The Swarm (30 page)

“That's certainly possible,” said Chamrajnagar.

“More than possible,” said Mazer. “That's how they do it. If they can't get you discharged, they damage your reputation so completely that you'll never get promoted. Then they ship you to some backwater assignment as a supply officer and leave you in total misery. That way, they still drive you out of the military, but you leave on your own accord. When your contract ends, you don't reenlist. Why would you? You've been given the worst detail, and you have no possibility of escape. You're in a hole you can't dig yourself out of. It's a slow death, but it's death all the same. They win.”

“Sounds like you know the justice system as well as I do,” Chamrajnagar said.

“There's nothing
just
about it, Lieutenant. We lost before we started.”

They reached the end of the terminal, and Chamrajnagar pulled to the side to let them out. She and Mazer stepped down, and Mazer grabbed his rucksack. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, but better than before.

“Still want my case?” he asked.

“Absolutely, sir. Even if the outcome here seems predetermined, I want to help however I can.”

Mazer nodded. “I want my wife to meet you. She's a better judge of character than I am.”

“Your wife and I have already met, sir. Three times. Twice for lunch and once to shop for shoes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You and Kim shopped for shoes?”

“Mrs. Rackham has a keen sense of style, sir. I needed new shoes.”

“You're aggressive,” Mazer said. “I'll give you that. Is my wife the one who filled your head with stories about my involvement in the previous war?”

“No, sir. She's tight-lipped on that subject, though she did toss me a few leads to pursue.”

“I see. And what does my wife think of you?”

“Her exact words were, ‘If he doesn't take you on, tell him he's an idiot and that I won't ever make my cashew chicken stir-fry for him again.'”

“Then you're hired, Lieutenant. I can abide a life outside the IF, but I can't abide life without my wife's stir-fry.”

*   *   *

Kim was waiting for him outside the security perimeter, which was as close as nonpersonnel were allowed to get to the IF docks. She was wearing her hospital scrubs and looked like she hadn't slept in twenty-four hours. Mazer dropped his rucksack and took her into his arms. She smelled the same, felt the same, embraced him the same way she always had, burying her face in his neck and squeezing him so hard around the chest it was a little hard to get air. How could he leave her again?

She kissed him briefly and then held his face in her hands. There was a profound sadness in her eyes behind her smile. “How long do I have you?” she asked.

So she had been following the news.

“The IF will go into panic mode,” Mazer said. “We're not ready for combat. Tech-wise, training-wise, fleet-wise. Our fleet isn't even built yet. Not completely. We thought we had at least two more years before war.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “Where does that leave you?”

He smiled at her and brushed the hair out of her face. She was still clinging to him, as if she thought he might drift away. “Let's not talk here,” he said.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“The only thing worse than shuttle food is military shuttle food. I'm famished.”

They went to their favorite noodle shop in Old Town, a tiny family-run affair with only a few tables and dated decor. Kim had tended to the owners' daughter at the hospital after a skimmer accident a few years ago and saved the little girl's life. The owners, a Japanese couple, had treated Kim and Mazer like family ever since. Dakotsu, the father, threw his arms wide when Mazer and Kim entered. “Look who returns to Luna.” He shuffled to them and bowed low. “Kim tells me all about your adventures, Mazer. You have been in a secret group, I hear. Very important work.”

“She'll tell you anything to keep you feeding her noodles,” Mazer said.

Dakotsu laughed, put an arm around Mazer, and addressed the four people eating in the restaurant. “Everyone, this is Mazer Rackham, my friend. A captain in the International Fleet. Know that name. He will save the world some day.”

The patrons glanced at Mazer and Kim with disinterest and then returned to their noodles. Dakotsu laughed and gestured for them to follow. “Come. Special seat for you. All noodles on the house.”

The special seat was the table for two in the back beside the aquarium and a neon sign advertising a Chinese ale. Dakotsu wiped the table down quickly and slid napkins into the holding clips. “I'll get you the usual, yes?”

“Nothing would make us happier,” Kim said. “Thank you.”

The man smiled and shuffled away.

Kim reached across the table and took Mazer's hand. “You want to tell me about this court-martial?”

“Not really. It will only annoy you.”

“Everything the IF does annoys me. Why should this be any different?”

The noodles were eaten and the dishes were cleared before Mazer had finished giving her all the details. She kept shaking her head as he went over the events. When he was done her mouth was a hard line.

“How comforting to know that the military is run by crooks,” she said.

“There are good commanders in the IF, Kim. Problem is there aren't enough of them. There are too many like Vaganov.”

“That drastically weakens our chances against the Formics.”

Mazer nodded and took a sip of his tea. “That's their greatest crime.”

“So what are you going to do about him?”

“About Vaganov? Nothing. The man isn't my concern.”

“So you'll let him get away with what he's done to you? He'll probably be promoted to rear admiral if he isn't stopped.”

“My war isn't with Vaganov,” Mazer said. “It's with the Formics. And that's war enough.”

Kim hesitated. “So you'll leave for the Belt.”

“Unless I'm discharged. I don't have a choice, Kim.”

“You don't have to give me the ‘I'm a soldier' speech, Mazer. I know this is what you were made for. I knew that when we married. I accepted it then.”

“That doesn't make it any easier.”

“No, but I've known this day was coming, and I've had a long time to think about it. For now, I'm going to enjoy you for as long as I have you. Secretly I'll pray that you're discharged.”

“They won't discharge me,” said Mazer. “They don't want me free and talking to the press, kicking up secrets best kept hidden. They'll send me to some remote corner of the system where no one will pay me any mind. If you're going to say a prayer, ask that I'm exonerated and that the Formic ships all self-destruct.”

“How long will the proceedings be?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe a few weeks. Maybe five minutes. I'm not sure how high the situation is stacked against me.”

She reached across the table and held his hand again. “Then while you're here, I want us to try again.”

She meant try having a baby.

She had wanted children immediately after the wedding. If they only had five years before the Formics arrived and thus five years left of life, they deserved to have the experience of bringing a child into the world, a little wonder that was half him and half her. There were names she had safeguarded since her childhood: Gideon if it were a boy, and Margaret Elizabeth if it were a girl, after her grandmother. But after marrying Mazer she had tossed these aside in favor of Maori names: Pai Mahutanga for a girl, Pahu Rangi for a boy.

It had filled Mazer's heart to hear her say those words, to see her embrace the culture of his upbringing and adopt it, in a loose sense, as her own. For it was a part of him, and everything that was his was to be hers also.

So they had tried.

Kim had taken the first miscarriage in stride. It was devastating, but the doctors assured them that such an outcome was common, particularly in the low gravity of Luna. And so they had shouldered the loss and pushed on. But after the third miscarriage, Kim had felt only despair. The following week, Mazer had been sent to WAMRED.

Mazer spoke gently and squeezed her hand. “Are you sure you want to do this, Kim? After everything you went through last time?”

She nodded. “I've had a year to think about this, Maze. It's what I want. I'd like to think it's what you want too.”

“You know I do. It's just … it was so difficult before. The miscarriages. It pained me to see you go through that.”

“I'm willing to take that risk.”

“And the Formics?” Mazer asked.

“What about them? Why should they have any say in what our family does?”

“They're practically here, Kim. Do we really want to bring a baby into the world now when there may not be a world for it to live in soon? The Formics kill indiscriminately. They don't care if you're elderly or an infant. They'll gas you and step over your body without a second look. If the Fleet loses, that's what's coming for you and a baby. I can't stand the thought of that.”

She looked hurt. “We got married to build a family, Mazer. You agreed to try before, and we knew the Formics were coming. What's different?”

“Everything, Kim. We tried having a baby before because I allowed myself to believe that what we have, our family, this between us, can't be broken. I believed that somehow the human race could win, that we could pull off a second miracle. But I've spent a year away from you, Kim. And do you know what I did all day every day at WAMRED? I tested weapons and armor and suits and equipment and landing crafts and shuttles. And at night I studied everything I could find on the nets about the enemy, everything we've learned since they came the first time. Their tactics, their biology, the fleet that they're building. And do you know what I learned? Do you know what I gleaned from all that study and all that experience? We are probably going to lose. Earth is probably going to fall. All that equipment and weapons I tested, it's not going to be enough. I've seen the best that the human race has to offer, Kim, and it isn't enough. Half of the tech they gave us to test didn't even work right, and the half that did will be brushed aside. The Formics have been building a fleet while moving at a fraction of the speed of light, using nothing but pieces of their mothership. We can't even build a fleet while remaining stationary with all of the solar system's resources at our disposal.”

She looked taken aback. “So you're saying we should give up?”

“Of course not.”

“Because that sounds like surrender to me.”

“It's realism, Kim. I don't like it any more than you do, but those are the facts. I am going to do everything I can; heaven knows I am going to try, but the odds are stacked so high against us that we can't sit back and pretend that all will be well if we just believe in the indomitable will of the human spirit. We are technologically inferior, fighting an enemy we do not understand.”

“Which we beat before,” Kim said.

He shook his head. “This war will be nothing like that. The landscape is completely different. The enemy is far more numerous. We can't concentrate our forces, because that would leave massive holes in our defenses. It's space, it's too vast. The Formics would easily scoot around us and make a beeline for Earth. We can't protect all that space. We'll try, but it will leave us vulnerable everywhere. And when the Formics decide where they want to attack, the rest of our forces won't be able to rush to the aid of those under attack because the distances between them will be too great. It would take months to reach them, by which time the Formics will have wiped out our ships and moved on to Earth.”

Kim looked annoyed. “So it's hopeless then.”

“I didn't say hopeless.”

“You don't have to say the word, Mazer. I get the message.” She shook her head, a look of disappointment on her face. “I'm sorry if you had a bad experience at WAMRED. I'm sorry if only half of the machines worked, or if the others weren't strong enough, or if your commander was a selfish idiot. And I'm sorry if some no-name doctor put some numbers together and decided you were unfit—”

“That's not what this is about, Kim.”

“It's precisely what this is about, Mazer. You've given up. For whatever reason, you've decided how this is going to end. And that hurts. Because that's not the man I fell in love with. The man I married says, ‘To hell with all of you. There aren't any weapons to stop the enemy? Fine, I'll make my own. You think I'm unfit? So what? I'll win the war anyway. We don't have a fleet strong enough to obliterate the Formics? No problem, I'll do it myself.'”

“I am going to try, Kim. But these are the facts. I'm not superhuman.”

“You don't have to be,” Kim said. “You only have to be who are you. That's all I'm asking for as well, that you be Mazer Rackham. The man I chose to be the father of my children.” He started to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him. “Having a baby, building a family, that is why this marriage exists. That's what our species does. We make babies, we build families, regardless of the outside forces trying to tear us down and wipe us out.”

He stared at her, saying nothing.

She grew quiet. “I want a baby, Mazer, because if I lose you, I lose us.”

It was only then that he understood. She didn't want a child solely to grow their family. She wanted a child to
preserve
their family, to keep a part of him with her always. They both knew—everyone knew—that even if by some miracle the Fleet were to beat the Formics, it would not be without a cost. There would be heavy losses. Catastrophic losses, most likely. No one pretended otherwise. Yes, there were some soldiers with a blind sense of optimism, but most people who enlisted and took on the blue understood what they were getting into. They had no pretense of surviving the war. They simply wanted to go down fighting.