Storm Force: Book Three of the Last Legion Series (25 page)

One missile, later to be hotly argued as to whose, closed on the rearmost cruiser, and exploded. Another blew up right behind it, and oxygen-fed flames from the cruiser jetted into space for an instant, were cut off. A secondary explosion shook the cruiser, and it canted forward, pinwheeling in its trajectory.

A missile almost got one of the
aksai
, blew up nearby.

Dill’s canopy showed a bull’s-eye. He was targeted by somebody’s Target-Acquisition devices.

“Nah, nah, you’ve not got me,” he said, fingers touching the ECM panel.

The missile from the cruiser, almost as big as Dill’s attack ship, swung in confusion, then, in obedience to basic programming, exploded harmlessly.

“All Vann Elements,” Ho ordered. “Break contact and withdraw.”

“Aw,” Dill muttered. “Just one more shot and that cruiser’s Ben Dill Sandwich Spread, dammit!” But he obeyed.

Alikhan ripple-launched his remaining missiles as he made rapid course changes toward the
velv
, which had come back from hyperspace for the pickup. He thought he saw one explode seconds later, which meant a hit on something. He considered reporting it, then told himself he was thinking entirely too much like a human. Glory should be self-evident, not advertised.

The Larissan destroyers started after the
aksai
, but were recalled to guard the crippled cruiser and its mate.

“Now, with any flipping luck,” Hedley said, “your little mousetrap should give Redruth even more reason to pause.”

“Very good,” Angara told the assembled officers. “Very subtle. Especially you, Jaansma. Your performance was in the best traditions of the Force.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I think you’ll be a little less grateful when you realize the next thing to come is a circus.”

Garvin brightened visibly, then realized what Angara meant.

“
Haut
Hedley,” Angara went on. “Here’s the list of our performing bears, and the medals they’ll be getting.

“I think this is a good occasion to announce the cadre for the new Brigade. Initially, we’ll name you as CO of Second Brigade. Which means you’ve just been promoted to
Caud. Mil
Fitzgerald will take over this Brigade with the same rank. There’ll be other changes, of course.

“Just to keep matters from getting confused, I’m giving myself the brevet rank of
Dant
. This will be confirmed or rejected when we return to Confederation Command by higher command.

“That’s all.”

• • •

It was a circus indeed. A media circus that swarmed over Garvin as impossibly good-looking, Jon Hedley as the very picture of a young Force Brigade commander, if a bit too thin and intense, Ho Kang as a scholar-warrior, the
aksai
pilots as daredevils of the skies, Alikhan as proof the Musth-Human alliance was very firm, and Ben Dill as, well, Ben Dill.

Medals cascaded in all directions, and after it was all over, everyone was given leave.

• • •

“Wold you let me turn over, you lummox?” Jasith complained. “There you are on the holo again. I want to see.”

Garvin obeyed, rolling over on his back.

Jasith stared at the projection. “Let me turn the sound up … oh, this is a clip I haven’t seen. You know, I’ll bet Loy is just grinding his teeth into powder, having to see you all over
Matin
.

“Garvin, aren’t you interested?”

“I know what I look like,” he said. “But as far as interested …”

“Oh. Don’t bite me there. Mmmh. That feels good. When you bite my neck, you send chills all the way down my toes. Garvin! Don’t you ever want to do anything else?” She stopped talking, moaned sharply. “Don’t stop! Don’t ever stop!”

Garvin did wonder about himself. All he did want was to eat, sleep, and be alone with Jasith, preferably naked.

It was a momentary, necessary curtain between him and the ugliness of war.

• • •

Two months passed.

Raiders went out against Kura, bold enough to strike the fringes of Larix. Now their prime targets weren’t the escorts, but the merchant ships they were escorting.

The cruisers only made careful, token appearances, when they were sure no ambushes had been laid.

The deployment of the robot trackers made it easier to make contact with the convoys, but the Larissan escort commanders had gotten more skilled, so casualties on both sides mounted.

The Force had destroyed about 20 percent more Larissan ships, about the same number of Larissan soldiers. But given the population of Larix and Kura, and the data Njangu had learned about Larissan production rates, these cold numbers said the war was slowly but inexorably being lost.

• • •

The first reports tumbled in from the distant alert stations, a report from M-Cumbre, then its signal went dead. Shortly thereafter, automatic stations on the planet broke off, then communication was lost with K-Cumbre.

The Larissans were attacking, systematically taking out any manned or unmanned tracking stations they could find, then sending missiles after them.

Half an E-day later, a research ship off the ice giant I-Cumbre reported ships, many Larissan, then it also went silent.

Patrol ships from the bases on G-Cumbre went out. A scattering survived to report an entire Larissan fleet was in the Cumbre System. Four of the gigantic Naarohns, forty or more destroyers, and a swarm of lighter support ships, patrol craft and auxiliaries.

The Force responded instantly. Kellys,
velv, aksai
, even a few
wynt
, the barely space-capable Musth armed transports, and Zhukovs came up from C-, D-, E-Cumbre, moons, and asteroid-monitoring stations. All six of the Kane-class controllers lifted with the motley formations.

Dant
Angara was in the battle room of the command ship, the
al Maouna
. Ho sat in her chair, depressed to eye level with Angara.

“Damned if I can see why I didn’t find the time to learn how to run a battle from here,” Angara growled to Hedley.

“There’ll be no problem,” Kang said. “You tell me who you want and where you want them. We’ve set a small screen here that’ll give you just the inner planets, stationary to keep things simple, our ships in white, the Larissans in red. Projected orbits are those little green arrows.”

“All right,” Angara said. “Then let’s run these shit-heels back to where they came from.”

The Larissans closed on D-Cumbre, cutting inside its orbit, almost to C-Cumbre’s, then came back on the capital world.

They were in two inverted V’s, their support ships to the rear of the formation. Three Naarohns were in the lead V, the other with the second wing. That element had ten more destroyers.

“We go for the biggies,” Angara said, and the orders were commed.

Space in-sun from D-Cumbre became a swirling mass of fighting ships, trying for the cruisers. But the destroyer screen was too strong to break through. The cruisers fought from long-distance, their missiles longer-ranged and heavier.

A
velv
got close, hit one cruiser, not hard enough to take it out of battle, then was destroyed. The first V opened, trying to envelop the Cumbrian ships.

Angara ordered a pullback and regroup, flanked one wing of the V, and began shattering it in detail.

Ships fought, killed, and died, then the emergency com came — the rear V had broken away from the main formation, was not being held in reserve, but was going for D-Cumbre.

Angara’s reserves were out of position, but he ordered them in, better late than not at all, broke off his attack, and went after the second V, swearing at himself helplessly, knowing the Larissans would get in-atmosphere with their damned nukes and there’d be hell to pay.

But a formation of seven Kellys came from behind Bodwin, D-Cumbre’s moon, where they shouldn’t have been. They smashed into the Larissans, earning the formation commander a medal instead of a court-martial. The single cruiser took three missiles in as many seconds. Its bow blew off, and the cruiser spun off toward Cumbre’s sun.

Some of the Larissans broke to fight the Kellys as other Cumbrians hit the V. But four held course, and there was nothing between them and D-Cumbre.

People in D-Cumbre’s cities puzzled at the unfamiliar howl of sirens, realized what they meant, and scurried for the hastily designated shelters, mostly basements or even first stories of large buildings.

The Larissans crashed in-atmosphere, sonic booms whiplashing the sea and islands, and in finger-four formation came in on Dharma Island from the south. Bays opened just short of the city, and bombs dropped, black rows walking down the sky, sending fingers of fire across Mount Najim, over the Highlands, and rich Rentiers died as their mansions shattered. The last of the bombs dropped just on Leggett City’s waterfront, exploding glass in the Shelburne Hotel.

Redruth had changed his mind, realized radioactive real estate wasn’t worth conquering, and the bombs held conventional explosives.

The destroyers rolled, came back for another run, and
aksai
swarmed them, missiles filling the sky with smoke, fire. Two ships blew up, the third went for space, directly into the flight pattern of the fourth ship, and there was, very suddenly, nothing left to shoot at.

Angara had only a moment to feel relief before he ordered the Force to reassemble and go after the remaining Larissans. But they were in full retreat, and as soon as they cleared world limits, blipped, one by one, back into N-space to their homeworlds.

“I guess we won this one,” Hedley said, wincing as the casualty list of ships scrolled across a screen. “Flipping expensive.”

“Not as expensive as it’ll be next time,” Angara said. “Next time they come it’ll be an invasion.”

The Force casualties were fairly grim — over a thousand dead, about the same number injured, sixteen ships lost, twenty crippled badly enough to be scrapped.

Civilian casualties were worse, all from Leggett City: eighteen hundred killed, three times that injured, billions of credits in damage. It was noted, though, that this battle had something unique in human history, as far as known: Most of the casualties were rich.

There were three good things to come of the Larissan bombing:

The half-ruined Eckmuhl, formerly the ‘Raum ghetto in the center of Leggett City and never seriously rebuilt after the rising, was nearly leveled. Architects privately licked their lips at being able, once this nonsense called war was over, at being able to completely redesign and build a city center from scratch;

The Planetary Council became a rubber stamp for any and every suggested emergency military appropriation;

Most importantly, recruiting for the Force skyrocketed, as the media showed endless hours of the bombing, mixed with “heart” coverage of the victims. The already-passed Conscription Measure, which had been lackadaisically creaking through the bureaucracy, was immediately implemented, and able-bodied sorts who weren’t particularly patriotic or warlike suddenly realized they were quite likely to be grabbed. That, in turn, sparked more enlistments, as the Force made it loudly clear the choice assignments went to volunteers, and a draftee would have to be very well qualified in something to avoid becoming a greaser on a spaceship, an airfield sweeper, or a common duty soldier.

But Cumbre just didn’t have that many people. Angara thought enviously of the thundering herds on Kura and Larix, and wondered if, after the war, some genius like Froude would figure a way to educate the Larissans into something better than what the ancients had called
Kadavergehorsamkeit
— obeying orders with the mindlessness of a corpse.

But first there was the small problem of Redruth and his regime …

Angara hadn’t been being pessimistic when he predicted an invasion. It had to be coming, for Redruth had no other options. His family had gotten and kept power by constantly reminding the people of their enemies, including the now-not-considered-mythical Womblies. Now Cumbre was the new horror, and he had to destroy it, or the populace would eventually realize how downtrodden they were and rise against him. Whether that was the only probability, Angara didn’t know. But he
did
know that Redruth, like most autocrats, would believe there could be no other choices than violence.

So Angara pushed, shouted, ordered, and reasoned for more ships, more training, more men. He ran endless map exercises, field exercises, computer games, exploring every option his staff could arrive at. D-Cumbre would not be the only target. C-, D- and E-Cumbre were slated for landings. Redruth would first take and hold a foothold on one of the other worlds before moving in-system. And so on and so forth.

To further complicate his task, Angara also was preparing something that none of his own people nor Redruth would be expecting.

• • •

Caud
Ceil Fitzgerald wore her just-graying hair close-cropped, matching her all-business manner and ex-athlete’s build.

Garvin and Njangu stood at attention in front of her.

“I’ll make this brief,” she said. “There were suggestions as to who should be the Executive Officer. You were among them,
Mil
Jaansma. Even though you’re the youngest of the ones
Dant
Angara offered, I’m picking you.

“I like the way you’ve come up with unorthodox ideas, even though they haven’t worked out quite as expected, always. I think I’ll have no problem riding herd on what we’ll call your youthful exuberance.”

“Uh … thank you, ma’am,” Garvin managed.

“Naturally, you’re promoted
Haut.”

She turned her attention to Njangu.

“I have very mixed feelings about you, Yoshitaro.”

Njangu kept his face blank, wondering which of his tricks Fitzgerald hated. Like most paranoiacs, he misunderstood her meaning.

“On the one hand, I think your devious mind is exactly what’s needed running Infantry and Reconnaissance Company. On the other, we’re not in a position to cozy up in slots where we’re not extending ourselves.

“And craftiness has other homes. Effective immediately, you’re promoted to
Mil
, and will replace Jaansma as head of II Section. I understand you,
Dant
Angara,
Caud
Hedley, and Jaansma had an irregular relationship, in that the four of you felt comfortable scheming without going through any chain of command.

“I want to maintain that same irregularity. We are badly outnumbered, possibly outgunned, and none of us has really recovered from the last few years of unrelenting combat.

“That is unfortunate. But there’ll be no relief until Redruth is beaten and, I suspect, his worlds taken by force. We’ve got to keep pressing him until he breaks.

“It’s the last fighter who can ignore his exhaustion and pain, stagger in, and deliver the last blow who triumphs.

“I’ve taken the opportunity to read your files, Yoshitaro, on Larix, and I’ve had a few conversations with
Aspirant
Stiofan. I do not wish either myself or my children to live under a tyranny like Redruth’s.

“So we mustn’t slacken now.

“That’s all. You two can select the new commander of I&R from within its ranks. I want the officer to hold the rank of
Cent
, so I’ve gotten authorization from
Dant
Angara to jump whatever ranks are necessary. I trust your judgment.

“You’re dismissed.”

Both men saluted, about-faced.

“Oh,” Fitzgerald said. “I almost forgot. I seem to have the reputation of being a harsh taskmaster. I prefer to think I merely am more focused than some others.

“Both of you can take the rest of the afternoon off, to celebrate your promotions. However, there’ll be a staff meeting tomorrow morning, an hour after general reveille. I expect both of you to be present and capable.

“Thank you.”

Outside, the two looked at each other wryly.

“Looks like it’s going to be a young man’s war,” Garvin said. “The book says you can expect to make
Mil
if you’re a good little rank filler about forty or fifty, and
Haut
’s a good rank to retire with after twenty more. Congrats.”

“You too,” Njangu said. “You’re on your way to Star Foozle.”

“Yeh,” Garvin said. “That’s me. Youngest fleet honcho in the history of the Universe. Wonder if I should start looking for a tailor to make up my uniforms now? Or for a fleet to command?”

Njangu started laughing.

“Nope,” Njangu said, “ol’ Fitz isn’t a slave driver. Not at all, no way in heaven. A whole, what, three hours off? My heart melts.”

“Guess we aren’t going to get too drunk, are we?”

“Guess not,” Njangu said. “Maybe we better com the ladies, tell them the news, and see if they’ve got any nice, sedate ways to celebrate. Maybe a brisk walk, eh? Or a refreshing cup of herb tea?”

Garvin grinned, then caught himself.

“Aw crud! Jasith’s off looking at some kind of new ore transporter the Musth came up with over on C-Cumbre. Guess it
will
be a quiet evening.”

“If you want, you can tag along with me and Maev. Maybe have a drink or two or dinner over at the Shelburne, then come on back so we’re bushy-eyed and bright-tailed for tomorrow’s staff bullshit?”

“A plan,” Garvin said. “Not that I especially like the idea of watching you two suck each other’s tongues while I stew in solitary splendor. But it’s better than having to buy every goddamned
Alt
in the Force a drink ‘cause we got promoted. Go ring your lady up, and tell her to get cracking.”

“After we get the pleasure of talking to the new I&R Commander,” Njangu said. “Heh. Heh.”

• • •

The reaction was predictable.

Monique Lir’s head swiveled, like a poisonous snake about to strike, between Yoshitaro and Jaansma.

“You pair of bastards,” she hissed. “I can see you standing there just eating this shit up!”

“Now, Monique, is that any way to talk to your superiors?”

“Goddammit, you two knew I don’t want to be an officer! Not ever!”

“Adj-Prem,”
Njangu said, trying to keep from laughing, “as
Caud
Fitzgerald has informed us, and as you should know full well, into each life some piss must tinkle.”

“Look at it this way, Monique,” Garvin said reasonably. “You’re not an
Aspirant
, not even an
Alt
. You’ve leapt into the heights of the not-quite-field-grade, in one swell foop.”

“Think of the money,” Njangu said.

“Yeah,” Lir growled. “About a hundred credits a month less than I make as
Adj-Prem
. Whoopie.”

“I know what the problem is,” Njangu said. “You’re worried about not having the social graces to handle the Ossifers’ Club, right?”

“Screw you, boss,” Monique said. “You know goddamned well what it is. Warrants run this Force. This army. Any army. Always have, always will. Now I’m one of you snots, and now I’ll have to start worrying about what my noncoms are trying to put over on
me
! That isn’t right!” she almost wailed.

“Tsk. Tsk,” Garvin said. “Uh,
Mil
Yoshitaro, isn’t it customary to throw a promoted I&R person in a pond or something? I don’t think the Musth left us any pools, so I guess we should throw
Cent
Lir in the bay. Right?”

“Uh …” Njangu began cautiously.

“Try it,” Lir gritted. “Please. One of you try it.”

“I think,” Garvin said hastily, “we’ll pass on that local custom, eh? Congratulations,
Cent
. I’m sure you’ll serve in the highest traditions of the Force.”

“And, by the way,” Njangu added, “Just so you don’t think we’re harsh taskmasters, you can have the rest of the afternoon off to celebrate your promotion.

“But we’ll want I&R on a dawn run tomorrow. Say, out to Tiger Maneuver Area and back. Can’t have the children getting stale, now can we?

“That’s all,
Cent
. You’re dismissed.”

Again, Lir gave them the deadly stare. “Sometime … I don’t know when … somewhere, I don’t know that either … there’ll be a chance for me to get revenge.”

Her salute could have illustrated a textbook.

• • •

An Ohnce in an orbit over Kura Prime, hidden near an ancient piece of space junk, counted, in its moronic way, the number of ships exiting atmosphere. Too many, too quickly. It coded the count and the size of them, blipped the transmission to its sister in hyperspace, who passed the word down the chain.

• • •

“Well hmmph and horseshit,” Njangu said, disconnecting. “Guess who’s off guarding the good
Dant
in Taman City. Helluva way to celebrate a promotion.”

“Yeh,” Garvin said. “Look. I’ve been thinking. The Shelburne’s ‘kay, I guess. But shouldn’t we have at least one uncivilized drink first?”

“What, you want to go impose on the noncoms, like we usually do?”

“Why not? Everybody’s busting ass, so it shouldn’t be that rowdy. One drink, then cross the bay for some serious rare roast, a bottle of wine, and then we toddle off to bed like good little boys and girls.”

• • •

Njangu either forgot, or chose to forget, that the NCO Club would be drinking Monique Lir to perdition, on her final night as a noncom.

It looked like all rank barriers were off. Garvin and Njangu weren’t the only officers in the roaring melee, and Yoshitaro thought he saw every member of I&R in the huge club, except for those unfortunates off in space or on duty.

And it wasn’t one drink they had. Each of them had to buy the other a round, then someone spotted them who’d heard about their promotions, sent over a round, and then another. Plus well-wishers dropped by with a drink or two to talk.

“Howmanyzat?” Garvin inquired after a while.

“Eightyleven for me, sixtyfourburp for you rumpkins,” Njangu said.

“Only one solitary rumpkin, like only me, at this table.”

Njangu owled at him.

“Looks like more.”

“Maybe I better cancel dinner reversations … sorry, reservations, huh?”

“Maybe,” Njangu agreed. “And have ‘em send over another round when the bar slows down enough for you to talk to it. Thirsty out.”

“ ‘Kay,” Garvin said, and got to his feet carefully. He took a sight on the bar and set his course, pleased that he wasn’t weaving at all, but still careful on where he put his feet.

He stopped, watched
Adj-Prem
… correction,
Cent
Monique Lir, dancing on a tabletop. She appeared quite sober. Garvin wondered where she’d found the saber that was her partner, went on.

He found a com, dug through his pouch, peering at each card until he found the right one, swiped it through the payslot, and, when the Shelburne answered, very carefully gave his name and announced that he and his fellow officer would be unable to keep their reservations … last-minute call of duty, y’know.

He was quite proud of his clarity of tone, spoiled the effect with an enormous belch, muttered an apology, and disconnected.

Now what? Oh yeh. Order a drink for Njangu. Better get one for myself to keep the guy company. Get two for each of us, since the bar looks busy, and I’m a firm believer in economy of effort
.

Coming down the hallway from the com and the freshers was Darod Montagna. She didn’t look in much better shape than he was, keeping one hand lightly on a wall for guidance.

“ ‘Lo,” Garvin said.

Darod looked up, recognized him.

“
Haut
Jaansma! Congratulations on your promotion, sir. Everyone’s real pleased for you.”

Garvin nodded, tried to think of a snappy reply, failed.

Darod took a step forward, stumbled a little, and Garvin caught her. She looked up at him, smiled happily.

It seemed a good idea for him to kiss her, so he did. She moved against him, both her arms went around his neck — she wasn’t that much smaller than he was, he realized — and kissed him back, tongue running in and out of his mouth. Garvin’s hand came up reflexively, cupped her breast, and she moved against him, pressing herself close.