Virtues of War (33 page)

She’s sharper than I thought.

Breeze rose from her seat with an expression of vicious satisfaction, curling up next to him on the couch and draping her arms over his shoulders.

“Oh, my love, I’ve got that fat bastard over a barrel.”

“Oh?” He found that the smile came easily to his lips.

She nodded. “I’m going to give him a choice,” she said, “but either way I have my scapegoat.”

Someone was in the room with her. She could tell before she opened her eyes. There was breathing nearby, and the faint smell of sweat.

Slowly, carefully, she commanded each of her little fingers to move slightly, then repeated the test with her big toes. Her limbs were intact and functioning. The breathing was to her right, so she lifted her left hand just enough to test for restraints.

None. A single flutter of her left eye gave her how much light there was in the room.

“Don’t make any sudden moves, Lieutenant Emmes,” a soft, male voice said. “I know that you’re awake.”

She considered her options. Surprise was out, so perhaps guile would work. Blinking her eyes open in the harsh light, she turned her head. A man of middle years sat in a chair facing her, one leg crossed over the other and hands in his lap. He was dressed in a plain, green jumpsuit of the Astral Corps, and her eyes were instinctively drawn to the rank on his shoulders.

A pair of stars gleamed on each epaulette. His face was lean and unremarkable, the kind of face she wouldn’t have looked at twice in a crowd. Except that she
knew
this face.

“Congratulations, Brigadier Korolev.” Her voice croaked through a dry throat.

He nodded slightly in acknowledgement.

“I gather your return home hasn’t been as successful as some.”

She felt her heart sink anew. Was the entire universe against her? A lover who rejected her, a sister who betrayed her, a father who reviled her—and now the commander of her former regiment knew of her failure at life. She doubted Korolev had even known her name during the deployment, and this was not the way to gain notoriety.

She averted her eyes and took in her surroundings.

The room was small and featureless, with nothing but the chair he sat on and the cot she lay on for furniture. A windowless door was closed in the wall behind him. It was unusually warm, and she realized that the sweat she’d noticed was her own. Her clothes from the club were mostly intact over her body, although her shoes were long gone. Wiggling her toes, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Something funny, Emmes?”

She swung herself up into a sitting position, bringing her feet down to the smooth, warm floor.

“I just seem to have a habit of going to jail barefoot, sir.” No point in trying to hide anything from him, she knew.

“You seem to have a habit of starting fights in public places as well,” he noted, “and assaulting security officers. Or bouncers, anyway.”

She glanced up at him, feeling her cheeks reddening.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

His expression was neutral, but there was an intensity deep within his small eyes. She suddenly realized the odd nature of her situation. Why was she in a cell, with no one around except a very senior officer from the Astral Corps, who just
happened
to be the former commander of her former regiment?

She also realized that her head was clear. There were none of the after effects of alcohol or stun weapons, like last time. Nothing hurt, and her body responded easily to commands. Korolev continued to stare at her, his gaze momentarily going vacant before focusing on her once again.

“Sir, where am I?”

“You’re in a world of shit, Emmes,” he responded. “I’m here to figure out the best way to get you out of it.”

She could only guess at what charges were being levied against her by the Longreach police, and she cringed when she realized that her father had vouched for her first release, risking his own reputation. If it suffered because of her, that was another bridge she’d burned.

And yet… Korolev.

She tried to switch into a trooper mindset.

“Can you tell me the situation, sir?”

He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. “The situation has many levels, and they’re all dependent on each other. I need you to speak with absolute honesty. Otherwise we’ll make a mistake that will get people killed—including you, most likely.” He let that sink in, then added, “Will you speak with honesty?”

Katja knew there were things in her past of which she wasn’t proud. Things she’d hoped would never see the light of day, beyond her own tortured conscience.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s start simply.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Answer me this—what is the purpose of the State?”

She paused. She was in jail, her life was at stake, and he wanted to discuss high school philosophy? She started to think, but then went with her gut instinct.

“Uhh, to provide a safe environment for its citizens.”

“Safe in what way?”

“In every way, sir. Safe from attack, from disease, from starvation and ignorance.”

“And how does the State ensure that?”

She frowned, still not understanding the reasons behind his questioning. She dug into her memory for a nursery rhyme she and her classmates had often recited in primary school.

“Protectors, professors, providers, physicians… just like it’s always been, sir.”

He seemed to accept that. “But what makes up the State?” he pressed. “Who actually
provides
this safety?”

She wasn’t sure she understood the question. She glanced at the stars on his shoulders again.

“We do, sir. As protectors, anyway.”

“But who decides how we act?” His expression hadn’t shifted once during their exchange, but now his eyes narrowed slightly. “Who gives us our rules of engagement? Do the people give us those rules?”

The obvious answer was
yes
, since Terra was a democracy, but Korolev was after something else.

“Ultimately, sir, I’d say yes, but really the rules come from Parliament.” Korolev’s stare made her uncomfortable and she quickly added, “Which is elected by the people, of course.”

“So Parliament makes the rules?”

She considered her answer carefully, fighting down the fear that was growing in her gut. She was a prisoner, apparently in a military installation. It mattered how she answered these questions.

Korolev continued to watch her closely.

“I want you to answer honestly, Katja.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, Parliament makes the rules, and they’re held accountable every six years to the people.”

“Do you believe that the people actually have a say?”

“Of course I do.” Her fear suddenly shifted, and she wondered if she hadn’t stumbled upon a mutinous branch of the military. How could Korolev ask a question like that?

If he noticed her reaction he didn’t show it.

“And that’s how Parliament maintains its moral authority?” he continued. “Through the people?”

She felt herself flush. “That’s the only way, sir.”

“So if Parliament derives its mandate from the people, does it have unlimited power to act? Does Parliament have to follow the same rules as the people?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but the words died in her throat. That was a question never asked in school. He sat there, awaiting her response.

“I don’t know, sir.”

He nodded, leaning back to cross one leg over the other again. She stared at him as a flurry of thoughts raced through her mind. Was he testing her? Was he trying to trip her up?

“What’s the Astral Force rule on treatment of prisoners, Lieutenant?” His sudden change of tack caught her off guard. She mentally scrambled to recall the regulations.

“They’re to be treated humanely, sir.”

“Is shooting a prisoner in the genitals humane, Lieutenant?”

She went cold. She remembered pulling the trigger, at watching that Sirian rapist scream in agony. How could she think no one would ever find out?

“No, sir.”

“Were you the commander of that mission, at that time, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So as commander, were you above the rules? Did they not apply to you?”

She hadn’t thought about that moment for a long time. She’d been too preoccupied lately, thinking about that bastard Thomas Kane. Funny how remembering a bit of combat experience could put the rest of her existence into its petty perspective.

“As the commander, sir, the rules still applied to me.”

“And yet you broke them nonetheless.”

“Yes, sir.” Sudden images flashed into her mind—of her on trial, yet another example of a military gone amok.

“Why, Lieutenant?”

She looked up at him. “Sir?”

“Answer me honestly.” He leaned forward again. “Why did you break the rules, and shoot that prisoner?”

She thought back to the dirty cargo hold of the freighter. Her platoon had just been rescued by a pair of Astral Intelligence agents. Three Sirian soldiers lay dead behind her, one of them still with his trousers at his knees and penis erect. Before her, under guard of her troopers, knelt two Sirian civilians. One of them she knew nothing about, but the other, Thapa, she knew only too well.

He had murdered two innocent Terran sailors and beaten two others—including Jack Mallory—nearly to death. And when she was his prisoner, he’d planned on stringing her up in the center of town to be publicly gang raped.

“He was of no use to Astral Intelligence, sir,” she replied. “And cut off in enemy territory, we had no resources to spare for a prisoner.”

Korolev didn’t blink. “That’d be enough to get you cleared in a court-martial.” He opened a pouch on his belt and produced a standard-issue water bulb. He handed it to her.

She took it immediately and popped it open, suddenly realizing how thirsty she was. Instinct compelled her to sniff the contents, but otherwise she didn’t hesitate in gulping down mouthfuls of the cool, sweet liquid.

“That medal for valor we presented you, Lieutenant, was well-deserved.”

She lowered the water bulb, surprised at his latest shift.

“Thank you, sir.”

“What made you do it?”

Again she considered her answer. “I wanted to help EF 15 win the battle, sir.”

“You were in little more than an escape pod, your ship burning up beneath you, with the largest space battle in history raging above you. What in the worlds made you think you and eight other troopers could affect the outcome?”

She considered. “From what I could see, the Centauri battlecruiser was causing most of the damage to the EF. I had a trained and fully armed boarding party with me, and I didn’t think they’d see us coming.”

“Have you done a tour as a Line officer in one of the ships, Lieutenant?”

“No, sir. Just my time as officer of the watch in
Rapier
.”

“And yet you felt your ability to assess the fleet tactical situation was adequate to break the rules and endanger your troops?”

She tried to remember what she’d thought at the time, crowded into the strike pod with half the surviving crew of
Rapier
, while the other half ascended in the sister pod next to her. All she could recall was the feeling of emptiness, thinking that Thomas was dead, and a desire to fulfill his wishes that
Rapier
would make a difference in the battle.

“There wasn’t a lot of time to think,” she replied. “It seemed the best option in the moment.”

“You know you broke several major rules of engagement during that battle.”

“I guess I figured that it was war, sir. Rules of engagement can change quickly.”

“How many of your troopers died boarding that Centauri ship?”

She felt the chill of regret seep through her again.

“Four, sir.”

“Out of how many?”

“Eight.”

“And when the raid on Cerberus went to shit, why did you leave your position as advisor to Second Platoon and take command of Fifth?”

“Their commander was dead.”

“But it was just a withdrawal—why risk yourself and your boarding party?”

She could smell the metallic air of that damned Sirian planet, see the red dirt on her boots as she tore off her helmet and slammed Wei’s down in its place—switching helmets had been the fastest way to get onto Fifth Platoon’s comm network. Wei’s young body had already stopped leaking blood by the time she helped another trooper heave it aboard the drop ship, as Sirian aircraft strafed them again.

“It was the right thing to do,” she said. “They needed a commander.”

“And when you finally got them out—after I sacrificed two valuable assets to free you—how many were still alive?”

She didn’t even have to think. “Twenty-six, sir.”

“Out of how many?”

“Fifty-seven.”

“And then, during the escape, you shot a prisoner in the genitals.”

She dropped her head in her hands.

“Now tell me, Lieutenant Emmes, why you
really
did it.”

“Did what, sir?”

“Why did you shoot that prisoner?”

She felt the warm grip of the pistol in her hand. She heard his curses as she stood before him, his unbroken fury even after she shot the other prisoner dead. She heard his name for her in her ears again.

Whore.

She who had broken another rule of the Astral Force, and slept with her superior officer. Fallen in love with him. And been cast aside by him.

She remembered the sweet ecstasy of pulling the trigger, of watching him double over in unimaginable pain. Of emasculating and humiliating him, just as he’d humiliated her.

Because the fucking bastard deserved to die
.

“Because it was justice, sir.”

Korolev leaned back again. “So in other words, you break the rules when it’s the right thing to do.”

A glimmer of hope sparked in the blackness of her mind. “Yes, sir.”

“So as the commander of that mission, you were able to break the rules to do what was right.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me return to my earlier question. Does Parliament have to follow the same rules as the people?”

The glimmer of hope brightened into a dawn of understanding.