Hellfire (THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY) (62 page)

“Sir?” he asked her.

She knew he was questioning the unusualness of her order. Once military starships left a construction yard and filled with a crew, until the day they were decommissioned or destroyed, they were always monitored. On the bridge, in engineering, and in lifesupport, the three most vital parts of any vessel, there was always, always someone on duty in case of emergency. On civilian ships, the rules could be relaxed, but never on a military vessel.

In this case, though, damage control had to come first, and it had to include her whole crew.

“Company Bible rule number one, Private. Orders issued by Ship’s Captain Ia take precedence over all other orders, rules, and regulations. They may be questioned, but they still take precedence.” Rising from her seat, she crossed to the back door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have had a very long day, one made even longer by having to spend the last three hours cleaning up the mess Private Sung made. And now I need to go change into a Dress uniform since my day doesn’t end when we dock.

“I will explain what I can at the boardroom meeting, once I have freshened up. You have your orders, gentlemeioas. Dock the ship, secure it, and make your way to the boardroom.”

FEBRUARY 4, 2497 T.S.

Once again, she paused just inside the alcove to the boardroom. Paused, breathed slow and deep, and squared her shoulders. It was just past midnight, Terran Standard Mean Time, which
meant she had been up for over thirty hours, not counting her four-hour nap almost a day ago. Every time she let herself feel anything about this situation, icy-sick waves of dread kept sweeping through her body from skin to bones, leaving nausea in its wake. That nausea mixed badly with her exhaustion, leaving her drained with the fear that it could happen again.

But “fear is the mind-killer,” as the old saying goes. I accept my fear. I embrace my dread. I
know
what my worst-case scenarios are,
Ia reminded herself.
I have met one, been overwhelmed by it…and yet I survive. The universe—the rightful path in Time—survives. Duct-taped back together, but it still survives.

Reassured, she moved out of the alcove and onto the dais. And nearly stopped. Lieutenant Spyder wasn’t seated at the head table as expected. Instead, he stood in the aisle next to one of the front-row tier seats. He did so with his muscular arms folded across his lean chest, looking tired but still as tough and competent as any Marine she’d known.

Beside him, hands in his lap, thumbs cuffed together in restraints since his wrist was being held immobile in a cast while the bone-setting enzymes did their work, sat Private Sung. For a moment, Ia closed her eyes.
I did
not
expect Sung to be brought here…but I guess I’m a victim of my own exact wording. Every single crew member except for Doctor Mishka and Lieutenant Commander Helstead…which means I’m hoisted up into the air on my own exploding petard.

Brilliant. At least I know for sure that
some
of my crew are willing to obey my commands to the letter…and the timestreams say I can use this to my advantage.
She still couldn’t see very far, but that might have been from the fact that working with Belini to imprint Hollick’s mind and body with everything the original N’Keth knew had drained a lot of energy out of her.

Gathering her wits, Ia continued forward. Not to the table, but to the front row. Pointing at Sung, she swept her finger behind her. “
You
will take a seat at the officers’ table. You will sit there and be respectful of the authority that table represents while I explain to everyone who you are and what you have done.”

Not quite meeting her gaze, he nodded and rose. Spyder followed him, and stood behind him when Sung took one of the empty seats at the end. Moving around the other side of the
table, Ia stepped in front of her chair but did not sit down. To underscore the severity of the moment, Ia had donned her Dress Blacks and the full complement of her glittery, which required wearing a modified, knee-length version of her jacket. The only thing missing was the cap back in her quarters. She didn’t need it just yet.

She began with the facts.

“Just a few hours ago, during the battle against the Salik and Choya forces yesterday, Private Second Class Goré Sung willfully committed an act of Fatality Five: Disobeying a Direct Order, which resulted in an act of Fatality Thirteen: Friendly Fire. The evidence for these charges is absolute. Surveillance scanners pinpointed the offending laser turret as being under his control, and diagnostics prove his headset was fully functional the entire time that I gave repeating orders for all starboard gunners, including him, to cease fire at a specific time.

“Fatality,” she stated coldly, “is
exactly
the word for it. For whatever reason Private Sung disobeyed my direct, precognitively backed order, his willful act of disobedience resulted in the death of Private First Grade Joseph N’ablo N’Keth, from the impact of his Starstrike laser on an emerging projectile missile being launched from Private N’Keth’s turret.

“Make no mistake about this: The
original
Joseph N’keth is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead,” she repeated. “And with his death, Private Sung single-handedly destroyed an entire bloodline
necessary
to prevent the destruction of our entire galaxy three hundred years into the future.

“
That
is why I ordered everyone down our starboard flank to cease fire, because I
knew
the Salik shipyard of Station 5 would fall apart under the force of the incoming blossom bombs. I
knew
there was a chance that one of our weapons would damage the
Hardberger
’s hull if we kept firing. Private Sung is
personally
responsible for the end of the Human race—the end of
every
race in this galaxy—starting three centuries from now, defeated by an alien race so advanced, the
Greys
fled from them in terror.”

She turned to face him. Sung looked pale, sitting there with slumped shoulders and a crumpled air about him. No one spoke, though a few of his fellow crew members shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“I had one shot at getting it right. One path to carefully tend,
to make sure that every person, every moment, every chance encounter was
not
by chance but instead instigated by need and design, to create the one person capable of stopping the advance of that enemy race. And
you
shattered it, Private Sung. For whatever reason you
thought
you had, you shattered it.” She let that sink in, watching him blanch and crumple inward a little more, huddling awkwardly in his seat. “But by a twist of luck, and the grace of a
good
man of deep and abiding faith…I am able to repair most of the damage you made. Not all of it, but most.

“As a result of this twist, this
trompe l’oeil
I have just spent the last duty watch patching, testing, and altering so that the galaxy
will
survive…Private Sung
technically
will not be held responsible for the obliteration of this galaxy and all of its native residents.” Ia let the implicit threat that he would still be culpable somehow hang in the air for a moment. She continued, shifting her gaze to the others. “One of you has volunteered to take the dead man’s place. His body has been altered, his mind repatterned, his face carefully imprinted with all the things the original Joseph N’Keth was supposed to do,
without
my interference, other than making sure he was supposed to survive this last fight.

“Do not speculate among yourselves who that soldier was. Do not
ever
mention it outside this ship,” Ia added, jabbing her finger toward the starboard. Toward the Battle Platform holding them in dock. “You mention
any
of this, and Private N’Keth’s life will come unraveled, his part in being the great-plus-grandfather of the defense of this galaxy will be destroyed, and
you
will be held accountable for the destruction of every being, every star, and every planet, right alongside Sung.

“Make no mistake. The Zida”ya
are
coming to the Milky Way. They
will
tear apart everything we are and everything we know like uncaring locusts. In all the months you have served with me, you have
seen
the accuracy of my predictions, down to the very millisecond!” she reminded them, letting some of her frustration and anger color her voice. “Do not doubt me when I say I can see
tens
of thousands of years into the future, with
equal
levels of accuracy. I have had to
lie
to the Admiral-General herself about what has just happened because even
she
would be held accountable for all those deaths if she ever found out and let slip that she knew.

“If I could wipe
your
minds of all incriminating memories over the last half day, I
would
,” she warned the Damned. “But I am already in debt up to my eyeballs with the Feyori for pulling off this replacement trick, and that is a very
ugly
price to have to pay. Neither is it the
only
price.”

Snapping her fingers, she activated all the main screens stationed around the room, the one behind the head table, the ones on the sidewalls, and the one over the heads of the tier seats, allowing her fellow officers and the silent, somber Private Sung to see. Those screens started scrolling small icons of faces attached to a list of names. Some had military ranks, while many others had none. Some were very old and some were very young, though most seemed to be adults.

Not all of them were Human, either.

“Because of Private Sung’s willful disobedience, we have
not
left this cometary knot.
Not
left the Helix Nebula.
Not
flown off to our next port of call. We will not be able to leave here for at least another four hours, and we will need another
five
on top of that to effect repairs. Even if we commandeered one of the fleet tankers to top us off fully, and wasted fuel traveling OTL to get to our next time-sensitive fight, we will still be two hours
too late
.”

The names and faces continued to scroll, six columns wide, and moving so fast, it was hard to read even a single name. The list of Humans ended, replaced by Tlassians.

“I will be sending out precognitive directives before attending Sung’s tribunal, alerting those ships who
can
be spared for the coming fight, and giving them exact instructions on how to salvage everything that they can. Everything we ourselves cannot be there to do…but it still will not be quite enough.” She gestured at the monitors with each hand and explained their purpose. “What you see on the screens is a list of every single person who will die in the next two years because of our inability to be at that next battle. A list of every person that
they
would have saved, or begat, or influenced down through the next three hundred years would take seventeen hours at this speed to display.

“Private Sung is no longer responsible for the destruction of our entire galaxy. But he
is
directly responsible for the deaths of 720,593 people between now and the appearance of the Zida”ya at the galactic edge…and I know each and every one
of them.” Turning back to Sung, who swallowed and looked ready to retch, she said, “You will be given the list of these names to contemplate in your spare time. You are free to ignore them if you wish, but understand that
I
cannot.

“The only person worse than you on board this ship right now is me, Goré,” she stated quietly. “For I have slaughtered more than you, and
will
slaughter more, in the name of saving this galaxy. Saving as many lives as I safely can is my sole motivation, and the only reason why I
can
act, rather than step aside and allow this galaxy to end. When you fired against my orders, somehow I doubt your reasons were quite as noble as mine…and you have
added
to the screams of the people I cannot save. The loss of Private Smitt’s family and homeworld were
necessary
.

“
These
losses were not.”

He glanced up at her, a quick peek. Ia met his gaze steadily.

“Welcome to the hell that is my life, Private. You’re now a full-on, murderous monster, just like me.”

“…I’m sorry.” It was barely a murmur, but it was heartfelt.

“Sorry doesn’t save lives. But I hope your regret will drive you to do better.” Turning back once more to the others, she tipped her head at Sung. “Given the needs of this information to remain private to this crew and this ship, you are hereby
forbidden
to give him a hard time over it.”

Sung wasn’t the only one to lift his head, eyes wide in confusion and disbelief. Ia held up one hand. The sharp movement caused her medals to sway and
clink
faintly together.

“I know what you’re all thinking, and you are
wrong
. Having that list of names will be more punishment than anything
you
could do or say. Not to mention he is about to be caned for his crimes. He is lucky that this is
all
he will suffer.

“The sedated presence of the
trompe l’oeil
version of Joseph N’Keth on board this ship, currently tended by Mishka and Helstead, would normally be a violation of our standing orders to keep all non-Damned personnel away. I have arranged with the Admiral-General to avoid being charged with Grand High Treason for having Private N’Keth on board…whom we will
all
treat as the real Joseph N’Keth. Even the Admiral-General herself is never to know that he’s a fake, that the real one died this day.

“There is still the matter of Fatalities Five and Thirteen to
be handled,” she continued, moving along. “Private Sung, I will give you some temporally backed legal advice. When you are brought before the tribunal, do not deny either charge. Denial would only increase your punishment. As it is, whatever number of strokes the tribunal assigns to you will be doubled because you committed those two Fatalities during an officially acknowledged period of war…and doubled
again
, because you disobeyed the orders of a proved, registered military precognitive. Admit what you did, accept your corporal punishment, and understand that—murderous idiot or not—I still
need
you.