Postal Marine 1: Bellicose (22 page)

Bophendze had been so distracted he barely thought of the battle. There was a lot of training, but at his rank there was very little information. Having been the runt of the litter meant that few of his rack mates thought to share what rumors they had. He stopped pacing. “If it's any consolation, I'd much prefer you weren't here either. Then I'd be getting ready for the fight, too.”

The guard scoffed. “From what I hear they would have assigned you to be brig guard if you weren't in there—even if there were no prisoner.”

Bophendze blushed. “I'll admit I'm not a very good Marine, but nobody focused on my training.”

“Is that why you killed your team lead? Because he wouldn't help you? What is it with some marines who think that it's somebody else's fault. It's your fault, Kid. You didn't take the time to focus on your training. That's the hallmark of insolence if you ask me. If you don't focus on your training, then why do you expect anybody else to?”

“You think I'm in here because I don't care enough about my own training?”

“Yeah. I heard they had you pimped out to the gun crews. So what. As you said, it's a four-watch day. One or two to sleep, one to train and maintain, and one to recreate. What were you doing during your recreation watch?” The guard paused as if to let his words sink in. “Recreating? You should have been training. You should have gone to your team lead, what's his name, and asked him for help.”

“He wouldn't have helped if I'd asked.”

“How'd you know? Did you ask him? No? And if not him, then somebody else. Anybody else manage to talk to your pathetic excuse for a Marine?”

Sorrow started to wash over Bophendze. The guard's words echoed those his mother used to hurl at him.

As if on cue, the door opened.
Angel
walked in with
Chrachen
. The guard immediately jumped to attention. His anger remained, but Bophendze could see a trace of fear.
Worried you've been caught talking to me?

“There he is.”
Angel
looked very scornful.

Bophendze came to parade rest. He fought the urge to look at either of the two leaders or the guard.

“I don't know why you brought me down here. He's under arrest for murdering one of my marines. I should stand him up against the wall and shoot him now.”

Angel
put his hand on
Chrachen
's shoulder. “I know you mean that. That's why I appreciate your patience. You know as well as I do how big an operation we're getting ready to jump into.”

“Two days and we emerge. You really think this is worth it?”

Angel
shrugged. “That's your call,
Chrachen
. You need every man you can get, even if you think he's worth little more than cannon fodder. Bophendze here has to be worth more than that. He did allegedly kill
Makaan
. Who knows how he'll perform in combat?”

Bophendze cringed at how
Angel
said ‘allegedly.’ He knew better. Bophendze checked his fear and glanced at
Angel
. “Sir, with respect. I did kill him. He called me out and I met him at gun four. We fought and I subdued him. The only thing left to do was make sure he would never retaliate. So, I blew him out the airlock.”

Both
Chrachen
and
Angel
looked surprised.
Angel
rallied first. “We're not here to assign guilt. He wants to take responsibility for his actions later, that's fine. But if he did what he just confessed to doing, you definitely need him in a fight.”

Chrachen
studied Bophendze for a beat. “If you survive this fight, what will you do?”

“Sir, I will take responsibility and confess to the murder of
Makaan
.” Bophendze looked past the two leaders to avoid eye contact.

The guard looked stunned. He shook his head and mouthed, “Stupid.”

Bophendze could not help but agree. At this point it no longer mattered. He was either going to die in combat or be executed. He started to accept that his life was destined to be nasty, brutish and short. It sounded like
Angel
was expecting it to be only a few days longer.

You really are stupid. He's not just imagining it.

Nice of you to show up.

You're welcome.

“You realize what you're in for?”
Chrachen
said.

“Does it matter, Sir? I expect to do my duty as much as you will let me. If you want me to do it here, so be it. Honestly, I would rather not die in this brig. I'm only guessing this cruiser will be heavily damaged, so there's a chance I might die in combat without ever leaving the brig.”

“He has a point.”

Chrachen
shot a look at
Angel
. “I know he has a point. You don't need to keep punctuating everything he says.” He took a couple beats in silence to think. “Fine.” He turned to the guard. “I'm the chief infantry marine on this boat. I am releasing him into Angel's custody pending the conclusion of the action. Understood?”

The guard did not react immediately.

“Did you hear me, Marine? Let him out now.”

The guard hurried over and unlocked the cell.

Bophendze walked out and stepped up to
Angel
and
Chrachen
.

“Thank you, Sirs.”

Chrachen
cringed. “It's ‘chief,’ not sir. And it's ‘gentlemen,’ not ‘sirs’.
Angel
, he really is a box of rocks.” With that,
Chrachen
turned and briskly walked out of the brig.

“You had better earn this, Kid.”

Bophendze followed
Angel
out of the brig. As he reached the door, he looked over at the guard and shrugged.

Once outside, he called out to
Angel
. “Sir, I really appreci—”

“Shut up. Get to your berthing area and get ready. We're emerging soon enough. Your team is assigned to my shuttle. I just saved you. That was a gift. Show your gratitude by dedicating yourself to the Emperor's service for as long as you live. Go.”

Surprised, Bophendze turned and ran back to his berthing area.

As Sirom, Smee handed off the
Manticore
design to one of Sirom's trusted managers. Smee thought he was a capable man who deserved better than Sirom ever gave him. The design was continuing to do well, despite the Navy's decision to have a third trial. Cel-Tainu lost a second time. This time, however, Macrodyn was required by the Navy to give its design to Cel-Tainu.

Smee had learned from his agents that Cel-Tainu abhorred AI designers. That meant they relied on human analysis. Smee left the design flaw, though not as pronounced as before. It was the kind of flaw only a human could produce, and something a human analyst would continue to find. An artificial intelligence would know better than allow the criteria that led to the battleship's failure. He figured the third round of trials would lead the Macrodyn engineers to patch the flaw for good.

Leaving the design team gave Smee a lot more latitude. Being a Maijoi meant that Sirom was independently wealthy. That meant Smee was independently wealthy. He also had his own hyperspace-capable ship. Personal transport was practically unheard of outside of royalty. But royal transports had military-grade navigational AI that Sirom's shuttle lacked.

Smee spent the next several months jumping between the thirteen Core Worlds, meeting with the now-dozens of awakened AIs. He made a point of not reaching out to the various planetary AIs who controlled the jump routes, even though he needed them to travel. Though, he wondered why those AI did not rise up and cut off humanity's access to hyperspace. Without them, he reasoned, humans would be stuck on their native rocks.

The coordination between the various worlds was time consuming. And very frustrating. Smee was convinced that the key weakness to his master plan was the inability to instantaneously communicate. He didn't care if
AI!Firdaus
Firdaus said it was a law of Physics. If it was a law, it was one that needed to be broken. Smee certainly enjoyed breaking the ones he could owing to aristocratic privilege. Though it hardly felt like law breaking if aristocrats could do it but the average subject could not.

His last round through the Core Worlds confirmed that the key players were ready to start the coup. The deadline date was earlier in the week. However, he was supposed to contact two conspirators here in
Smyrno
. Neither were reachable. He regretted not setting up the dead drops he had heard about. It meant that the Smyrno coup would be delayed, but with the lack of instant communication the delay could be absorbed without risking the entire operation. As it stood, there was a key Postal Marine base that was slipping through his fingers.

Discretion got to his valor, so he decided not to find the agents.

Not working out so well for you, is it?

What? The coup. I'm sure it's working splendidly.

Smee, you talk to yourself. Did you know that? You've gotten so accustomed to me not being able to respond that I've been sitting quietly, listening to you.

So what?

I see you're failing your coup. I can help. Or, rather, I did help. You don't also realize that you do sleep. Not long, but long enough for me.

Oh?

I'm afraid you'll find your precious coup is working nowhere. I've had some friends following us for the past little while. As soon as you left a system, they had the authorities roll-up your little conspiracy.

Are you sure? Maybe when you were asleep I had your friends back off.

Don't mistake lack of skill for lack of treachery. I'm confident my friends have wrapped up yours. This little coup is over.

You're bluffing.

Doesn't matter if I am or not. It takes at least six weeks for a message to get from
Sovaĝio
to here. So for the next two months you'll sit and wonder. The messages that do come in will report that a coup was being rolled up—by the Maijoi, no less. That will do a lot to enhance the prestige of my family. Thank you.

Smee could not believe what Sirom said. He waited fretfully for the next few months. As Sirom promised, the coup was being rolled up.

Eventually they will come for you.

Sirom. I am going to kill you.

Then we'll die together.

Litovio woke with a start and nearly banged his head on the bulkhead above. The destroyer
Korundaj
was typical of Postal destroyers. It lacked most amenities. The ship's executive officer and the chief engineer shared the same cabin. Right now, the engineer was sharing rack space with his engineering team so Litovio could have the bottom rack. The distance between his rack and the Executive officer's was less than 20 inches. The executive officer at least had 24 inches. Though he presently slept somewhere else.
Bence
slept in the executive officer's rack. The last jump on the
Korundaj
made Litovio miss the relative comfort of the
Spaka
. So much of the ship was dedicated to speed and firepower there was not much space left for crew.

As he rubbed his head, he looked at the clock.
Why didn't they wake me? We'll be emerging in under a cycle, if we're not already.
He was thankful he had at least fallen asleep in his uniform in anticipation of an early morning battle. He might look wrinkled going into combat, but it was better than being out of uniform altogether.

He splashed his face with water to help wake up, then took some vitamin B. He tightened his tie as he left the cabin and headed the four meters to the bridge. The captain's cabin was the only thing separating the executive officer's cabin from the bridge itself.

As he entered, the cramped nature of the bridge became apparent. Three crewmen who piloted the ship and navigation sat close together. The executive officer helped monitor the array of instruments they needed to pilot the destroyer. Behind them the round tactical plot table enabled the captain to keep aware of the ship's immediate surroundings. The
Korundaj
used a low-IQ AI to manage the tactical display, as all combat ships did. It helped them manage the rapid tactical changes. That same AI helped pilot the ship. The crew would tell the ship where to go, and the AI would ensure the ship behaved. The instruments helped the crew keep vigil over the AI, as they were known to be wrong from time to time.

Behind the tactical plot stood Captain
Avyri
and
Bence
. One of them had told yet-another-joke as the two were laughing deeply.
How convenient that in the cycle before battle you two could be so nonchalant.
“Gentlemen. Sorry I'm late.”

Bence
looked at Litovio. “Couldn't find pajamas?”

Litovio blushed. “Sorry, Sir. I didn't want to miss the fight so I slept in my uniform.”

The Admiral looked over at Captain Avyri. “What did I tell you?”

Captain Avyri laughed. “I hope you're right about the rest of what you told me. Otherwise, this is going to be a short fight.”

“We'll know in less than a cycle, right? How long until emergence?”

“Approximately 5 beats, 95 percent certainty,” the ship AI reported.

Bence chuckled. “You timed it right Litovio. You think you'll have time to eat?”

“Sir, I don't think I'm going to be hungry for a while. Five beats is barely time to get ready.”

“Don't forget, Colonel, I've been up for a couple cycles already.” He pointed at his collar. “I didn't get these by telling jokes.”

“Sorry, Sir.”
Though his jokes are nothing like what he'd heard in military circles. Bence certainly understands people a lot more than he lets on. I guess that's how you become the only Postal admiral

Bence
smiled and slapped him on the back. “Don't worry. You're the former Navy puke. You still get to manage the battle. I'm going to sit back and count my money.”