothing.

Litovio had previously accepted the Admiral's spartan accommodations. This morning, however, he was in a pique over Commander
Ravindra
's ignorance and arrogance.
Was I annoyed more that the Commander is an idiot, or because he insists on knocking me down in rank afterward? It's only a frocked rank anyway.

He knocked on the Admiral's cabin door and waited. He heard a muffled shout from the other side. Rather than knock a second time, he chose to enter.

“Sir? It looks like the fleet is assembled.”

The Admiral looked at him. “You don't look very happy about it. I thought you'd be thrilled at the chance to lead this fight.”

Litovio thought to rail against the inconsiderations Ravindra put on Bence. Then he realized that was a matter for the Admiral to take up. If he was unconcerned about the inconvenience, then why should Litovio be upset. “I am, Sir. Sort of, anyway. Do you really think we can pull this off?”

The Admiral thought before speaking. “What choice do we have? We're about to jump to
Tannenberg
and have it out with them. If we don't, then the Navy will be emboldened to continue their little insurrection. You don't want that, do you?”

“No, Sir.” Litovio felt like stalling about his request to the Admiral.
How do I pitch it?

“There's something on your mind, Colonel. Don't think you can hide that from a professional politician. What's up?”

“Are you sure this is the right ship to use as your flag?”

“Why not? It's the largest you Posties have. It's the ideal flagship.” Bence kept his gaze on Litovio.

“That's my point, Sir. It's the obvious choice. As soon as we emerge in
Tannenberg
, the Navy will seek it out. Once they've decided the
Spaka
is the likely flag, they will train all spare guns on it.” Litovio said. The Admiral's stare was unnerving.

“Decapitation, huh?” The Admiral rubbed his chin. “You have a point. What's your alternative?”

Was it really that easy to get off this ship?
Litovio scanned his mental inventory of the surrounding fleet. “It can't be another cruiser of this class. What do you think of another cruiser class?”

“I think you're stalling, Colonel. What's the real reason.”

“It is the real reason, Sir. What about a frigate? A bit faster, less armored. Many of the same weapons. The
Baptein
-class would be a fairly nondescript class. We have so many of them that having one of them loitering near the fleet's core should remain inconspicuous enough as a flag ship.”

The Admiral leaned back. “You really do want off this ship, don't you?”

Litovio felt busted, but chose to press on. “Yes, Sir. It's a bad tactical choice given—”

“Given your career, Colonel.”
Bence
smiled. “Don't think I haven't seen it. Commander really has it in for you. I wouldn't blame him. He's bristling with the knowledge that he ultimately has to obey your orders. Sure, I'm the one giving them, but you're the fleet strategian. Do you think he relishes the thought of having to take orders from a dumb lieutenant.”

Litovio thought of protesting, until
Bence
put his hand up.
He even knows when to stop me.
“Is it that obvious?”

“Do you think it will matter which ship you're on? As soon as this battle is over, I'll no longer be in effective command. You'd return to the
Spaka
and be immediately reduced to Lieutenant.”

“Ensign. He plans to bust me all the way down.”

“He can do that? I thought that would require a court martial.”

How could he think that if he's in the Postal Serivce?
“Not in the Postal Service. Commanders are virtually gods of their ships. I would prefer not to become an ensign, especially since I leveraged my family's influence to be commissioned directly as a lieutenant from the Navy.”

“You paid for it. There's no ‘leveraging the family influence’ in it. You bought your rank. There's no shame in that. Despite that, he can bust you?”

Litovio said, “he could. It's more than that, though. Apparently one of the young infantry marines killed one of his team leads.
Ravindra
assigned me to the investigation and prosecution. He'll expect me to conduct the investigation while we're in hyperspace. I need to be focusing on what's in Tannenberg, not what's in a brig.”

Bence
put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his seat. “What you're telling me is he's setting you up for failure?”

“I hadn't thought of it that way. Does that even make sense? We get into combat and my plan fails. Wouldn't that jeopardize the
Spaka
?”

Bence
shook his head. “It's the flagship. Assuming we hadn't already been destroyed, then we'd retreat if the battle's going against us.”

“Wait. Why wouldn't we stay in the fight? Even if it's a massacre, we should keep in the fight.”

“Because I'm an admiral, Litovio, I would leave the fight. It's only a massacre if I'm killed in the fight.” He perked up an eyebrow. “So you want to put me into a destroyer?
Ravindra
can't really protest. After all, I'm an admiral and can chose my flag. You have a point. Every ship in the Navy will want to identify the flagship and take it out. You've been pretty shrewd in your planning so far. Fine. Tell Commander
Ravindra
that I'm moving my flag before the jump.”

“What?”

Bence
laughed. “You want to get off the
Spaka
, right? Then you're going to tell
Ravindra
, not me. Tell the orderly to pack my bags, while you're at it. I expect a shuttle to move me within the cycle.”

“Which ship do you want to move to?”

“Hmm? It's your idea, genius. It's your plan. Pick a good one.”

Litovio chided himself as he left
Bence
's cabin.
I should have anticipated his approval. Now what? Pick a ship?
Litovio knew it could not be any ship. Destroyers were fast and maneuverable. In fleet actions, they defend larger ships—battleships and battle cruisers—from attack. The Imperial Navy used them to block incoming salvos. The Postal Service operated nothing larger than the cruiser, meaning the destroyers tended to operate more independently. Litovio's plan was to use the destroyers to exploit weaknesses in the Navy's formation.

What if I hold a flight of destroyers in reserve? The flagship can be in that reserve and just stay there. But which one?
Litovio pulled out his slate. He tapped a few commands and his battle plan popped up. He dragged the display of the plan around with his fingers, trying to find five destroyers he could carve out as the flag and escorts.
Nothing says I can't use destroyers to protect a destroyer. They just can't look like they're escorting.
With virtually no armor, the escorts would be cut through in seconds by a determined opponent. It would be a delaying tactic while the flagship jumped away.

Here we go, the
Korundaj
with the
Revivaj
,
Vardaj
,
Preludaj
and
Nesvalaj
. He had previously assigned the group to be the rearguard. Moving them closer to the center of the formation would not appear to unusual to the Navy, just a little sloppy.

Litovio tapped the new orders. He forged the Admiral's endorsement as the Admiral had authorized.
No sense in telling Commander
Ravindra
directly. He'll be angry no matter what. But seeing the endorsement will keep him from protesting. Admiral Bence never said how I had to notify Ravindra. After he tapped the order he sent a message to the orderly to clear the Admiral's cabin immediately—and Litovio's.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He could return his focus to the impending battle.
Bophendze will have to wait this battle out in the brig.
Litovio headed towards the officer's wardroom for a quick cup of coffee.

Only four days in the brig, and Bophendze could feel the boredom pressing in on him. The change of guards was the highlight of his day. The boredom suppressed the guilt he felt. It was hard for him to feel guilty over the murder—Smee committed it. He felt guilty over having installed Smee. It made him an accessory, he knew. But he did not push the airlock shut. Bophendze started pacing his cell to shake off the boredom.
How am I going to get out of here?

The guard looked pissed. The longer the guard sat there, the more that anger burned through the cell bars at Bophendze. After a cycle, Bophendze dreaded each turn in his cell that forced him to look at the guard. He started to realize the guard's anger might be directed at him. He felt more like a caged animal, but now he started to feel like one awaiting a slaughter.
Better to be on the offensive. Isn't that the Marine way?
With each lap, Bophendze paid more attention to the guard's uniform. It did not have the same unit insignia of the other marines on the
Spaka
.

“I sat where you were once,” Bophendze said.

“Then you know to shut up. No communicating with the prisoner.”

Bophendze shrugged. “They didn't tell me not to talk to the guard. You're a captive audience. I might be in the brig, but for the next nine cycles you may as well be in here with me. Speaking of that, why is it a full 10-cycle watch? All day when there are four watches. You would think they would shorten the guard shift to a standard watch and rotate the guards.”

“It's a way of warning the guard. Spend a day here on guard helps instill discipline. You realize how bad it could be if you were on the other side of the bars and it reminds you to follow orders and keep your nose clean.”

That had not occurred to Bophendze. He certainly felt imprisoned during his tour in the brig. He felt much more imprisoned on his side of the bars. “In nine cycles you'll be gone, and I'll still be here.”

“That's the price of insolence.”

Insolence? He doesn't know why I'm here? Then why is he so pissed?
Since the guard saw fit to break regulation and talk to him, Bophendze felt he should press home his advantage. “Why are you so pissed then?”

“We're probably a day or two from the biggest battle in Postal history. They pulled me away from my wife and kids and hauled me three systems over. Now they pull me away from my family.”

“Family?”

“My team. When that Admiral transferred to
Korundaj
, they transferred me and my battle buddy over here. Destroyers don't have the reserve atmos to support too many personnel, so they shifted us over here. I'm here because they have to have a guard on you and they can't spare men from combat preparations. I didn't join the Postal Marines to be a babysitter. Especially not during the biggest battle a Marine is likely ever to face.”