The Glory of the Empress Page 6

  Bjorn wasn’t sure the general actually had the authority to give that order, but nobody was going to argue with her. He fell in with the others.

  “Parade rest,” the general said crisply, and Bjorn wondered if he’d have even half her poise if he ever reached her age. “Human life is fragile and irreplaceable,” the old woman recited, “and any loss of life is tragic, even in the service of the Empress, whose will is the only justice we will ever know. For this reason we will have silence for the fallen.”

  Bjorn had begun his career as an immigration analyst. He had never expected to hear these words outside a drama on a holo feed.

  The bay was perfectly quiet. Bjorn bowed his head and held his breath. His skin felt hot, and his heart was still beating fast. It had been only a couple minutes since the operation.

  The general waited perhaps thirty seconds.

  “And we carry on,” she said.

  Bjorn exhaled. He wasn’t thinking about the pirates. He hadn’t seen them, only their ship. His mind had been elsewhere. His training had prepared him for the fact that space combat was uncannily impersonal.

  Morel gave him an approving look. The general caught his eye.

  “Bloody good,” she said, and Bjorn ducked his head respectfully.

  “Makes me wish I’d done it,” Major Compton said. “You made it look easy.”

  “How’s the side?” Rada asked as the crew began to disperse.

  Bjorn put his hand where her tether had struck him. “Not bad,” he said, probing.

  “I can’t believe you volunteered for that.”

  “It’s not like I was going outside during a battle,” Bjorn said. “No one even knew we were here. They still don’t. Those smugglers don’t know what happened. They didn’t see a thing. We showed up on their scanner for about half a second. ‘Clean’ is the right word for it,” he said, thinking of Commander Mao.

  “I never thought I’d see something like that up close,” Rada said, shaking her head. “I’m a tech.”

  “You’re a pilot now. We’re all pilots.”

  “I got in the sim just before we went into alert. I can’t fly like they can.”

  “You had to qualify.”

  “I can do the maneuvers, but that’s all I’ve got. It’s not art like it is with Lieutenant Ibuki and General Dayal. And you, Lieutenant,” she said, looking past Bjorn at Kladinova.

  Kladinova flicked her a look, then turned to Bjorn. “You said you wanted to talk.”

  He blinked at her, then sighed. “Let’s do that.”

  Rada smiled at him, gave him a funny look, then strolled off.

  “Look,” Bjorn said, turning back to Kladinova. She’d done the sensible thing and gotten rid of her combs, but her hair was still in elaborate ringlets. She twirled one, looking at him expectantly. “I don’t want to waste your time. I’ll do whatever you need me to, but you have to tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Who says anything’s wrong?”

  “I’m a commoner,” Bjorn said dryly. “I’m not blind. I assumed it was about Cophony. Maybe I was wrong. But you knew him, didn’t you?”

  “We trained together for this berth.”

  “Were you close?”

  She shook her head. “Not really.”

  He waited for her to go on. She didn’t. Bjorn rubbed his sore side.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t come naturally to you to deal with all this,” he said, gesturing at the bay. “It’s not natural for me either. But we can’t change it.” He pointed at the force shield, and the stars beyond it. “They aren’t always going to be sitting still, waiting for us to fly up and do what we want. This is my first cruise. I don’t want it to be my last. Can you understand that?”

  Her eyes had narrowed, and her glare had returned. Her jaw clenched. Obviously he’d offended her again, but it couldn’t possibly be his lack of propriety alone. She’d dealt with people from outside her caste before. She’d been exposed to enough by now that it should have been clear to her that in the Service there was more at work than her bloodline.

  “We’re at war,” Bjorn pointed out. He wasn’t sure why he said it, and he thought she might be about to hit him. “That’s all. I’m sorry. I know I don’t have to remind you. You should be in the simulator,” he said, checking his holo.

  She whirled and stalked off so quickly that it was almost as if she’d been waiting for a dismissal. Bjorn supposed he did outrank her, technically. But she’d never seemed to care about that before, so he didn’t see why she would now. Everwing team structure superceded rank regardless.

  Something was eating Kladinova, and he didn’t see what it could be apart from Cophony. Bjorn wasn’t sure what to think about Cophony himself; it was rare to hear about Evagardian defection. When it did occur, Evagard generally tried not to draw attention to it. It was bad enough when traitorous civilians joined terrorist organizations like New Unity, but Cophony was in the Service. A decorated veteran. That only made his case that much more bruising for the propaganda offices. Bjorn didn’t have much sympathy for them.

  He left the bay, planning to go back to his bunk, but his holo lit up. A private communication. He accepted it.

  “Bjorn, come see me.”

  It was Commander Mao.

  “Proceeding, ma’am,” Bjorn said, feeling suddenly apprehensive. It was a short walk up the spine to the bridge.

  Major Lucas was looking at some charts on the main feed detailing the path of the smuggler ship with the tracker on it.

  “Major, could you give us a moment?” Mao said without looking up from her holo. She was sitting cross-legged in the command chair, apparently deeply involved in whatever she was looking at. The chair was sized for a tall man; she looked like a child in it.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Lucas gave Bjorn a reassuring look as he passed.

  The hatch closed behind him, and Bjorn was alone with the commander. He went to attention, but she immediately looked up and waved him at ease.

  “You can have a seat if you like,” she said.

  “I’d rather stand, ma’am.”

  “It says here that you would say that. You probably don’t want to have this conversation, and you probably especially don’t want to have it alone with a female superior, but we should probably do it anyway.”

  Bjorn’s mouth went dry, but he said nothing.

  “My narrative says you were at the embassy at Genham Station, in the immigration office. Your first assignment. You were an aide to one Lieutenant Colonel Hagen. She was community relations and you were doing mostly screenings.”

  “That’s right.”

  “How was it?”

  “The job, ma’am?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never been in one of those offices, but like I said, my parents were immigrants. So at some point, someone like you must have worked with them and said, ‘Okay, there’s no reason these two can’t be imperials.’”

  “We don’t have any personal discretion. The flags we look for are all in the policies, and it all has to go through the system. I was mostly there to be a troop for my supervisor, and to sign off on the system’s verdicts.”

  “Genham Station must have been a good assignment. Right on the edge of regulated space, plenty of colorful people. Plenty to do for a young, single, Evagardian enlisted man.”

  Bjorn didn’t say anything to that.

  “Did you like the job?”

  “It wasn’t my first choice.”

  “What was?”

  Bjorn knew perfectly well that information was in the file she’d already read. “Band.”

  “I read here that you didn’t make the cut.”

  “I like music. I never said I was good at it.”

  “I gather you were glad just to be in the Service. I see your mother has a criminal record, and your sister has poor aptitudes and test sc
ores. Were you trying to open doors for her? It’s what I would’ve done.”

  “I’m not comfortable talking about this, ma’am.”

  “That’s fair. But we do have to talk about you and Colonel Hagen.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve talked to a lot of people about Colonel Hagen,” Bjorn said, making his gaze a little more direct. “Why do you feel like there needs to be one more?”

  Her brows rose. “Because those people,” she replied evenly, “can’t seem to come to an agreement about you. And I’m out here trusting my crew to you.” Mao cocked her head and smiled. “I’m not asking, Bjorn.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “So, I don’t know how that relationship between you two started. I didn’t read your statement; I feel like that would be creepy. I like to believe that since Hagen was charged with predatory fraternization and discharged, you were probably in some way coerced. I thought they gave you that commission to shut you up about Hagen, but it turns out it was the only way they could get you to come into the Everwing program. You wanted out of the Service completely after the Hagen thing.”

  “Are you ordering me to answer?”

  “I didn’t ask a question. If I’m just going by what’s written here, you had this affair, you didn’t get in trouble for it, the Service promoted you, then you got this incredible opportunity and you still wanted out.” She spread her hands. “I don’t get that. But it’s none of my business. Here’s where I’m hung up: it’s your psych report.”

  “I don’t know anything about that, ma’am.”

  “I know you don’t. But here are the exact words that your first analyst had to describe you after this happened: ‘emotionally destroyed.’ The next one you saw wasn’t quite as worried about you, but I’m worried about this first one.” She paused. “Bjorn, that’s some pretty strong phrasing. Don’t you think?”

  “Ma’am, I’d prefer not to talk about this.”

  “We don’t have a choice. I’ve never seen a mental-health professional use those words. I don’t know if I can trust any of these follow-up reports.” Mao sighed. “‘Emotionally destroyed.’ So maybe the thing with Colonel Hagen was more complicated than it sounds. Here’s my next problem: they flagged you as being potentially suicidal. Now,” she said, holding up a hand, “I know you’ve been cleared and you’re fit to serve. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t. I know this is all a year old. But I read everyone’s files. Everyone’s. Yours doesn’t add up, but here’s what does make sense: I see ‘emotionally destroyed,’ I see the word ‘suicide.’ And then I see the young man whose previous duties had him behind a desk who puts his hand up when I propose a fairly dangerous op. Do you see what I’m saying?”

  “I have the same combat training as everyone else.”

  “See?” She pointed a finger at him. “What is that? Are you talking to me or reading a script? I’m sure you have some trust issues after Hagen, and I’m sure the last thing you want is time alone with me. So I’m not going to tell you to come to me if you have a problem, though obviously you’re welcome to. Go to Lucas or Compton. Sergeant Golding. They’ve seen it all, and if you have worries, that’s what they’re there for.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you seriously think I was going out there to die?”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “Why let me go?”

  “Better for you to do it now than after things heat up, when this crew is counting on you.”

  Bjorn stared at her.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” she said. “You’ll make me blush. Do you want to talk about Kladinova?”

  “What about her, ma’am?”

  “Please, Bjorn. I am paying attention.”

  “She’s struggling to adapt. And she doesn’t like me.” He shrugged.

  “It’s not just you. She doesn’t like anyone. Especially me. I’m the worst kind of commoner to people like her. I’m not going to share her private information with you, though I will tell you there’s a lot of it. Everybody’s got baggage, Bjorn. But Kladinova isn’t just an aristocrat; she’s a big one. I don’t know how much you know about how those people live, but her entire life has been sheltered and structured to the point that you’d probably find some of the details pretty hard to believe. She’s used to having someone breathing down her neck, holding her hand, and reminding her how much better she is than the rest of the galaxy. And that held true through training. The structure was there. But then that training ended, she boarded this ship, and now she’s just a member of the crew. She’s here with us, but she’s also on her own, in a sense. To her it seems that way, at any rate. It’s one thing to train for it, and another thing to do it.”

  “There’s structure here.”

  “But I don’t think it’s as cloying as what she needs. Some people don’t like to feel confined,” Mao said, cocking her head. “But some people need to be swaddled. Right now the leash is off for the first time, and she probably feels like this is all just a bad dream she can’t wake up from. She didn’t want to enter the Service, Bjorn. But look at her flying. She loves it. She was born for it. As long as she can fly, she won’t be completely miserable. And if you want to mellow her out, that’s your vector. Don’t you think?”

  He nodded.

  “I don’t know that she wants a safety blanket; that’s just a hunch.” The commander rolled her eyes. “But if that is what she wants, you’re her partner. Be that presence. Keep her busy. It might help. You never know. It’s worth a try.”

  6

  “IT’S not like we can’t afford it,” Woodhouse said, lighting up his holo. “Come on. Somebody bet something.”

  “Twenty on Major Lucas,” Rada said, holding up a hand.

  “Same,” Bjorn agreed, moving to stand beside her. “Nothing personal,” he added to Major Compton, who snorted.

  “Twenty on Lucas,” Major Morel rumbled.

  Major Lucas put his hands on his hips. “Guys, this is sad.”

  “Hey,” Ensign Grigori cut in, touching Compton’s shoulder. “What were you and Lieutenant Ibuki arguing about?”

  “What?”

  “I heard you. It was something to do with the general.”

  “Oh. He likes the drama about the general where she jumps through the air firing a gun,” Compton said, looking thoughtful. “And I like the one where she has that knife fight with the Golden assassin.”

  “I’ve seen that one,” Bjorn said. “Did that really happen?”

  “Ask her,” Compton said, glancing past him. The general was approaching.

  “Ma’am, we’re having a contest of strength,” Woodhouse called out. “Very Evagardian. Do you have any disposable income?”

  “I don’t gamble, Woodhouse,” Dayal said, looking on with a convincing expression of indifference despite the fact that she had obviously come to watch.

  “A hundred on Major Compton,” said DiJeur, joining the ring around the two men. Outside the Red Bay force shield, the Onren Belt was clearly visible. The stars were perfectly still, yet the Lydia was moving faster than a comet.

  “Can you afford that, Private?” Woodhouse asked.

  “I’m a yeoman now, sir.”

  “Oh, right. Anybody else? Nobody else? Where’s Golding? She should be in on this. And where’s Kladinova?” Woodhouse asked Bjorn, updating the wager in his holo.

  “Sleeping by now, I hope.” Following up on Commander Mao’s appraisal of Kladinova, Bjorn had negotiated more sim time for his pilot. It was clear that the simulator was her favorite place to be aboard the Lydia.

  “Lydia, you betting?”

  “No, Captain Woodhouse,” the AI replied.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “I think real arm wrestling needs a surface to put your elbow on,” Rada pointed out.

  “Whatever.”

  Lucas and Compton
locked arms. It had been obvious that Lucas would win, and he did. He was a few years younger than Compton, and at least ten kilograms heavier. It took only a moment.

  Compton shook his sore hand and rubbed his shoulder. Lucas just shrugged.

  “I feel like a bully,” he said.

  “You shouldn’t waste your money on me,” Compton said to DiJeur. She just smiled at him.

  “And Lucas goes on to take on the champ,” Woodhouse said, motioning Major Morel forward. “And, yes, no one’ll bet on this one because it’s even more one-sided, but we have to go through with it because of Evagardian thoroughness and excellence. The commander’s not going to walk in on this, is she?”

  “She’s on the bridge,” Bjorn said. “But I’m sure she’s watching.”

  “I swear to the Empress if she doesn’t start sleeping soon I’m going to knock her out. All right, contestants, begin.” Woodhouse waved them forward.

  Morel defeated Lucas in seconds. Bjorn found it impossible not to think about how effortlessly his bunkmate could snap him in half.

  “I challenge the winner,” General Dayal announced, stepping forward.

  Morel’s brows furrowed.

  Woodhouse balked. “Ma’am,” he began.

  “Silence, Captain. Ahmed, if you would.”

  Major Morel offered his arm. Dayal had to reach up to grip his hand. The difference in size between their hands was so great that hers was simply engulfed, but that didn’t seem to bother her.

  “There will be no wager,” she said.

  Major Morel initially tried to be gentle, but in moments he was straining. Bjorn could clearly see the muscles of his arm bunching and flexing; EV suits left nothing to the imagination.

  General Dayal’s arm did not move. Morel’s face was turning red from the effort, but she was placid.

  “That’s an EVX,” Major Compton said suddenly. “I should’ve known.”

  “Yes,” the general said calmly. “You could hardly expect an old woman to serve as she is.”

  An EVX was an EV suit with a nanomachine exoskeleton that could supplement the strength of the wearer. It took special clearance and certification to use one. Last Bjorn had heard, it was still considered experimental.