Virtues of War (24 page)

Katja stepped into the dappled shade of the patio, slowly scanning from left to right. Her gaze went right past him, and he wondered why she didn’t take her sunglasses off in the shade. He stood up, drawing her attention with his movement. She approached.

She was beautiful, he suddenly realized. Not stunning like Soma, nor sensual like Breeze, but intelligent and unbreakable. He could feel a rush in his chest as she came near. His profound respect for her, he quickly told himself.

“Hello, Katja.”

He held out his hand, but she didn’t slow her pace, sliding her hand right under his and wrapping her arms around him, pressing her cheek into his chest. With a new rush he closed his arms around her small form, holding her tightly against him. Her hair smelled of gentle soaps mixed with the faint scent of her natural musk that he remembered well, and just a hint of… tequila?

“Hello, Thomas.” She turned her face to look at him through her dark sunglasses.

“Hello,” he repeated, unable to think of anything else to say.

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled back and sat down across from him. He followed suit, automatically taking a sip from his beer. He signaled for the waiter.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked. “The beer’s good on a hot day.”

She shook her head. “No. Just soda water.” She glanced up briefly at the waiter. “And a bowl of nacho chips, no salsa or anything.”

Thomas couldn’t help but smile. “A hard night, my dear?”

“Bite me.”

He laughed out loud. Civilian Katja was apparently quite a different person from military Katja.

“Sorry I got you out of bed so early.”

She tried to smile. “It’s okay. I need the fresh air. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment for too long.”

“Have you been posted to the base here in Longreach?”

“In a manner of speaking.” Her order arrived and she busied herself in gulping back some water and chewing on some dry chips. He realized his beer was nearly done and he ordered another.

“Oh?” he said.

She took another long sip of her water.

He finished his beer. “Katja?”

She removed her sunglasses to rub her eyes, and dropped them on the table. When she finally looked up at him, her large, dark, almond eyes were bloodshot, and had deep bags beneath them. It was startling, but her gaze went right through him, and he couldn’t look away.

“Thomas,” she said, “how did you survive, the first time you came home from combat?” There was a subtle sense of urgency in her voice.

He nodded, trying to think back nearly fifteen years to young Sublieutenant Kane’s return to Earth after the war in Sirius.

“I partied a lot, and played up being a local hero,” he replied, “but after a few weeks of debauchery I realized it was all a sham, and I got back out into space as quickly as I could.”

“I don’t feel much like a hero.”

He glanced around at their fellow patrons, at the blissfully ignorant civilians. “No, the State hasn’t portrayed it as a triumph this time. Probably because we got thumped pretty hard.”

“But I feel like I’m being punished by the Astral Force itself,” she said. “By our own people, and not the enemy.”

“How so?”

“I’m not allowed to return to my regiment,” she continued. “I got sent to a backwater posting for a month, and then got sent home from that. When I say something’s wrong, I just get given more drugs.”

An unpleasant thought struck him. “Have you been allowed to speak to your troop commander?”

“No. I’m on medical leave, so I have to report to a doctor. I probably shouldn’t even be speaking to you—they’ll say I’m trying to circumvent my rehab by appealing to a fellow combat veteran.”

If he’d been a poet, he might have said how he sensed a foul wind blowing… or at least a mean Breeze.

“Katja, that’s complete crap,” he growled. “No medical program should restrict who you can talk to. Forward me your doctor’s details, and I’ll look into this.”

She nodded, reaching out to give his hand a squeeze. “Thanks.”

His second beer arrived. She replaced her sunglasses and devoted herself for a minute to consuming dry chips and soda water.

“Doctors aside,” he asked, “how are you feeling?”

She shrugged, still munching. “Tired. Paranoid. Did you have nightmares when you first came home?”

“Sometimes,” he replied. “What are you feeling paranoid about?”

She tried to laugh, but it came out harshly. “Everything. People looking at me funny. People judging me. People deciding that I’m not worth anything.”

“Katja…” He took her hand with both of his.

She waved him to silence. “You don’t have to say anything.”

The words he really wanted to say he swallowed down. He clasped her hand in his and watched her suck back the last of her water. She tried to smile, but it faded with a slight movement of her head to the right.

“Thomas, I feel like I’m being followed. Look slowly over my shoulder—do you see anyone watching us?”

He lifted his gaze slowly, casually scanning the other patrons and the pedestrians in the street. Nothing caught his eye as unusual. Certainly there was no one in uniform, or of obvious military bearing.

“I don’t see anyone suspicious,” he said, “but I think I might know why you feel that way.”

“Why?”

“Our dear friend Commander Brisebois has been making trouble for me, and I’m guessing she’s doing the same for you. In her position she has fairly significant powers that enable her to meddle, and she’s been tasked with finding a scapegoat for the war.”

Her fingers tightened around his. “I will beat her to death with her own, severed arm.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been drawing her fire as best I can. I was hoping to keep her focused on me, but apparently she’s still had time to make your life difficult.”

She pulled her hand back. “You don’t need to look after me.”

“I know, but I’ve been hoping to try and force her to let the whole thing drop.” He briefly outlined his position directing the Dark Bomb research, and his efforts to improve his public profile. “It’s forcing her to back off, because she knows her success is tied in with mine. It doesn’t hurt that Captain Lincoln absolutely loves me, and holds me responsible for getting him on the news.”

She nodded. “But how does all that stop Breeze?”

“It makes it harder for her to blame me for anything questionable, and it also gives me power to influence her success. If she does anything to hurt you, I can retaliate.”

She leaned back in disgust. “I thought we’d just finished fighting a war.”

His own enthusiasm for the battle faded. This woman had a remarkable ability to make him feel like an honest soldier—how he’d felt when he was Jack Mallory’s age. He envied her black-and-white view of things, even though he knew it would only limit her in the real world.

“I don’t like it either, Katja, but unfortunately not all our enemies carry guns.”

“Still, that doesn’t mean we have to fight alone.” She motioned for the bill. “I know someone who has experience in this sort of thing, and she happens to be in town.”

“Who?” He grabbed the bill before she could reach for it.

“My sister, Merje,” Katja replied, throwing him a brief scowl. “It was her law firm that got that last Corps officer acquitted for his fuck-ups. I’m sure she’ll know a thing or two about keeping a fuck-up like you safe.”

“Thanks.” He crossed his arms. “Nice to know I’m cared for.”

“Astonishingly,” she said as she rose from her chair, “you are.”

He stood and followed her off the patio and toward the street. At the end of the block she quickly flagged down a cab and climbed in. He didn’t know if it was the food and water or the new sense of purpose, but all of a sudden he was seeing a glimpse of the old Katja. It was good to see her again.

He followed her into the cab.

“So does it get any easier?” she asked as the cab pulled quietly out into traffic.

“What, fighting with Breeze?”

“No.” She removed her sunglasses and turned toward him in her seat. “Coming home.” She still looked rough, but there was life in her eyes again. He considered his return from his tour as a platoon commander, and now this most recent return.

“Yeah, but it’s never easy.”

She took his hand again and smiled. “I think having someone who understands can make it easier.”

He smiled back, wondering if he’d ever understand her mercurial changes in mood. From “fuck-up” to “someone who understands” in the space of a city block.

It suddenly occurred to him that mistresses were an accepted fact in Terran high society. They weren’t to be flaunted, of course, but an occasional, discreet dalliance when the wife was off-planet… Her shapely calves were hard not to notice, nor the physical reaction to the sudden, air-conditioned chill of the cab.

He looked away, letting her hand drop.

No, no, no, he told himself. He was married to Soma, and in a fight for his professional future. The last thing he needed now was another mistake. His eyes flicked over her form one more time. A mistake, he reminded himself, no matter how much he wanted her.

* * *

Thomas couldn’t help but feel underdressed as he and Katja strode into the round, polished marble outer offices of the law firm Ryan, Ridley, and Day. High-collared private security guards watched them as they passed a steady stream of legal professionals in designer suits, moving through the rotunda between the various private corridors.

Katja, by contrast, strode right up to the nearest receptionist, military ID displayed.

“Lieutenant Emmes to see Merje Emmes, with a package.”

The receptionist took a single look at the ID and activated her earpiece. She repeated the message, word for word, responded after a moment, then invited Katja and Thomas to proceed down the second corridor on the left and look for the third door.

If the lavish workplace was any indication, Ryan, Ridley, and Day had done very well for themselves. Katja’s sister had only recently transferred here from the main office in North America. Although lawyers were hardly a “respected” trade in the modern sense of the word, they certainly managed to provide for their families better than most.

Katja gave a firm knock, then opened the door, and Thomas followed her through into the sunny, tidy space. Or at least, the floor was tidy. The desk that formed the centerpiece of the office was almost invisible under messy piles of hand-held readers, a personal smart board, and what looked like the remains of lunch. Behind the desk, rising with a big grin across her delicate face, was Merje.

She was slimmer than Thomas remembered from the military gala, dressed in a stylish blouse and dark skirt, her long, straight, blonde hair pushed back behind her shoulders. In her high heels she absolutely towered over her older sibling, but that didn’t stop her from reaching down to offer a big hug.

“Hey, Katty.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow at the nickname, and wondered if he’d ever have permission, or the courage, to use it himself. Katja, on the other hand, seemed unfazed.

“Hey Merry. I hope you weren’t busy.”

Merje waved dismissively at her desk, eyes already taking in Thomas from top to bottom.

“Never too busy for my favorite sis,” she said. “What brings you and your… friend by?”

Katja stepped back and, Thomas noted, put a hand on his elbow. “This is Lieutenant Commander Thomas Kane. He was my skipper in
Rapier
, and we both think that there’s a situation brewing in Astral internal politics. We could use your professional advice.”

Merje glided forward, extending her hand to Thomas. “Merje Emmes, master of law. Weren’t you at that gala a few months back?”

Thomas was intrigued at the subtle differences between the sisters. Their faces were a similar shape, although in place of Katja’s large, dark eyes Merje had fine, blue ones that held his gaze fearlessly.

“I was,” he acknowledged. “I saw your whole family being interviewed by Chuck Merriman.”

Merje rolled her eyes and turned away. “State propaganda at its best.” She sat down on the only clear spot on her desk, and motioned them toward the two chairs facing her. “At least that news hound hasn’t chased me for a follow-up interview. One of the benefits of being the black sheep in the family.”

Thomas liked her style. If Katja could display half this sass, she’d be unstoppable. He glanced at the seat next to him, where she sat with her knees together, leaning forward with earnestness.

“So, what kind of Astral trouble would bring you into my office?” Merje looked between them, crossed one long leg over the other, and gave him a piercing stare.

He briefly summarized the various twists and turns of the feud between him and Breeze, and the Fleet Marshall Investigation Breeze had been assigned to conduct. He left out a few rather intimate details, but painted what he felt was a realistic picture. Katja added in her own grievances, some of which Thomas had never known about before, but for the most part she let him describe the situation.

Merje asked few questions, mostly listening and taking notes on her smart board. It probably took an hour to lay out the gory details of the situation. At no time did Merje look either shocked or judgemental. Thomas guessed that she dealt with many cases involving far more devious characters. Finally she jotted some last notes and looked up from her desk.

“So, to summarize, we have an ambitious Astral officer, the delightful Thomas, locking horns with another officer, the villainous Breeze. My sweet sister wants nothing to do with any of this, but has been drawn in nonetheless because she’s so damn awesome and she keeps making Breeze look bad. At present it seems like Brisebois has the advantage, and you think she’s going to try to destroy one or both of you by damning you in the Fleet Marshall Investigation.”

Thomas looked at Katja. She was staring at the floor.

He nodded to Merje. “Pretty much.”

The lawyer tapped her pen against her chin. “I can probably help,” she said cautiously, “but with a Fleet Marshall Investigation in play, we’re going to have to tread carefully.”

“Why?”

“Brisebois has unusual powers because she’s been assigned to this inquiry, even more than what she’d already wield as a senior Intelligence officer,” she explained. “And Parliament doesn’t like to wait, so she’s going to be under pressure to deliver quickly. We have to move carefully, and fast.”