Retreat Hell (34 page)

“Brigadier?”

Jasmine looked up to see Michael standing there, looking worried.  She had to fight down an insane urge to start giggling inanely, then gathered herself and stood upright.  He’d seen her distracted and started to worry ...

“Yes?”  She said.  “What’s happened now?”

“A courier boat has just entered the system,” Michael said.  “She sent a message requesting a secure laser link with you as soon as possible.”

“Understood,” Jasmine said.  Courier boats were the fastest ships in known space, but their range was short and they were almost defenceless.  “How long until she enters laser range?”

“Three hours,” Michael said.  “She's coming in hot.”

“Very hot,” Jasmine agreed.  She glanced at her wristcom.  It was 0123, but it felt like she’d kept herself awake for days.  “I’ll take it in my office.”

She turned to face the two guards.  “The prisoner is to remain here,” she said, flatly.  “You are to take every precaution in the book when dealing with him.  He is to remain cuffed firmly at all times.  His feeding will be done through IV tubes rather than though his mouth.  Whatever he says or does, he is not to be released at all without my permission.  If you take risks with him, he is likely to take advantage of your mistake and kill you.”

The guards looked nervous, which was understandable.  Jasmine knew they’d be embarrassed about it later, but better embarrassed than dead.  A Marine was also trained to take the slightest opportunity to escape, just as Jasmine herself had done on Corinthian. 
Rzeminski could not be permitted to escape her custody, particularly when she hadn't decided what to do with him.  Perhaps they could use him to put together a peace agreement of some kind.

And pigs will fly
, she thought, crossly.

She walked back to her office, then spent the next three hours reviewing the latest reports from the Zone.  Apart from some minor trembles, the defenders still seemed to be holding themselves together, despite losing their leader.  Of course, they also had nowhere to go, as far as anyone knew.  They could only fight or surrender.  And surrender didn't seem to be an option.

Jasmine sighed.  She’d had to assign companies of infantry from the CEF to serve as POW guards, despite the fact she needed them on the front lines.  Some local units treated prisoners reasonably well, others ... others were not much better than the rebels she’d worked with on Lakshmibai.  They’d wanted to slaughter all the prisoners and had to be prevented from doing so at gunpoint.  It wasn't much of an improvement from what the Lakshmibai rebels had wanted to do.

“Message packet downloading now,” her terminal said.  Jasmine rubbed her tired eyes as the compressed packet flowed into the buffer, then started to decrypt itself.  “Confirm ID.”

Jasmine pressed her palm against the terminal, allowing it to scan her ID. 

“Identity confirmed,” the terminal said.  “Message packet open.  Nine messages inside, opening now.”

The first message was a personal note from Colonel Stalker.  “Jasmine,” he said, “this message may reach you too late, despite the orders I’ve given the two courier boats.  We may well be at war with Wolfbane by the time you read this and you may already have been attacked.  There was an attack mounted on the Council Chambers ...”

Jasmine listened to the remainder of the message in stark disbelief.  She’d never been particularly fond of Gaby Cracker, although she’d understood and appreciated her achievement in converting the Marine tactical victory into a long-term success.  Hell, Thule needed someone like her to bring the war to an end.  But now she was wounded, perhaps dying ...

And the shooter had been Private Polk!

Jasmine had always hated to lose people under her command, but it was worse – far worse – when she had no idea what had really happened to them.  Private Polk had vanished on Lakshmibai and then ... there had never been any trace of him.  Jasmine had concluded, finally, that he'd been murdered by his captors and his body burned to ash.  But instead he’d been conditioned and turned into an assassin?  It wasn't just an assassination attempt, it was a deliberate slap in the face to the Commonwealth.  The coming war – and the Colonel seemed to hold out no hope that it could be averted – would be merciless.

She keyed her wristcom.  “Inform the local government that I need to meet with the First Speaker, at once,” she ordered.  “And then prepare a helicopter for me.”

Closing the channel, she forwarded the message packet to the remaining starships and her senior officers.  They had to know what was happening – and that war might be about to break out.  The closest Wolfbane-occupied star was bare hours away in Phase Space.  How long would it be, she wondered, before an enemy fleet arrived?  Or had their timing misfired, somehow?

She didn't dare, she knew, take that for granted.  All hell was about to break loose.

Instead, the social scientists saw a version of the locals that bore little relationship to the truth.  Instead of bloody murderers, they saw noble savages; instead of rapists, they saw quaint local customs; instead of child soldiers (forbidden by the Imperial Charter), they saw children fighting to defend their faith.  These delusions proved impossible to surmount, not least because the social scientists never even tried to come face-to-face with reality.

-
Professor Leo Caesius. 
War in a time of ‘Peace:’ The Empire’s Forgotten Military History.

Daniel heard the knocking and jerked awake, half-convinced that the rebels had finally burst into the mansion and intended to kill him.  It took him several moments to sort out the nightmare from reality and establish that he was safe and warm in his own bed, rather than anywhere else.  The last tendrils of the nightmare faded away as he sat upright and keyed the switch that opened the door.  Outside, one of his secretaries was waiting for him.

“First Speaker, there has been an urgent message from the spaceport,” she said.  “The CEF’s commander is on her way to speak with you.”

“At ... whatever time this is?”  Daniel asked.  He glanced at his watch and swore.  It was still earlier than he’d thought.  “What for?”

“She didn't say,” the secretary said.  “But it is apparently urgent.”

Daniel pulled himself to his feet and reached for a dressing gown.  “Have some very strong coffee prepared for us,” he ordered, as he pulled the dressing gown over his pyjamas.  He never quite dared sleep naked in the mansion, not when there was almost no privacy at all.  “And some stimulants, if the doctors will authorise them.”

The secretary looked doubtful.  Daniel sighed, inwardly.  He was, at least in theory, the most powerful man on the planet ... and he couldn't get stimulants without permission from his doctors.  Didn't they
know
he couldn’t afford to make decisions while he was half-asleep?  But they never listened to him, even when he told them he barely slept at nights.  There was just too much to think about ...

He pushed the self-pity aside as he stumbled into the small office and sat down on the comfortable chair.  There was a large pile of reports he had to read, reports he took a certain private pleasure in ignoring as long as possible.  Didn't anyone know how to think for themselves these days?  Of course they did, he answered himself crossly; they just feared the consequences of making a mistake.  It would cost them their jobs, their status and quite possibly their lives.

A door opened, revealing a maid wearing a traditional little black dress.  Daniel was too tired to notice the generous amount of cleavage she was showing, or her long shapely legs; his attention was firmly fixed on the jug of coffee.  She poured him a mug, bowing deeply enough to expose far more of herself than he cared to see, and placed it in front of him.  Daniel sipped it gratefully and waited, feeling the caffeine moving through his system.  It was about the only drug the doctors would allow him to use without ticking him off for it.

Another door opened, revealing Brigadier Jasmine Yamane.  She looked disgustingly alert, even though she’d probably been awake for hours.  Daniel rose to his feet, waved her to a chair facing his desk and poured her a mug of coffee.  She took it gratefully, her every motion that of a predator rather than one of the society ladies who would have fainted at the thought of being served by the First Speaker.

“There have been developments,” Jasmine said, without preamble.  She dropped a datachip on the desk.  “The short version of the story is that there has been an assassination attempt on Avalon – and that we may already be at war with Wolfbane.”

Daniel considered it, tiredly.  He knew next to nothing about interstellar power projection, but he
did
know that Thule was right next to the border.  Surely, the planet represented enough of a prize – and a threat – to be considered a primary target.  And yet no enemy starships had materialised in his skies.

“I see,” he said, finally.  “What do you want us to do?”

“Two things,” Jasmine said.  She crossed her legs as she leaned forward to meet his eyes.  “I want you to put the planet’s orbital defences on alert – and I want you to call a halt to the campaign in the Zone.”

“I see,” Daniel repeated.  “Is that all?”

A ghost of a smile crossed Jasmine’s sharp features.  “For the moment,” she said.  “I know it won't be easy.”

Daniel snorted, rudely. 
That
was an understatement.  There had been so much pressure in the Senate to do something about the Zone that it was unlikely they would understand, let alone accept it, if he ordered the troops to hold in place.  And yet, the cost of reducing the Zone had been staggering, in both men, material and buildings.  If the fighting continued at the same intensity, there would be nothing left but bloodstained rubble. 

But some of the Speakers are already planning its replacement
, he thought, slowly. 
They don’t care if the entire Zone is flattened
.

“No,” he said.  “It won't be easy.”

Jasmine sighed.  “We could be attacked here at any moment,” she said.  “If Wolfbane attacks, the last thing we need is so many units involved in a ground combat campaign that will make them very obvious targets.  We need to start thinking about dispersing our military units ...”

“Which will run the risk of allowing the insurgents to claim a victory,” Daniel pointed out, after a long moment.  “They’re already winning the propaganda war.”

“We could lose the war against Wolfbane if we allow too many of our units to be destroyed on the ground,” Jasmine pushed.  “And you may
need
the rebels, if the shit hits the fan.”

Daniel shook his head.  “There's no way we could work with them,” he said.  “The Senate would never allow it.”

He held up a hand.  “I’ll allow you to hold in place, for the moment,” he added.  “But you need to understand the political realities.  We cannot allow the insurgents time to recover, not now, not after all we’ve lost.  And they know it too.”

Jasmine sighed.  “At least put the orbital defences on alert,” she urged.  “You’ll need them if Wolfbane comes here.”

“I will,” Daniel said.  “And thank you.”

“Review the data,” Jasmine said, pointing to the datachip.  “I think we only have days, at best, before the war begins.”

“The
next
war,” Daniel corrected.

***

Mandy let out a sigh of heartfelt relief as
Sword
returned to normal space on the edge of the Thule System.  She’d feared the worst;
Sword
was an older ship, no matter how many improvements the Commonwealth Navy had worked into her systems.  It was vaguely possible that the fleet she’d detected had outrun her, if they had left at once.  But there were no emergency beacons on the edge of the system, squawking their alarm.

“Send the signal I prepared,” she ordered.  “And then take us back to the squadron, best possible speed.”

“Aye, Captain,” the communications officer said.

Mandy settled back in her command chair, silently reviewing the situation time and time again.  None of her conclusions had changed, no matter how much she poked and prodded at her thoughts.  Wolfbane was preparing to strike, she knew, and the blow could fall at any moment.  Everything was about to go pear-shaped.

She'd compressed everything they’d picked into a single signal, which she’d had beamed towards both the squadron and Thule.  Jasmine would know what was coming, she knew, although she was damned if she knew what Jasmine could do.  Maybe she’d have a better idea, Mandy hoped, but all
Mandy
had been able to devise was loading the CEF on its transports and abandoning Thule.  There was no way she could hold the world if the entire fleet she’d detected came calling.  Endlessly, while she waited, she waged the Commonwealth-Wolfbane War in her head.  But there were just too many possible opening moves for the enemy side.

“Captain,” the communications officer said sharply, “we’re picking up an emergency signal from the squadron.”

Mandy glanced down at her console ... and swore as she saw the summery.  An assassination attempt on Avalon, war threatened ... and, she knew, an entire enemy fleet within striking distance.  The war was almost certainly about to begin within the next few days.

“Order the squadron to form up on
Sword
, once we rendezvous with them,” she ordered.  She had to compose a new message, one for the courier boat.  “And alert me the moment something – anything – happens.”

There was a bleep from the console.  “Captain, a courier boat just entered the system,” the sensor officer said.  “It was on the same course as ourselves.  And it just sent a message into the system.”

Mandy gritted her teeth.  Somehow, she was sure that message was intended for the insurgents on Thule.  But, right now, there was nothing she could do about it.

***

“This is the situation,” Jasmine said, an hour after Mandy’s message had arrived
and she’d read her sealed orders.  They hadn't included anything she hadn’t expected, given the situation.  “An enemy fleet is within striking distance, an enemy message was beamed into the system and everything had suddenly become suspiciously quiet.”

She looked around the small office, meeting the eyes of her subordinates.  “I don't need to tell you, I think, what this might mean for us,” she continued.  “Thule is heavily defended, but she won't be able to stand off the enemy fleet alone.  Furthermore, we cannot risk heavy losses in starships ourselves.  This leaves us with a major problem.”

They all understood the implications.  The only thing preventing either the local government or the CEF from heavy use of KEWs to obliterate rebel formations was concerns about collateral damage.  Once the orbital defences fell – and Wolfbane took control of the planet’s high orbitals – any resistance on the surface could simply be destroyed from orbit.  If the CEF failed to disperse by then, it would be wiped out too.

That's why they lured us into the Zone
, Jasmine thought, in sudden cold realisation. 
They wanted us to mass the local units so they could be destroyed.  When the CEF arrived, they merely updated the plan to include our forces too.  And destroying the CEF in the opening moves of the war would be a grievous blow to Commonwealth morale.

“I was granted authority to withdraw, if necessary,” she said.  She dropped the datachip with the orders on the table, inviting her officers to examine them.  “I want you to start working out plans for withdrawing as much of the CEF as possible through the spaceport and up to the transports.  The equipment can be replaced, men cannot be.  Once they are on the transports, they are to withdraw towards Avalon.”

“The local government will have a fit,” Joe Buckley observed, mildly.  “They will claim they're being abandoned.”

And they'd be right,
Jasmine thought.

She slapped the table, loudly enough to catch their attention.  “Every previous war we have been involved in was localised,” she said.  “We fought to put down an insurgency, subvert a military dictatorship or relieve our comrades who were under siege.  There hasn't been a real interstellar war for over a thousand years ... and
that
interstellar war was on a very small scale.  The Empire simply built up a colossal fleet and overwhelmed its target.

“
This
is going to be different.  Wolfbane may be bigger than us, but it is hardly the size of the Empire.  The coming battle for Thule may determine the planet’s fate, yet it will not determine the victor of the war.  I will not waste resources fighting for Thule when they can be preserved to continue the fight elsewhere.  If the Colonel feels that I have made a mistake, I have no doubt I will hear about it.  Until then, my orders stand.”

She took a long breath.  “I do not want to inform the locals of our decision, if possible,” she admitted.  “We have been planning to rotate units back through the spaceport in any case.  This ... will merely be another such movement.”

“If they don’t attack,” Buckley offered, “you will be rather embarrassed.”

Jasmine smiled.  “I know,” she said.  “But does anyone here believe they
won’t
attack?”

There was no answer.

***

Silence fell over the Zone as the sun rose in the sky.

Gudrun slipped out of the hospital at daybreak and wandered through the streets, feeling almost as though she were in a dream. 
Something
had happened at the HQ, according to the rumours, although no two rumours agreed on what had actually taken place.  There had been gas and fire and helicopters and ... Gudrun had a terrible feeling that the CEF had mounted a mission which had succeeded alarmingly well. 

And it was quiet.  The endless shooting from the front lines had come to an end.  Insurgents thronged through the streets, looking around in bemusement.  There had been no surrender, no end to the war, just ... a sudden pause in the storm.  No one quite seemed to know what to think about it.  Gudrun looked at some of the children, their faces pale and terrified, and shivered.  Maybe the war would come to an end and the children would be safe, no matter where they went.  Or maybe the sudden silence was just a pause in the storm.