No Man's Land Read online

  “Using explosives, I see. Who are all these people wearing our skels?”

  “Refugees, ma’am.” Way too late to come up with any lies or plans.

  The captain looked around, took in the whole situation. “You have any idea how much trouble you’re in, Lieutenant?”

  “More than I’d like to think about, ma’am.” Behind the captain another aircraft was landing. Someone jumped out before it even came to a full stop. In the light from the aircraft she could see the red hair.

  The captain said, “You’d better start thinking about it.”

  Cassie said, “Yes, ma’am,” but her eyes strained to see the man running toward them.

  Definitely Bobby. He caught his breath, gave the captain a perfunctory salute, and turned to Cassie. “Amudsen needs you right away. They’re holding a big hearing on embargo breach, and want your testimony.”

  The captain cleared her throat. “I’m afraid you can’t take Lt. Ramirez with you right now, Lieutenant.” She emphasized the last word. “She’s under investigation for some very serious offenses: arming locals, unauthorized combat....”

  She didn’t say the word “murder,” but Cassie knew it was implied. She waited for Bobby to give her a horrified look, to ask if the charges were true.

  Instead, he said, “Apparently you didn’t hear me, Captain. I’m not acting on my own authority. Delegate Amudsen sent me to find Lt. Ramirez. We’re dealing with a major problem: rebels ambushing peacekeeping troops, using high-tech weapons they shouldn’t have access to. A little more important than some minor skirmish between rebels and refugees.”

  Cassie could almost see the captain take a mental step backward. The MP certainly knew about the checkpoint incident, and the embargo breach. But she also probably knew about Bobby and Cassie’s relationship—it wasn’t a secret. Bobby might be bluffing; on the other hand, crossing Amudsen would not further her career.

  She needed an out, and Cassie gave her one. “I’ll make myself available for your investigation, ma’am, as soon as Delegate Amudsen no longer needs me.” She met the captain’s eyes, let her body imply “my word as an officer.”

  The captain exhaled. “I expect no less.” She turned to check with the soldiers that accompanied her, who were rounding up the refugees and checking on the rebels. Cassie heard her tell a soldier, “Load these people up. We’ll take them to the camp at Revelations.”

  Not a perfect ending for the refugees, but at least they’d be out of danger, out of the war zone. And sooner or later Combined Forces would start recruiting soldiers out of those refugee camps, the way they’d recruited her so long ago. Emilie would get her wish, though she probably wouldn’t get to fight on Titan.

  Cassie turned to Bobby. “Now, what are you really doing here?”

  “Just what I said. Amudsen sent me to get you. Though I’m not sure she expected me to rescue you from the MPs. Did you really do what that woman said you did?”

  “Yeah.” She waited for a lecture, some words of recrimination.

  Bobby said nothing.

  She said, “Look, like you said, Amudsen didn’t expect me to be in all this trouble. She wants to see me, the MPs will make sure I get there. You don’t have to put yourself on the line for me like this. Especially when you think what I did was wrong.”

  “I don’t think what you did was wrong, Cassie.”

  She stared at him.

  He kicked at an imaginary rock on the ground, then stumbled because he’d overestimated the gravity. Cassie caught his arm. “Our whole damned policy here, that’s what’s wrong,” he said.

  “But they really are investigating what happened at my checkpoint, the embargo breach?”

  “Oh, yeah. Big hearings. Headlines on every news service in the system. That’s why I’ve been looking for you. They’ve heard from a few members of your platoon, but you know how big-time tribunals prefer testimony from officers.”

  “How many members of my platoon?”

  He knew the question meant how many died. “Five,” he said quietly.

  Fifteen lost. Her fists clenched. Even on Mars she’d never lost so many at once. She found herself wishing she’d killed the injured rebel instead of giving him the painkiller.

  “It gets worse, Cassie. Our generals knew the latest tech had slipped past the embargo. Amudsen knew.” The expression on his face said he felt betrayed. “They just needed a fucking incident to pull the plug. Bastards.”

  Somehow Cassie couldn’t feel any outrage. She’d used all hers up. Generals worked like that. Diplomats did, too. All an individual soldier could do was go along. Or break the rules and take the consequences.

  Bobby went on. “The True Harkers aren’t ever going to negotiate in good faith. The core of their leadership believes in all that crap they put out—they’re going to do everything they can to win, because they’d rather die than compromise. You can’t negotiate with people like that.” He kicked the imaginary rock again, this time with more success. “I’m sorry I acted like such a prig, the last time we saw each other.”

  “I acted pretty bad myself.”

  “You stood your ground. You always do. That’s one of the reasons I like you.” He grinned at her. “I’m going to put in for a transfer, get out of this bullshit diplomatic stuff.”

  She was shocked. “What about your career?”

  “Fuck my career.” He said it loud enough that several people turned their heads to look at him. “Fuck it. I could never do what she does, could never send people out to die so I could use them as chits at the bargaining table.”

  Cassie put a hand on his shoulder, to give him comfort. But even as she did it she thought of the times she’d sent people out, knowing they would die. She hated having been the chit—the unknowing chit—but war worked that way. Probably Amudsen had started out as idealistic as Bobby. Maybe what she had to do gave her nightmares.

  Bobby went on. “I‘ve been so stupid. I really wanted to believe the problems were as simple as I expressed them in my thesis. I could see what was happening here, but it didn’t fit my theories, so I didn’t want it to be true.”

  He took both her hands. “Think I could run a checkpoint? No, probably not. I’d probably fuck that up, too. Maybe something dead end. Supply or something. Or just be enough of a pain in the ass that they ship me home the next transfer. How about it? Want to transfer with me? Just mark time until our terms run out, and we can find decent work?”

  Cassie said, controlling her voice carefully to keep it from breaking, “I imagine the only place they’ll transfer me is the stockade station off Luna.”

  He looked startled, as if he’d forgotten her situation. “You don’t sound scared.”

  She laughed. It was better than crying. “I work at not sounding scared. I’m terrified. Even if they don’t lock me up, just kick me out, I’ve got no place to go, no job skills except killing people.” Suddenly she was shaking.

  He put his arms around her, held her until she stopped.

  “I’ll use whatever clout I’ve still got with Amudsen to keep all that from happening,” he said.

  She let him hold her close. It felt so good. But she said, “That’ll only work if it’s in the bigger interest, Bobby. Just like everything else. I gave weapons to refugees, killed rebels. If they need to hang me out to dry to get the negotiations going again, they will.”

  “Then we’ll put them on trial—the USG, the whole shebang.”

  She smiled. His words might be grandiose fantasy, but they helped. “Will you come visit me while I’m doing time?”

  “Hell, if they lock you up, I’ll steal a ship and come bust you out.” He pulled her close to him again. “We’ll fight it together, Cassie. I’ll stand by you, whatever happens.”

  Something in her relaxed. Not alone. For the first time in countless years, not alone. Someone else would fight with her, would help her as she tried to find the next step. She might still lose. Probably would. But if she could just remember this feeling, this
moment, she could bear anything.

  GODZILLA WARFARE

  Maria V. Snyder

  Val’s comm link buzzed in her ear, waking her. Not another problem with the simulator, she thought. Damn thing breaks more than the mining trolls on Mars Seven.

  She toggled it on with a little more force than required, hurting herself, which just added to her annoyance. “Harris here, this better be important.”

  “Sergeant Harris, report to Captain Bachman’s office immediately,” a mechanical voice said.

  Oh shit. Val rolled out of bed, sorted through the pile of uniforms, searching for one less wrinkled than the others. An impossible task. Finally, she found a pair of fatigues that didn’t look like it had been on the losing side of a fight. She dressed, tied her long auburn hair into a regulation knot, and sprinted for the captain’s office.

  This is it. Time for the you’ve-outlived-your-usefulness-talk. Time for the let-the-younger-generation-take-over speech. Even though, at forty-two, she was still able to outsmart the newbs, the invention of the planet-wide shields had rendered her expert skills obsolete.

  She paused outside the captain’s door to compose her expression before peering into the retinal scanner for identification. The base on Mercury Three was far enough away from the action to be safe from a direct attack. Indirect was the new strategy. Thus the talk.

  The door slid open, revealing a waiting area with a receptionist. Val fully expected to be gestured to a seat in the typical army hurry-up-and-wait manner, however the private working the desk admitted her into the captain’s office without delay.

  Double shit.

  The captain sat behind her desk and watched Val approach and salute. Bachman’s immaculate uniform lacked a crease. The knot of her blonde hair had been twisted into perfection. Val resisted the desire to yank at her semi-wrinkled shirt.

  “Sergeant Harris, I have an assignment for you,” the captain said.

  Biting down on her surprise, Val waited.

  Captain Bachman glanced at the collective’s screen. “There’s an unexploded MFG-66 on Jupiter Nine and since you’re the expert in disarming those…what do you call them?”

  “Godzilla bombs, sir.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a reference to a mythical Earth creature that can destroy a city, sir. Since the MFG-66 has enough energy to flatten a city with a population of thirteen million or less, we’ve code named it the Godzilla, sir.” And it managed this feat without using nuclear energy. No sense contaminating the planet you were fighting over.

  “Interesting.” The captain tapped on the screen. “There is a bullet waiting to take you to Jupiter Nine. Please report to deck twelve, barrel two right away.”

  Val hesitated.

  “Sergeant?”

  “We’re at war with J-9, sir.” And a whole list of other ungrateful colony planets.

  “Not at present. We have signed a cease-fire agreement with them, and are currently involved in treaty negotiations. This mission is an act of good faith on our part, Sergeant, so don’t screw it up or UFoP will come down hard on us.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The captain confirmed what Val had surmised on her own. The war with J-9 and the other colony planets hadn’t been going well these last few years.

  Val swung by her tiny office next to the beast, a.k.a. the simulator, to gather her equipment. She hadn’t been assigned a field job in over seven years. A few of her instruments were out of date, but so was the Godzilla. Odd. This whole mission felt…off. Not much she could do about it. Val sent a message to her second, putting her in charge of the newbs’ training and nursing the temperamental beastie. Good luck.

  She reported to barrel two. The bullet to J-9 was piloted by a scruffy-looking lieutenant whose skin had the grayish tinge of someone who hadn’t seen sunlight in years. Another old soul. Wonderful.

  He flashed her a toothy smile when she saluted. “No need for formalities on my ship, Sergeant. Call me Leo.” He eyed her gear bag. “How much does that thing weigh?”

  “About three kilos.”

  “And you?”

  “Fifty-four. Why?”

  “This baby’s stripped down for extra speed, not comfort. Let me pitch about sixty kilos and we’ll be all set.”

  Leo piled various gadgets on the deck. He held a stack of vomit bags, debating. “Do you get Kasner-speed sick?”

  “No.”

  “Great.” He tossed them onto the pile. “Let’s go.”

  Val wedged herself into the back seat, strapping in even though, with this conveyance, you either arrived or you didn’t, there was no in between. The ship’s name came from the simple fact that it resembled the old projectiles that had been used on Earth. Cone full of navigational equipment and controls, a seat for the pilot, followed by a seat for a single passenger, a small cargo area, and ended with the Kasner-Phillips engine. Constructed for the sole purpose of getting from one place to another as fast as possible, the bullet was literally shot out of a barrel and into space.

  They hit Kasner-speed as soon as they broke Merc-3’s gravity. Val had forgotten how truly awful the experience of traveling at Kasner-speed was. The destroyers she’d been assigned to before baby-sitting newbs traveled at the more leisurely pace of Phillips-speed.

  By the time they arrived near J-9 and her body coalesced, Val wished she’d kept a few vomit bags. Getting too old for this shit.

  “How ya doing?” Leo asked.

  “Fine. How much longer until landing?”

  “As long as the Jups open their shield, we should be on terra firma in twenty.”

  “And if they don’t open the shield?”

  “We’ll go skating, baby. Put on a nice fireworks show for the Jups as we burn!”

  Val sighed. Fly boys. “I meant what’s the plan if we’re refused entry?”

  “Oh. Turn around, go home. They’re the ones with the pimple.”

  The dimple. Bombs that crashed but failed to explode left craters that the explosive experts called dimples. But she wasn’t going to correct an officer even if he had spent too much time at Kasner-speed.

  Despite Leo’s personality quirks, they landed with nary a bump twenty minutes later. When they finished decontamination, Val and Leo entered the port and were surrounded by a dozen armed soldiers.

  “Ah, the welcoming committee,” Leo said. “Let me handle this, Sergeant.” He introduced himself to the squad’s sergeant. “I believe you requested an ED expert? I’m just the pilot, but I’ve brought Sergeant Harris. If you have an ED to disarm, she’s your girl.”

  Val kept her expression neutral despite the desire to cringe over the lieutenant’s intro. The J-9 sergeant’s hard gaze swept over her with frank appraisal. She reciprocated. About her age, he had the weathered look of someone who’d been in one too many skirmishes. Buzzed black hair and blue-colored eyes, he stared at her with open suspicion.

  They confiscated her gear bag and “escorted” her to a conference room, while they led Lieutenant Leo…elsewhere. She sat on one side of a square metal table that had been bolted to the floor. No windows, no decorations—other than six chairs all secured to the floor—Val realized the purpose of the room probably wasn’t to confer, but to interrogate.

  If they think I’d make a good POW, they’re in for a surprise. I haven’t been relevant since those damn planet-wide shields. The civil war with J-9 and a number of other planets had gone on far too long. She understood that they desired their independence from Mother Earth. But they didn’t want to pay Mother back the octillions of dollars she invested in equipment, supplies, and labor needed to colonize a raw planet. Nope. They wanted a free ride.

  Mother didn’t have a problem with the colony planets that signed the pay-their-way-to-freedom contracts. Although these semi-free planets had formed the United Federation of Planets (UFoP)—a laughable tiny group for such a big name. Too bad they didn’t remain small and insignificant. The UFoP agreed to stay out of the civil fights as long as Mothe
r Earth adhered to fair warfare tactics. They also now had enough member planets and firepower to enforce the rule.

  The sergeant from the port entered the room with two of his men. The door closed with a distinctive click. The men stayed near the door as the sergeant approached. She stood.

  “Sergeant Harris, I’m Sergeant Gideon. I’m to brief you on the situation.” He didn’t offer his hand.

  They sat on opposites sides of the table. Gideon tapped on the surface of the table. It glowed as it accessed the J-9 collective. A live picture of a barren landscape showed a number of small dimples. As the view zoomed closer on one, it revealed the crater the bomb had created. The MFG-66 had made an impressive scar, digging deep. The view followed the impact path and then the bomb itself—a melted distorted mass, but still deadly. Val wondered how the Godzilla ended up in the middle of nowhere where it couldn’t do any damage even if it had detonated on impact.

  “I’m leading a team to the crater. You’ll remain here and give me instructions to disarm it. I have experience with explosives,” Gideon said.

  Interesting brief. At least he wasn’t planning on using a remote robot. Those things had a twenty percent success rate with the Godzilla. “No,” she said.

  “It isn’t up for debate, Sergeant.”

  “Sergeant Gideon do you want to die?” she asked in a reasonable tone. “Do you want that MFG-66 to detonate because your expert can’t smell, touch or get a sense of the bomb through a screen? Now, I don’t care if you blow your team to little tiny bits, but my boss ordered me not to screw it up. So unless you take me out there, I’m not going to cooperate.”

  Gideon stood. “I’ll discuss it with my superiors.”

  “Good. And make sure you tell them that, when we’re onsite, I’m in command. It’s not negotiable.”

  His demeanor remained dispassionate, but anger burned in his gaze. She almost laughed. Working with unpredictable explosive devices in hostile environments over the years, Val couldn’t be intimated by one man’s ego.