War Games Part 3

Screw strategy, the Empire was willing and crazy enough to take on the Fusion in an orgy of bloodletting and it didn't care who in the galaxy knew it. Never mind that it wasn't true. Appearance was everything.

If Cheloi put the importance of Territory Nineteen together with the proximity of Yinalna's home-world to the dreaded Fusion, she knew the loyalty of her new aide could not be taken for granted. On the other hand, Koul was the most patriotic officer she knew. If he had vetted Yinalna, then there was a good chance there was nothing sinister and Fusion-like to find. The problem was, there was something niggling at her, an intuition that she knew better than to ignore.

What was Yinalna doing in the misogynistic and h.o.m.ophobic Perlim military? With her intelligence, she and her talents were completely wasted. She must know that. Was her joining the military an act of rebellion against her rich parents, as her truncated details intimated, rather than one of patriotism?

And how should she read her possible liaison with Rumis? As an unwanted fraternisation to be disciplined? Or something she should encourage as a way to keep Yinalna as far away from her as possible?

Cheloi was already juggling enough b.a.l.l.s in the air and hardly needed another, especially one as exquisitely shaped as her driver. She had to keep her eye on Wakor, and remember that he and Koul were old friends. She had to keep Vanqill in one piece because he was key to her plans, if he but knew it. She had to find a way to mollify and short-circuit Koul and any game he had currently set running. And she had to carry out Central Control's orders to their satisfaction. She had no time to think of anything else, certainly not Rumis working up the courage and opportunity to kiss her aide. In a moment of weakness, Cheloi tried inserting herself into that picture instead, but the image was chill and stiff, lacking vibrancy.

Maybe this war had taken more out of her than she thought.

Her dinner was cold by the time she limped back to her quarters but she ate it anyway, and turned in with a tired grimace.

Chapter Three.

Day 1,501 of the War: Lith faced the featureless door to the Colonel's quarters and stared hard at it. It was five minutes to the hour when she would officially begin her first day as Cheloi Sie's driver and aide. She knew she should be requesting access but she didn't want to enter those quarters. It was more than nerves. It was fear.

She swallowed and looked around, trying to give the impression that she had only just arrived at the door and was straightening her uniform. Thankfully, the corridor was still empty. At this hour, most of the soldiers were either in the canteen enjoying their breakfasts or catching some sleep after coming off night duty. Thirty minutes ago, Lith had tried to join the noisy crowd who were busy eating, but her morning meal congealed like a lump of rock in her stomach. She finally disposed of the half-eaten meal with a grimace of distaste before walking back to her quarters to fetch her jacket.

The Major had told her the day before that s.p.a.ce limitations meant that the Colonel's anteroom also functioned as her office. Blue sector had been like that too...but Blue sector hadn't contained Cheloi Sie. Just thinking about walking into the personal territory of the Nineteen's commander was enough to make her fingers tremble.

The sound of approaching footsteps finally gave her the courage she needed. She jabbed at the access panel with a rigid thumb.

"Come in."

Sie looked up as Lith walked through the door. She was seated behind a desk. Lith scanned the room quickly, noting the cramped but tidy arrangement of furniture. To her right, a doorway loomed, probably leading to the Colonel's bedroom. She swallowed and faced front again.

"Senior Lieutenant Lith Yinalna reporting," she said smartly, matching words to a crisp salute, her gaze focused on some imaginary object fifty metres in front of her.

"Relax, Lieutenant," Sie told her, after a small pause. "I'm just finishing up something. I'll be with you in a second."

Lith allowed her hand to drop to her side, taking advantage of the relative peace to observe the Colonel more closely. Cheloi Sie exuded a palpable air of power, her movements measured and confident. Lith watched the dexterous fingers as they flicked through a small stack of flimsies before moving to the adjacent keyboard, punching out something with the speed if not the full skill of a trained typist. She muttered to herself when she made a mistake.

So, there were things that even the great Cheloi Sie couldn't do. Somehow, that made her seem more approachable. The tremors in Lith's fingertips subsided.

The Colonel was dressed in her uniform with the jacket fully b.u.t.toned. She looked formidable, but Lith noticed the small creases cascading down her left sleeve and the crooked placement of the scar-raptors on her shoulders. She could only guess how the otherwise immaculate commander regarded such laxity and repressed a small surprised smile.

Sie finished whatever it was she was doing and transferred her attention to Lith in time to see the slight curve of her lips.

"Has something amused you, Lieutenant?" The words were strict, but the tone flensed them of bite. There was only friendly curiosity in those dark eyes and a mirroring curve of her lips.

All of a sudden, Lith was struck by how open she looked in that moment. Not a cipher or even the emblem of a hated occupation, but a person in her own right. And an attractive one, at that. It was the lock of hair that rebelliously fell forward over her right eyebrow and the air of restrained scruffiness. Her eyes were warm, her fingers lean and capable, her aura one of competence. Lith had expected none of these things. All the characteristics together, wrapped in one living package, were like a punch to a nerve plexus.

"It was nothing, Colonel," she said. "A mere whimsy on my part. Please forgive my inattention."

The apology was accepted with a quick nod. "I believe Major Swonnessy briefed you yesterday on your duties."

"Yes Colonel, he did."

"And do you think you're up to the tasks? Aide to a sector commander is one thing, but aid to a territory commander can be much more frenetic."

"I think I'm capable of handling anything you can dole out, Colonel."

The words sank between them before Lith realised their impertinence. The Colonel's eyebrows rose. Embarra.s.sed, Lith lifted a hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

Sie raised a hand. "No matter. Let's move on to less, controversial subjects." Her lips quirked as she reviewed a flimsy, but Lith pretended not to notice. This Colonel Sie was too civilised for her liking. It was too easy to let her guard down around her.

"I'm sure Rumis-Major Swonnessy-told you that part of your duties is to tour the sector's medical facilities. In addition to supervising any special requests, you are also to distribute the minor citations and record commendations. I tend to reserve the medal awards for a monthly ceremony held here at HQ."

"Yes, Colonel."

"Do you know the location of all the territory's medical facilities?"

"Er," Lith thought furiously. "I'm familiar with those in Blue sector, of course," she began, "but as for the others...."

"I would have been surprised if you had," Sie told her as she petered off into silence. "Central Control considers the locations to be military secrets. I'll get the Major to forward you a map of the facilities so you can familiarise yourself with them."

"Thank you."

The Colonel c.o.c.ked her head to one side. "I have to say, Lieutenant, you're not at all what I think of when I consider the typical characteristics of a junior Perlim officer."

Her gaze was direct but there was something else in those bitter chocolate depths besides the impersonal frankness. A certain heat, a tingle of physical awareness. Lith felt it zipping between them and it made her flush.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. I don't believe I follow you."

"Your dossier outlined your family's background on Laeyek Omni B. It's unusual, because the children of well-to-do Perlim families don't usually volunteer for military service."

"Maybe they just need the proper encouragement," Lith replied.

"And what do you think that might be?"

You.

The errant thought startled her and Lith felt her eyes widen. In front of her, observing every flicker of emotion that flashed across her face, the Colonel watched carefully. Her eyes betrayed a quick blaze that was gone in a flash.

"The, the reasons for public service," Lith said in a rush, in a room that seemed to contain too little air, "are as varied as the people themselves. I think. I mean, I'm sure."

But the Colonel didn't seem to be listening. There was such a hot intensity in her gaze that it deepened the previously receding flush along Lith's cheekbones. She felt the heat slash across her face and quelled the urge to wipe the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. A strange flickering erupted chaotically in her belly, as if her stomach had somehow been temporarily isolated and shoved into a zero-gravity field.

The two women looked at each other.

No, she can't be looking at me like that! As if she...she wants me.

Lith tried to conjure up a sense of distaste, some protective shield of contempt but couldn't. She swallowed.

The shrill call of the comms console finally broke the frozen tableau and both exhaled quickly, as if suddenly free of an unexpected enchantment.

A man's voice erupted from the speaker, and Sie reached quickly for the earpiece, jamming it in her ear and dismissing Lith with a languid wave.

"Uniforms," she mouthed, before redirecting her attention to a point in midair. "Yes, Chinwoh, what can I do for you?"

Lith fled.

Day 1,502 of the War: "So what do you think of her?"

Cheloi knew she was only taunting herself by talking to Rumis about the matter, but there was method in her madness.

"I like her," he said simply.

His head was still bent, tallying the supply and expenditure figures for the territory, so he didn't see the fond look Cheloi directed at his dark head.

In only three years, Rumis Swonnessy had grown into a brother-subst.i.tute for Cheloi. She had picked him out of junior officer drudgery during the dying days at the Thirty-Five, promoted and mentored him during her tour at the Eight and he arrived, sparkling and efficient, as her adjutant at the Nineteen. She appreciated his decorative qualities but also warmed to his sense of humour, air of calm, and honesty. It was ironic that she should value what she herself could not share.

By rights, the both of them should have been working in a separate office complex, one focused on the administrative tasks at hand. But the Empire, already reeling from an increasingly expensive war that it had instigated, was not about to manufacture more cavern s.p.a.ce for rooms that would remain empty for half of each day. Cheloi had to accept that her office was part of her quarters. In any case, being an officer of the Empire meant that one had to give up all pretensions to a slab of personal s.p.a.ce. The policy stood whether someone was off planet or on one. Only the Emperor and the stratum below him, that layer of high-level policy-makers that included Central Control, were ent.i.tled to cubic metres of emptiness. If she was honest with herself, the lack of s.p.a.ce, and its subsequent privacy, was beginning to drive Cheloi crazy.

Despite the constrictions, she had managed to wedge a desk, some chairs and a bureau into the small subterranean s.p.a.ce. Three steps in any direction met either a door or a piece of furniture, but she was pleased that she managed to pack everything vital to how she operated into the one compact area. The privacy she was going to have to do without. At least, until she was off the planet. Hopefully, that day wasn't too far away.

"Don't you find it suspicious that Colonel Grakal-Ski found her?" she asked.

He did look up then, his eyes crinkling with a touch of humour.

"I did consider that, but Lith doesn't seem the type to sympathise with the Colonel. She's too," he searched for a word, "open."

Still, wouldn't that be something a twisted Koul Grakal-Ski might have considered? Mightn't he have deliberately looked for someone so obviously his psychological opposite as a ploy to get around Cheloi's defences? She couldn't discount the possibility, which made what she had to say to Rumis that much more painful.

"Maybe you should shadow her," she said. "Find out how she thinks. You're due to do the hospital rounds tomorrow. Why not take her with you and start training her on her duties? She can take over when you're satisfied."

The smile that split Rumis' face expressed unfeigned delight and Cheloi clenched her jaw to stop her teeth gnashing.

"If you insist, Colonel."

"Our casualty figures are up," she said abruptly, and curbed a burst of satisfaction when Rumis sobered. She scanned the figures across several flimsies arrayed horizontally across her desk and frowned. "Hmmmm. I see the same number of sorties throughout the Nineteen. No flare-up of rebel incidents. Yet we're taking a hit. What intel do we have?"

Rumis, on the other side of the desk, skimmed his security info.

"I read...it was...here it is. Latest intelligence says there's a new rebel leader in the region. His name is Drel."

"Drel," Cheloi repeated thoughtfully. "That's a southern sounding name, isn't it?"

Rumis nodded. "He claims to be from the Rardo Peninsula."

She lifted an eyebrow. "Long way from home."

Weren't we all?

Rumis kept skimming the information in front of him. "The upsurge in attacks against our forces coincide with him taking command of the rebels." He lifted dark eyes to his commander's. "We have to eliminate him."

"Of course." She shrugged. "But how? The rebels are an entirely mobile force. Koul suggested I turn Green sector into a set of dispersed, roving guerilla teams but the only person that would help would be Senel Wakor."

Rumis flashed her a quick grin.

"The Empire doesn't really know how to wage a war of this sort," Cheloi finished.

"We're used to razing cities from s.p.a.ce," he agreed. He looked briefly at the ceiling. "Not cowering in the dirt."

"We need strategies. And, to do that, we need to start pooling our knowledge. Rumis, perhaps you can sound out other territory commanders for tricks they've used."

Her adjutant nodded. "I'll do that."

She jerked her head at the flimsies he held in his hand. "What does the casualty breakdown look like?"

He glanced down at the figures. "Twenty percent fatality rate. Fifty percent require intense remedial work. Twenty percent can be shipped to local medical units. The rest can be redeployed within two days."

Cheloi nodded slowly.

"It would help if we had more sophisticated medical facilities on-planet," he added. "We're having to ship half our casualties offplanet, with the storms then taking their toll on the evacuee ships. However, if we keep them on the surface, we also run into problems. Menon wasn't that advanced a planet to begin with. The local facilities are still basic."

"I'll suggest setting up advanced surgery and treatment theatres behind the lines. Not that I think it will do any good."

"Where are the lines?" Rumis suggested blackly with a shrug of his shoulders.

She agreed. "Exactly. All we have are more secure territories and less secure territories. And any one of them could flip into the other given the slightest provocation. The att.i.tude I'm sensing is that the Empire is unwilling to expend significant money on facilities that could easily end up in rebel hands. I'll make the request. It's rational and will increase troop turnaround, but I'm sure I'll be wasting my breath."

"If it wasn't for the storms, we'd be winning."

"If it wasn't for the storms, Rumis, we wouldn't be here."

He couldn't argue with that.

"And what about the new rebel leader?" she asked, returning to the original topic of conversation. "Drel, isn't it? What else do we know about him, besides the fact he's brilliant and cutting through our deployments like a laser through brick?"

Rumis shrugged again, clearly unhappy. "He's a wild card. We get a lot of them-a rebel leader emerges, gains prominence for a little while, then disappears. The Twenty-Three has been through eight of them alone in the past year. Drel's different because he's lasted more than two months, so that's some kind of record. But I can get very little on him besides the fact that he comes from the Rardo Peninsula, and is short and ugly."

"The peninsula continues to give the Empire trouble," Cheloi commented. "Maybe there's something in the water down there."

Rumis' face cracked in a grin. "An anti-Perlim mineral?"

Cheloi sighed. "You never know."