Theirs Not To Reason Why: An Officer's Duty Part 28

"Yes, sir, I had just enough time to send coordinates and the emergency beacon before shunting power. If nothing else, they'll send a s.h.i.+p to investigate that much. Five, maybe seven hours, and they'll be along to catch our lightwave info, and see the rest of it," he offered. "On the upside, sir, both s.h.i.+ps' directions are carrying us out of the Oort plane. There aren't any major stellar body threats for the next...eighty million klicks?"

Ia nodded in acknowledgment, clinging to Culpepper's harness with one hand, the other on his throat. Ostensibly, she was checking him for signs of stress-induced trauma. Psychically, she was reducing his urge to haul her up before a Board of Inquiry. She would have enough problems explaining the deviations in their patrol; she didn't need him pouring oil on the blaze.

It was tempting to "correct" his behavioral problems. Not that she enjoyed meddling with other people's minds, but it was an option. Ia restrained herself; that was a problem for the near future, and one that would have to be corrected in a different way.

Not that she knew what the Salik had done to meddle with her mind. The amphibians were mind-blind, giftless, psychically null. How they could have blocked her abilities-her abilities-was still a complete mystery. Who or what could they have on their side, working for them? A Feyori? No, that wouldn't make sense. They're even stronger than I am...

At least the grey mist was gone. Enough to let her know that there was at least one chunk of that s.h.i.+p with a surviving databank core, and that in that core lay the coordinates for the base where this s.h.i.+p had been built. It probably would have moved on by the time the Alliance could get their hands on that databank, but there was a chance it would still be there.

That base just moved up from "unnecessary" to "vital" on the confrontation list. Someone needs to figure out what that mind-blocking effect was. Find it, and put a stop to it. Psychic abilities, and not just mine, are what will help us win the coming wars. The possibilities for many more blank-bubbles still existed in the timestreams, now that she knew what to look for, and the very real probabilities that their sheer presence would disrupt her work. But now there were viable streams that would connect to those blank-point whatsits. And...yes, I think some of those streams will be mine to pursue. I'll have to readjust for the other ones, too.

"Everyone on the Murphy is still alive, sir," Sikmah reported, recapturing Ia's attention. "Private Gundrich has a concussion and a broken arm, but otherwise they all survived. They have no thrusters and are in a tumble that's faster than ours, but they do have one functional laser pod, and they do have gravity."

"I'm glad. Tell them they can rig the escape pod to fire its thrusters for stabilization," Ia instructed her comm tech. "If they time it right, they can slow their spin and have some minor maneuvering capability-have them check their deadhead direction for obstacles and use the pod to miss whatever might be in their way. Other than that, they'll just need to hang on and wait, the same as us.

"After you do that, try your best to raise the cavalry, Sikmah," she ordered him, pus.h.i.+ng back from Culpepper's chair. She twisted as she drifted so that she could catch herself on her own station and not bruise anything further. "The faster we can get hold of the Fleet, the faster we can expect a rescue. Freefall is only fun up until you have to go to the bathroom."

Her dry quip made him smile, raising his and the others' morale a point or two. "Aye, sir."

MARCH 16, 2495 T.S.

BATTLE PLATFORM MAD JACK.

SIC TRANSIT.

Commodore Deng sighed and gave the woman standing At Attention before him a hard look. Lifting his hand, he pinched thumb and forefinger half a centimeter apart. His words were pitched too low for the pickups to broadcast his warning across the auditorium. "You know, you came this close to getting flogged for insubordination, Lieutenant Ia."

"I know, sir," Ia returned crisply, if quietly. "As I told the Board of Inquiry, I do accept full responsibility for the consequences of my actions, sir. But every Human has at bare minimum a baseline level of gut instincts, sir, and my guts were screaming about the dreams I had, and where I come from, you pay attention to dreams that are that strong, sir. Particularly when they repeat. Prophetic visions plague everyone on Sanctuary, sir, as I'm sure you've heard about in the news Nets recently."

The watching audience of soldiers and attached civilian personnel waited patiently for the two of them to speak loudly enough to be heard. So did the viewing members.h.i.+p of the Terran s.p.a.ce Force attuned to the Commendations and Corporal Punishments channel of the military news Nets. Commodore Deng continued to speak quietly to her.

"Well, your hunch did pay off. If you didn't have such a long-standing record of your hunches paying off, you'd be flogged. As it is, you do not have a record of reckless behavior... and given how that balances your actions in this matter," he stated, raising his voice so that his next words were picked up and broadcast, "it is the policy of the modern s.p.a.ce Force to reward good gut instincts and innovations which lead to outstanding successes."

Picking up the first of the boxes on the salver carried by an aide, he flicked open the lid.

"It is therefore my duty to present to you the Screaming Eagle, for the extraordinary act of piloting a s.h.i.+p with such skill that you missed an OTL hyperrift, sparking two of them on the bow and stern of an enemy capital s.h.i.+p, and for successfully escaping most of the subsequent blast."

"Thank you, sir." Ia accepted the award with a salute. It wasn't her first Screaming Eagle, but it would probably become one of her most famous.

He picked up the next box. "It is also my duty to present you with the Compa.s.s Rose, for an absolutely outstanding, extraordinary act of engineering. It takes brains to realize that there are options for success even when you are so heavily outmatched that it would be like...like a fly looking at a horse and deciding to kill it, not just land on it and try for a bite. It took brains to realize you could kill the enemy's s.h.i.+p, and do so with the one means, however dangerous, at your disposal. And it took brains to realize that one rifting might not be enough...though our tech meioas have grumbled to no end that you barely left them enough rubble to sift through."

"I couldn't take the chance the aft cannons would stay intact long enough to shoot us down, sir," Ia confessed. "With the enemy s.h.i.+p too close to escape, I knew I had one chance to get myself and my crew away from death's door."

"Well, you chose wisely. And you piloted well enough to keep your crew and yourself alive." He handed over the box, returned her salute, and reached for the next. "To accompany these, your superiors bestow upon you the Target Star, for successfully shooting down an enemy s.h.i.+p...since there's no doubt who pulled the trigger on this kill."

Another exchange of salutes and commendations.

Deng picked up the next two. "However...for the awarding of the Skull and the Crossbones, just like your crew, you get only one of each. We have no idea just how many enemy officers and noncoms were on board, so that's the bare minimum we can rightfully hand out. You didn't leave all that much intact, Lieutenant."

"I'm sorry, sir," Ia apologized again.

"You should be," he stated blandly. "I could use a hundred more officers like you, and a hundred thousand soldiers. h.e.l.l, we could use a million. Though if you go off-patrol again without advanced warning, you will be flogged."

"Understood, sir." Accepting the last two boxes, she balanced the lot in the curve of her left arm and saluted him one last time. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you," he acknowledged. "You and your crew are on a full week's Leave," Commodore Deng added, lifting his chin at the members of the Audie-Murphy, who were bruised but beaming, having received their own awards for their partic.i.p.ation in the short but effective battle. He returned his attention to Ia. "Hopefully by then, the TUPSF Audie-Murphy will be fully repaired. Try not to scuff the polish the second you leave this Platform on your next patrol, soldier, or I'll take it out of your pay."

"I'll do my best not to, sir," she promised. "I'll leave that up to the enemy, and take it out of their hides."

MAY 29, 2495 T.S.

K'KATTA MINING s.h.i.+P NN K'K'TIKUTT T'WII

ATTENBOROUGH EPSILON 14 SYSTEM.

The call came when Ia was in the forward cargo hold, examining the bars of refined minerals strapped into their carrying cradles.

"Lieutenant! This is Private Myang-Private Culpepper's going crazy, sir!"

Ia touched her arm unit. Private Adriene Myang-no relation to the more famous Admiral-General Christine Myang-was the newest member of her crew. "Acknowledged, Private. What's your location?"

The K'kattan captain chittered. His translator box rendered the clicks and whistles into Terranglo, since his race could not physically form over half the sounds the other sentient races could. "Is something wrong, Meioa Guardian?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Private Myang returned in Ia's ear, forcing her to concentrate through the alien's chitterings. "Ah...here's my transponder-I'm not used to the layout on these s.h.i.+ps, yet. Holy-Private Culpepper, put your weapon down! I said, put your weapon down! I'm recording this, sir!"

Flicking open her arm unit, Ia tapped in the command that placed Myang's transponder overlaid on a map of the K'kattan vessel and turned her arm toward the alien. "We need to get from here to there, fast."

"This way, Guardian!" the captain chittered, and scrambled for an oval opening high up in the hold. Not much on a K'kattan s.h.i.+p was designed for the convenience of Humans and other bipeds, but there were handholds and footholds, and the captain had thoughtfully lowered the gravity to 1G Alliance Standard to comply with and ease the inspection process. That made climbing after him a lot easier for Ia. It also helped that she wore only body armor, and not the bulk of a mechsuit, which wouldn't have been able to maneuver in such tight quarters.

Scrambling through the tunnel-like corridor after him was much more difficult, since they were barely a meter and a half high, forcing Ia to crouch or risk smacking her head on the claw-hold grips. From there, it was another climb, this time straight up, then a side tunnel to one of the crew's private quarters. They could hear a skreeling sound, the piercing cry of a K'katta in pain, and shouting in Terranglo.

"I said, put your weapon down, Private!" Myang snapped, her voice high and tight. Laserfire hissed, and the K'katta screech-yelled again. "Private!"

Ia ducked inside and straightened. The ceiling was comfortably higher in here, mainly because the alcoves of the crew nests were stacked three high. Private Culpepper had aimed his HK-70 rifle into the middle alcove, where one of the aliens huddled. It-she, from the paler coloring of her chiton-fur-was missing part of one limb. The grin on Culpepper's face was not a pleasant one.

"Sir!" Myang protested. Her own rifle was pointed at her teammate's back. "He won't put his weapon down!"

"This bug is holding out on us!" Culpepper growled through his grin. "It's got a sack of contraband in its hidey-hole, sir, and it won't let go!"

"Private Myang, lower your weapon," Ia ordered, her voice loud but her tone calm. Her hand dropped to her laser pistol, flicking the safety switch as the weapon rested in her holster. The faint whine of the e-clip warming up was lost under the noises being made by the injured alien in her bunk-like nest.

The black and ceristeel muzzle in the private's hands dropped, but more out of surprise than compliance. Myang blinked at her. "Me, sir?"

"Guardian, I must protest!" the captain chittered at Ia, while his crewmate shuddered and keened, a thin trickle of blood seeping from the edges of its cauterized wound.

Ia ignored him. She flicked her hand at Myang, motioning the private back. "Private Myang, you never draw a weapon on a fellow soldier unless you are prepared to follow through. Private Culpepper!" she snapped, catching the other soldier's attention. "You are in violation of Blockade protocols. Drop your weapon and put your hands on your head. You have five seconds to comply. Mark."

"I'm not doing anything wrong, sir!" Culpepper retorted, gun still trained on the quivering alien trapped in its nest. "This piece of filth wouldn't-"

Ia, silently counting down during his protest, pulled her pistol from its holster and pulled the trigger. Dark red seared a smoking hole in his left b.u.t.tock, just below the ceristeel plating of his body armor. Culpepper screamed and whirled to face her, hopping a little from the pain.

"You...you shot me!" he protested, eyes wide.

She flicked the muzzle of her laser pistol up, pointing it straight at his face. "Yes. I did. This is not a negotiation, Private, nor is it a discussion. You did not comply with a direct order from your superior, and have violated one of the Fifty Fatalities because of it, Private Culpepper. You will now drop your weapon and place your hands on top of your head. Be advised, my next shot is aimed to kill.

"You have five seconds to comply. Mark."

He wasted three of them gaping at Ia. Her gun and her gaze never wavered. Blinking, he hastily tossed the rifle on the ground and clasped his hands over his helmeted head. Private Myang quickly stooped and dragged the rifle away from his feet, slinging it by its strap over her left shoulder.

"Strip," she ordered, weapon and attention still focused on him. Hesitantly, he s.h.i.+fted his hands to the chin-strap of his helm. Ia lifted her chin, clarifying her order. "You will strip completely, and submit to being zip-bound, or you will be shot in the head, soldier. If you do comply, you will be taken back to the Audie-Murphy and placed in the brig for the remainder of our patrol. You will face a Board of Inquiry regarding your actions, and submit to thorough psychological examination. And if you are lucky, you will be dishonorably discharged and fined for the cost of the reparations both to regenerate this meioa's injuries and to recompense her suffering."

"But, sir! That bug has a bag of contraband wrapped up in that...coc.o.o.n thing!" he protested, starting to point into the nest alcove.

"You will return to stripping, Private, or by the laws of the Blockade, I will shoot you until you are dead!" Ia snapped, her gun arm still aimed at his face. "You have thirty seconds to completely strip to nothing but your skin. Mark!"

He blinked, eyes widening, then began struggling out of his body armor. She gave him three extra seconds, since he was trying to comply, then lifted her chin to the side, at Myang.

"Private Myang, zip the prisoner and haul him back to the brig. I'll take the rifle and secure his other belongings."

"Uh, sir...we kind of had to climb to get up here? If I zip his hands behind his back, he won't be able to get back down, and I can't carry him," Myang pointed out.

Ia had forgotten about that. She had only dipped into the timestreams far enough to ensure that Culpepper would comply, once she shot him the first time. Rolling her eyes, she shrugged. "Fine, I'll take him back. Zip his hands behind his back, bind his ankles together, and add four more around his waist. I'll need a handle." She turned back to the K'katta at her side. "Captain, I acknowledge that it is the responsibility of the Terran s.p.a.ce Force to make reparations. On behalf of the s.p.a.ce Force, I apologize for the gross misconduct of this soldier.

"I'm afraid we do not have the right medical supplies for healing K'kattan injuries on board our own vessel," Ia added, glancing at the figure still huddled inside the bunk-nest. "But I can summon a capital s.h.i.+p, which should have the right supplies and trained personnel. Or I can give you clearance to head for the nearest Terran Battle Platform or K'kattan Battle Nest, whichever you prefer," she offered to the dark brown alien at her side.

"We will accept the capital s.h.i.+p offer," the captain chitter-translated. "It is likely to be fastest."

"But-sir, the pod thing!" Culpepper protested, peering over his shoulder as Myang finished binding his hands and stooped to hobble him. "It's full of blue poppers!"

Sighing, Ia dug her scanner out of her pocket. Flicking it on, she aimed it into the nest. The scan confirmed the presence of the drug after a few seconds. "Yes, Private, it is a sac of drugs. But blue poppers are not illegal for the K'katta to possess because to them, it is not an hallucinogen. Their physiology reacts to it like it's nothing more than a triple-shot caf'. Drugs are an internal matter, Private, regulated by the sovereign rights of each sentient government. You were to report its presence, nothing more."

"And that gave you the right to shoot me?" he demanded, swaying as Myang tightened the second of the zip-ties around his waist.

"Did that sac of poppers give you the right to shoot that alien?" Myang growled, shaking him a little via the straps in her hands, before reaching around to apply a third one. "I think not!"

Ia answered him as well. "No, Private Culpepper. Your refusal to obey a lawful, direct order given to you from your commanding officer here inside the Salik Interdicted Zone gives me the right to shoot you. It's right there in the protocol regs for the Blockade zone," she reminded him, gun still trained on his face. "Discipline must be maintained while serving on Blockade duty. There will be no necklaces made of ears, no collection of severed legs, and no unstable soldiers serving in this zone. Not at my post. Not on my watch."

"The prisoner is secure, sir," Private Myang informed her, tightening the last strap around his waist. "I'll gather his things once you have him."

Holstering her gun, Ia nodded at Myang. "Acknowledged, Private." She turned her attention to the other Human in the cabin. "You're lucky I am strong enough to carry you, Private Culpepper. Given how angry I am with you, I'd be tempted to just kick you down the nearest access shaft, and let you take the damage that would result.

"But unlike you, I am in control of myself, and I will abide by the rules and regulations of Blockade Patrol." Hooking her hand through the ties circling the middle of his back, Ia heaved him off his feet. Ignoring his grunt of pain as the plexi ties bit into his stomach, she hauled him out of the alien crew quarters like he was nothing more than a sack of garbage.

CHAPTER 18.

Yes, I would have indeed shot him. With Private Myang's recording, there would have been no doubt as to his loss of stability, and no doubt as to Private Culpepper's violation of Fatality Five, Disobeying a Direct Order. Those two circ.u.mstances make it permissible-and even required, when combined-to quickly remove the threat of an unstable soldier by any means necessary while on Blockade Patrol.

But I am very glad it was not necessary. I am glad he was the only unstable member of my various rotating crews in the Interdicted Zone. You see, I am not inclined to waste lives needlessly. Not just because it is my duty as an officer to preserve as many lives as possible while carrying out a particular mission, but because my conscience as a sentient being will allow nothing less.

...That does bring up the end of my Blockade career, doesn't it? People like to say that falling from one danger into another, greater danger is like going from the frying pan into the fire. Unfortunately, when the Salik are involved, it's more like the other way around.

~Ia AUGUST 11, 2495 T.S.

PIRATE s.h.i.+P STELLAR LONGEVITY.