The Fight for Peace (15 page)

Cori straightened, stepping around Mateo to confront her platoon mate. “I’ll be there when I’m ready. It’s my day of rest. I can use it however I want.”

“We can find somewhere else,” Mateo said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Why don’t you find somewhere else to be?” Emery said as Pyotr came jogging around the corner, Iva on his heels. “This is a platoon matter.”

Mateo hesitated until Simmons and Tony came panting around the building as well. “I think I have to get ready for my rotation,” he said. “She you later ... or not,” he added as Emery stepped forward.

“What the fuck, guys?” Cori snapped as soon as Mateo left. She faced her core friends of the platoon now, Liisa having arrived as Mateo walked away.

“This isn’t how you move passed your past,” Iva told her.

“What do you know about what I went through? Other soldiers can sleep around. But now you want to be my mother?” Cori demanded, walking forward with fists curled. She couldn’t fight them all, but she was sure as hell going to hit someone. Emery was closest.

Pyotr stepped around him. “I told them, Cori. I told them how broken up you were.”

Cori marched toward her cousin. He didn’t move to defend himself. But when she looked at Pyotr, her eyes flooded with tears. Instead of hitting him, she fell into his arms.

“We’re not going to let you do this to yourself. So get over it,” Emery said.

“So what, you’re now in charge of picking who I get to date?”

“Sounds good. We accept your offer,” Iva said, throwing an arm around Cori. “Trust me, you’re not allowed to start with Mateo. I think that boy wants to sleep across Europe.”

Despite her embarrassment and sudden exhaustion, Cori giggled. “You guys don’t need to look out for me,” she said as they headed to their barrack.

“Yes we do,” Tony said. “We look out for each other.”

“That’s right,” chimed Simmons. “We’re more than your friends or family. We’re your platoon.”

When graduation came two weeks later, Cori was happy to see her mother, Tatiana, and Tatiana’s fiancé Phillip. But she was prouder to be standing with Blue Romeo platoon. The three day leave following graduation was enough for a quick ceremony officiated on base where Tatiana and Phillip wed, he wearing his old Guard uniform and Tatiana wearing the dress Cori had reluctantly helped sew over the holidays.

Despite being a soldier now, Cori didn’t get out of wearing the dress Tatiana had sewn for her. It was odd to don fine satin and yards of gauze, even stranger to have to pin the dress in to make up for the chubbiness training had taken off her frame. Cori didn’t recognize the woman she saw in the mirror, the one with the military stance and level gaze who wore a fine dress as if it was after thought instead of all she was. But Cori thought she’d like to be her.

Chapter 18

PRIME MINISTER BYRAN VASQUEZ

TO FIND PEACE

“How would Damir Stovik know Lieutenant Faronelli?” Byran asked Arinna over the video comm. It was one of their far too infrequent calls due to worries over the FLF tampering with the frequency or Arinna being unavailable, as was Jared. “I swear he recognized her.”

“Derrick thinks Damir is FLF Intelligence. Gabriella worked Italian Intelligence before the war. If Damir did as well ... I’ll ask her,” Arinna promised.

Byran hesitated. The glances between Damir and Gabriella over the last week had made him uncomfortable, but he’d never seen them exchange a word. Recognition did not mean friendship, but there was something there that made Byran uneasy. But he was also tired, cold, and hungry. Just about everything spawned annoyance and Byran had to work hard to maintain any cordiality toward the European Delegates and the Guard soldiers, much less the FLF that he was trying to befriend.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

Static crackled across the line. In the background, Kehm cursed. “It has to be them,” he said.

Arinna rubbed her fingers across her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen any indication of equipment?” She sighed when Byran shook his head. “Lieutenant Faronelli is trying to track the FLF comings and goings, but hasn’t spotted anything matching when our signals are disrupted. If it is the FLF and it is coming from the monastery, they must have equipment in their wing.”

“If I can think of a reason to get them to leave a few days, I’ll let you know,” Byran promised, sincerely wishing he could find a reason they all could leave for a few days.

“You look exhausted, Byran. Are you all right?”

Byran appreciated the expression Arinna wore framed the concern of a close friend. He’d give anything for an evening with her and Derrick, relaxing with a glass of scotch while hashing out the problems Europe faced. Wishing for it made him that much more tired.

“Between this and the problems back home ... just a lot on my mind,” he admitted. “You haven’t seen anything more troubling than upset citizens in the protests?”

“You mean like the FLF organizing it? No. But we keep watch. Danielle le Marc is behind it, you know? She’s put her name on the news stories now.”

“I heard,” Byran said, gaining a burst of energy from his anger. “Parliament is supposed to be handling the criticisms, which is awkward when several of its members are behind them. Isabella has tried publishing a few responses, that until these negotiations are settled and we can ensure voter safety there simply can’t be an election. But no one seems to want to report on that at the moment.”

“Gods, Byran, I’m sorry. If you want to come back for a few days ...”

“No, I think we are close to something here. A week or two more.”

They signed off after that, not wanting to leave the line open too long and invite new problems. Not when Byran truly hoped they’d reach a peace agreement soon. It was that belief that kept him going when so much around him felt like he waded through quicksand.

Byran slipped into the side door of the European dormitory, leaving Gabriella’s dactyl on silent guard behind him. The Guard soldier waiting on the marginally warmer side of the door, saluted.

“You don’t need to escort me back to my room. I know the way. Go and get warm,” Byran told the young man. He looked far too young to have participated in the fighting. Byran guessed he was from the greener Defensive Guard. The young soldier hesitated. “That is an order.”

Byran said it kindly enough to earn a smile, but firmly enough that the soldier headed down the hallway to where the woodstove sat on the first floor. It was a small kindness, but he could at least solve a problem for someone.

Byran headed up the stairs, walking along the silent hallway toward his office. The hour was late and most of the European delegates were either asleep or hugging the fireplaces in their rooms. He passed the office given to the Lieutenant in charge and stopped. Farrak had always been the one to escort him before the break. Gabriella never did. It bothered him.

Knocking on the door brought no response. He hesitated before trying the handle. The door was unlocked, but that wasn’t that much of a surprise. Few doors actually locked in this frozen labyrinth unless bolted from the inside. Gabriella wasn’t inside to bolt hers. A quick check of the two rooms confirmed that. The fire was low as well. Wherever the Lieutenant was, she hadn’t been in her room for awhile. Possibly not since the day’s negotiations had ended and she’d watched the European delegates leave for their quarters.

With a curse, Byran headed into the hallway and debated calling Arinna, then wondered what she would do. Come and track down Gabriella? He could manage that without dragging Arinna out of Europe. Keeping her away from a group that dearly wanted to kill her was the best option.

The first place he checked was with the soldiers on the first floor. They huddled and talked around the woodstove heating a small common space and kitchen. When he stuck his head into the room, the conversation petered out in surprise before the two men sitting jumped to their feet with a salute.

“Where is the Lieutenant?” he asked, ignoring the reactions.

“In her room, sir.”

Byran nodded and left, worries deepening. Where to check next was a debate. Outside in the snow seemed unlikely. Byran doubted he’d be allowed into the FLF wing, and the idea of walking those halls without an armed escort sent a chill to his innards. That left the upper floors of the European wing, the front entrance hall which was barely used, and the chapel where the delegations met.

Byran paused as he walked to the narrow steps to the upper floors and backtracked to an empty room. He could see his breath in the bone freezing chill. The space felt colder than outside, making Byran appreciate the meager warmth that he’d detested five minutes earlier.

The window was frost covered, but through the crystal spirals he could make out the snowy central courtyard. Resting his cheek against stone so cold it bit his flesh, Byran could make out the dark chapel at the foot of the complex. Only it wasn’t totally dark. A faint glimmer of lantern light shone through the lighter panes of the stained glass window. Now at least he knew where to look, even if he wasn’t certain what he’d find.

Taking a lesson from the many times Arinna had claimed to observe parliamentary sessions though he’d never seen her, Byran didn’t head for the main door or the nave. Instead as he darted across the short open expanse to the chapel, he made for the deeper evening shadows closest to him and the side door that had access to the choir loft before opening into the back of the nave.

The door was stiff, but opened and wasn’t guarded, which made Byran re-think where soldiers were posted. The dormitories were not the only areas that were crucial. But that was a matter for later, and whom he’d be discussing it with depended on what he witnessed in the next few minutes.

It had been years since Byran had tried sneaking up creaking staircases. But he made choir loft without too much racket. Hugging the wall, he inched forward until he could see the main nave. At the table used for deliberations over the peace treaty during the day, Gabriella sat with her arms crossed as she stared at Damir where he stood a few feet away.

“I’ve heard about you,” Damir said, studying Gabriella’s face. “From soldiers returning from the field where we’ve tried to trap you. You are one of the two Field Lieutenants. Your partner was the one who just left?” He paused, waiting for her slight nod. “They tell stories of you, that you are like the Lady Grey and Captain Vries. Undefeatable, clever, and beautiful, well one of you,” he said with a smile.

Gabriella managed to look nonplussed. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me the last week and invited me here tonight?”

“I’ve shared a drink with Derrick Eldridge. He is a Lieutenant as well. There is nothing wrong to saluting a good enemy. I know you don’t trust me. I’d find this rude if circumstances were different and I was merely trying to have a drink with a lovely lady, but to show you I’m sincere and not trying to poison yo
u—
” Damir took a flask from his coat, and toasted Gabriella with it before taking a swig. “Good stuff, I promise you,” he said, wiping the mouth of the bottle before pouring a splash into two glasses on the table. He pushed one toward Gabriella.

She hesitated before picking it up, sniffing the contents before shrugging and tossing it back. She coughed a laugh. “It is been a long time since I had Russian vodka. It is good. Thank you.”

Damir waved her thanks away as he poured another round. “To good battles, a war that went on too long, and maybe some trade so that you can have more Russian vodka and we can have more European cheese.”

“Cheese?” Gabriella asked with a laugh as she wiped her lips on the back of her hand. “Of all the things to miss, you want to trade vodka for cheese?” She shook her head at the sincerity on Damir’s face. “Your soldiers really compare Lieutenant Assad and I to Captain Vries and the Lady Grey?”

“Yes, of course!” Damir said, pulling out his chair to sit kitty-corner to her. “We’ve not beaten you the last few years when you and Lieutenant Assad led in the field. Much like the Lady Grey and Captain Vries during the war. They were inseparable and unstoppable. Even the last summer, when we thought we had one pinned down, the other was always there to rescue. That is you and Lieutenant Assad also.”

Gabriella fought a smile at the praise, twirling her glass. Damir leaned forward and filled it again. “They would risk everything to save each other,” she said with a soft snort. “They will always walk free together or die saving the other. I think Farrak would do the same for me ...”

“And not you for him?”

Gabriella’s eyes were dark with uncertainly when she met Damir’s.

“I think you would,” Damir said. “You would be fighting and not think. Just react to save your countryman. It is what soldiers do. Salut.” He clicked his glass against hers, drinking his down in a gulp. Gabriella followed suit.

“What surprises me,” Damir said, leaning into his chair and waving the hand holding his glass in an expansive gesture, “is that from my soldiers’ accounts it was Captain Vries who rescued Derrick Eldridge and Pyotr Grekov from Crystal City. I though Derrick and the Lady Grey were lovers, no? It was his father who told us that, so it was a good source.”

“Yes, well that is a murky past. She and Byran Vasquez were lovers once ... are? She raced back to Europe when she heard he was threatened and was so rattled she left her gun in her plane.”

Damir laughed. “I have a hard time believing that. Nothing has ever rattled her, as you say.”

“I’ve never seen her flustered before. But it is true. She isn’t infallible, though nearly. Forgetting her gun hardly matter. She did have her sword,” Gabriella said with a cool smile that set Damir chuckling again. “Speaking of that, why did your men have so few guns and were mostly armed with swords? I never could figure that out.” Gabriella leaned forward as she asked, eyes intent on Damir.

“Ah well the orders were to make the attack look like something protesters against the elections might have done. Your civilians don’t run around with many handguns, so we opted for swords. Any other wounds on Vasquez and his family would have been questioned.”

Byran didn’t think he could hear more without yelling or finding a gun and shooting Damir. Trembling with barely restrained rage, he crept through the choir loft and down the steps. The wind hitting his face as he left the chapel was a relief. If he could have yelled without attracting attention, most likely armed attention, he would have hurled curses over the cliff. Instead he returned to his quarters and paced across the small space like a caged beast. It took quite a few turns before he could think clearly on what to do.

He left a note for Gabriella on the center of her bed to see him and returned to his office. His anger rose and fell with the wait, the height of it fading to exhaustion by the time there was finally a knock on his door.

“You needed me?” Gabriella asked after he let her in.

“I wanted to know where you were.”

She didn’t answer, which raised his blood pressure again.

“I saw you in the chapel with Damir. What the fuck are you doing?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “It isn’t your job to spy on me,” she hissed. “I am trying to learn more about the FLF through Damir. I’ve seen him watching me this last week. Then he invites me for drinks. Drinks! As if this were a some civilized estate. It was a chance to ask him questions I couldn’t pass up.” Gabriella stared at Byran, annoyance cooling to surprise as her eyes widened. “What did you
think
I was doing?”

“Having candlelit drinks with someone who wants to kill your superiors,” Byran answered.

“Who trusts me,” Gabriella argued. “And so should you. My loyalties lie with Europe. I’ve proven that enough I shouldn’t be questioned.” Her tone implied specifically not by him.

“Then I’m glad you cleared this with Captain Prescot before meeting with Damir.”