Chapter 18

"Well, we sure liberated the hell out of this place."

Lieutenant Andreanne Payne, C Company, 1st Battalion, 61st Regiment of Imperial Infantry, glanced at Private Kerbeck and then looked around at the smoking ruins of the town. She had to agree with her trooper. It was at least the dozenth town they had 'liberated' since arriving on Novo Paveo, but for once the EnBees had put up a fight and the battle hadn't left much intact. Some of the buildings had been blasted completely to rubble and many of the rest had burned. There were bodies lying in the streets. Most of those were the EnBee defenders, but she had no doubt that there were civilians buried in the rubble. C Company's assault had been fast and by surprise and there would have been no chance for the civilians to get out of the way. The speed of the attack was probably why the EnBees had stood and fought this time—they couldn't run.

Not that standing and fighting had done them much good. They were just lightly armed infantry and they'd stood no chance against the Barrayarans in battle armor. She took another look at her platoon status display and was relieved and satisfied that none of her troopers had been hurt. 1st and 2nd platoon had each taken a few minor casualties, but 3rd platoon had been lucky—this time. She clicked the command circuit to Captain Vorstang. "Payne here. The east end of town is secure, sir, all resistance neutralized."

"Good work," came the reply. "Establish a perimeter, get your sensors placed, and wait for our relief."

"Yes, sir." She relayed the command to Platoon Sergeant Kay and he quickly got the men in position. Kay was really shaping up since they got here. He could take care of most routine matters on his own now and she could trust him to get it done right. He was getting a better grasp of command in combat, too, although she wasn't sure she'd trust him with the whole platoon. There were a couple of the squad leaders who were showing some real skill, however. There were times when she wished she could swap one of them for Kay. But there was no way she could do that.

For the next few hours nothing much happened. She inspected the perimeter, checked out the sensors just for something to do and waited for the relief forces to arrive. Naturally they were late. But eventually several large shuttles landed and a reinforced company of the Army of the Republic of Free Novo Paveo debarked. The acronym for them was ARFNP and the Barrayaran troops had taken to calling them 'Arfnips', which seemed particularly appropriate: they barked loudly but didn't have much of a bite.

Unless you were an unarmed civilian, of course.

Anny looked on in disgust as the Arfnips dragged people out of the remains of their houses and turned them over to the 'intelligence' personnel that always accompanied them. They were looking for 'traitors', of course. She knew that they had fast-penta, but they saved that for real interrogations. They much preferred the old fashioned rough-and-ready methods they were using now: beat the snot out of them and see if they confessed to anything interesting.

The first few times she'd seen this she'd tried to stop them, but some very loud barking by the officer in charge to Captain Vorstang (and once all the way to Major Vorglanov) had resulted in orders that forced her to refrain from interfering. It turned her stomach, especially when they went to work on the women and kids, but there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

"Hard at work winning hearts and minds again, I see," said Ensign Vorstuban, coming up next to her.

"Yes."

"At the rate we're 'pacifying' this place we could serve out our whole careers in this dump, eh, Lieutenant?

"Did you want something, ensign?" Vorstuban was one of the extra officers that had been assigned to the regiment. Vorstang had been keeping him as an aide. Anny didn't particularly like him.

"Captain just sent me to see how the turn-over is going. You about ready to pull out?"

"We're ready. Let me see if our allies are ready to take over." She left Vorstuban standing there and went over to the man she'd identified as her opposite number. While most of the Arfnip troopers wore utilitarian (and sometimes downright ragged) fatigue uniforms, the officers were always much better dressed. The man she approached was only the local equivalent of a lieutenant, but he had enough gold braid for a Barrayaran general. And since the Barrayarans were no slouches when it came to fancy uniforms, that made him a very resplendent lieutenant indeed.

He turned to face her as she approached. An eight-foot tall, 250 kilo suit of Mark XI battle armor was something no one could really ignore. Anny clicked on her translator and activated the suit's speaker. What she said was: "Lieutenant, I want to pull my troops out. Are your people ready to replace us?" But the translator that converted her words into the local version of Portuguese added all sorts of flowery embellishments. Some wag had circulated a memo with twenty stock phrases and the literal meaning of what the translators produced. It had been very funny—and a tad alarming.

The man frowned, glanced toward where some of the intelligence people were having their fun and then replied. His mouth seemed to be pouring out a lot of words, but all that came through on her communicator was: "Noble ally, there will be a slight delay. Please have patience." She was quite certain that his actual words had said nothing of the sort. Screw you, Barrayaran, we'll relieve you when we're good and ready!

Anny had encountered this sort of thing before and she knew how to deal with it. "My men will be falling back to their extraction point in ten minutes. If you don't want the perimeter left vacant, I suggest you get some of your men moving." Without waiting for an answer she turned and walked away. She wondered how that had been translated?

She heard the start of an angry reply but she kept walking and shut off the translation by switching to her platoon circuit: "Third platoon, we will fall back for extraction at exactly 1535 hours." She was annoyed and her annoyance only grew when she that Vorstuban was still there and now he was grinning.

"Nicely handled, Lieutenant," he said. "That's the only way to deal with these people. I swear those Arfnip grandees are as stuck up as the worst of the Cetagandans. Looks like the message got through, though. They're moving."

"Good."

"Of course I suppose some day one of them is just going to ignore us, get his command wiped out, and then blame us for abandoning him. Just out of spite."

"Don't you have anything to do, ensign?"

"Not really, no. I've already visited the other platoons as Vorstang ordered. I thought I'd hitch a ride back to base with your platoon."

"Why?"

A slight twitch in Vorstuban's armor indicated that he'd shrugged. "Why not? I've been trying to get to know all the other officers in the company. And I've succeeded with every one except you, Lieutenant Payne. I'm starting to get the impression that you don't like me and I can't understand why."

Anny twitched. Had she been that obvious? And why didn't she like Vorstuban? He'd never been anything except polite and respectful in the dealings she'd had with him. He'd been in her class at the Academy, but she honestly couldn't remember ever having met him there. He'd been in a different company and apparently had never been among her many tormentors—which was certainly a mark in his favor. He was a bit arrogant, true, but then he was Vor and that was to be expected. And while he was only here at all because he'd used his influence—his uncle was an admiral, if she recalled correctly, that was true of her, too, wasn't it? She'd had important friends help her get back to the Regiment. And it wasn't like he was a newbie anymore: every man in the Regiment was a veteran now.

"All right," she said. "Come along if you like."

"Thank you, sir." He made a half-bow in his armor.

Anny did her best to ignore him while not appearing to ignore him until 1535 and then she led her platoon back to where an assault shuttle was waiting for them. The Arfnip troops did appear to have taken over the perimeter positions… more or less.

She and her men piled into the shuttle and strapped themselves in. Vorstuban took the seat opposite her—the one normally occupied by Sergeant Kay, who had to move to another spot. Within moments the shuttle was aloft. Vorstuban started to undog the latches securing his helmet.

"Better keep that on until we're over friendly territory, ensign," she said. "If we take a hit you'll have no time to get it back on again."

The man looked startled and then glanced at the other men in the shuttle. None of them had moved to remove their helmets. "We never seem to worry about it on the command shuttle… You really think there's much risk of that?" he asked.

"I heard the bad guys knocked down an Escobaran shuttle just the other day," offered Sergeant Kay.

"Platoon orders, ensign," said Anny. "We stay buttoned up until I or Sergeant Kay give the word."

"I see. But yes, I recall that you do have some personal experience with surface to air missiles, don't you?"

"A bit, yes."

"Nasty?"

"They can be, especially if you're aboard a vehicle like this. In the… the action I was in, over half our casualties came from injuries during shuttle crashes. Your armor's shields aren't much protection from something like that."

Vorstuban looked at her with a strange expression. "I've heard some of the others talking about your record, Lieutenant, but I can't recall hearing you say a word about it yourself in the mess."

"If you want good stories then ask Alby Vorsworth. He was there, too, and tells a much better story than I do."

Vorstuban laughed. "He can certainly tell a story! And I have, in fact, heard his story about the action on Dounby. But he makes numerous references to your role in the battle. But I would be most interested in hearing about it first hand. I mean, even with all the skirmishing we've seen here, you're still the only one in the Regiment with a Medal for Conspicuous Gallantry."

"Is that what you're doing here, ensign? Hoping to win some medals?"

Anny realized that her words might offend some people, but Vorstuban only laughed. "Of course! Nothing like a few commendations to brighten up a fellow's record!" It took Anny a moment to decide that Vorstuban was, in fact, joking. Sort of… But then the young man's expression changed and he looked much more serious. "Actually, Lieutenant," he continued, "I was wondering if I might have a private word with you?" He raised his hand and placed an armored finger to the side of his helmet. He wanted to talk on the private officer's circuit.

Anny shrugged and switched over. "All right. What did you want to say, Ensign?"

"Ah… yes, well, your comment about medals isn't all that far off the mark. I am hoping to get some real combat experience while I'm here. I don't have to explain how important that can be to a career. Even with influence, there's only so far you can go with no combat record. And while I am getting some good experience working for Captain Vorstang, I was hoping to get a little, er, closer to the sharp end, if you take my meaning."

Anny blinked. Closer to the sharp end? The HQ of an assault company was already pretty darn close! The only place closer for an officer would be to command a platoon… "Third Platoon is mine, ensign, find your own."

Vorstuban laughed nervously. "I wasn't… er, that wasn't what I was thinking of, Lieutenant. But Vorstang has agreed to let me… tag along with one of the platoons for a while, as an observer, you see. Observer, second in command, whatever. He said I could do that if the platoon commander agreed." He looked at her intently for a moment. "And of course I'd pull my weight, help out however I could."

"Why me? Did Dahlberg and Vorgard turn you down already?"

"I haven't asked them. You were my first choice… sir."

"Really?" said Anny in surprise. "Why? Being associated with me might do your record more harm than good, you know."

Vorstuban looked thoughtful. "Perhaps with some people, but I believe they are going to end up on the wrong side of history. I remember the grief they gave you at the Academy, but all those fellows look like damn fools now. It's quite clear that the people who count most are backing you. And it's obvious that Vorstang thinks you're his best platoon commander…"

He does?

"… and I'd prefer to learn from the best. And I realize I am here to learn, Lieutenant. I haven't had assault training, as you know. I'm here because I had the connections to get me here, not because I earned it. I know that and I know that everyone else knows that. So I have some catching up to do and… and I'd be grateful for your help."

Anny just stared at him, thoroughly surprised. This was not what she's been expecting at all. Her immediate instinct was that this was some sort of trick. The paranoia that her friends chided her for not having back at the Academy had slowly grown in her. Well, not paranoia, exactly, more of a xenophobia, really. She had a small circle that she trusted absolutely, and a slightly larger circle that she trusted with some reservation, but anyone outside of that was not to be trusted at all. Lessons she'd learned the hard way. Vorstuban wasn't inside either of her circles.

But that's not his fault, is it?

And what test did he have to pass to get into her circles? The same test as anyone else: prove himself trustworthy. And the only way he could do that was for her to give him a chance. A lot of people had been willing to give her a chance over the years…

"I think we're okay, sir," said Sergeant Kay, suddenly, startling her. She looked over at her platoon sergeant and he was pointing to his helmet.

Glad for the distraction, she gave the platoon permission to remove their helmets, which she did also. Vorstuban took his off and sat there looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She pondered for another few seconds and then slowly nodded. "All right, ensign, if that's what you want, I think we can make a spot for you. Sergeant Kay."

"Sir?"

"Ensign Vorstuban will be joining the platoon. Temporarily. He'll be my second in command."

Kay nodded with a slightly wary expression on his face. "Welcome aboard, sir."

"You'll make the ensign familiar with our standing orders and operating procedures."

"Yes sir."

"Thank you, Lieutenant, Sergeant," said Vorstuban. "I'm grateful for the opportunity."

"I hope your time with us meets your expectations. Now, I'm gonna take a little nap. If you've got any questions I'm sure Sergeant Kay can help you." She closed her eyes and leaned back as far as her armor would allow. She had no intention of taking a nap, but she wanted time to think about this.

She didn't like surprises and this was certainly a surprise. Another officer with her platoon? What was she going to do with him? An infantry platoon didn't really need two officers, although having a 'spare' in case the commander became a casualty was never a bad idea. But still… She could certainly dump some of her administrative chores on him, though. But command in the field? She wasn't so certain. But it might be a good learning experience for me, too.

Anny was aware that if she had any weakness as a commander it was a reluctance to delegate. Routine stuff—like paperwork—she had no problems giving to others, but battlefield command, that was another matter. Out there, under fire, she wanted to have her finger on everything. The incredible amount of information that the neural interface of her armor provided her with had allowed her to do that so far. She could tie into the armor of each of her squad leaders, looking over their shoulders, as it were, and give them very precise orders in real time. It had worked so far, but she knew that she was stifling the initiative of her subordinates and risking information overload with herself. In a really hot engagement she might find herself unable to control everything and if her squad leaders waited too long for her to give them orders… disaster.

She'd tried to step back, loosen the reins a bit, but with the lives of her men at risk, it was hard. Very hard. But someday she'd have to learn how to delegate. Someday she'd step up to company command and at that level it would be impossible to control every squad personally. She'd have no choice but to trust her platoon commanders to do their jobs.

Maybe it's time to start.

Without opening her eyes she used the interface to call up Vorstuban's record. His performance at the Academy was solid if not spectacular. He'd graduated in the top third and he'd specialized in heavy armor in his senior year. He'd been assigned to the staff of a tank brigade down on South Continent, but when the expedition to Novo Paveo had been announced and it had also been decided that it just wasn't practical shipping heavy armor halfway across the Nexus, he'd used his uncle's influence to get transferred to the 61st. With all the competition for plum assignments, even his uncle's pull had limits and he'd ended up in C Company, rather than some prestigious staff position. Or, if what he'd told her was true, maybe he'd wanted an assignment like this. As an afterthought she checked his genealogical records and was relieved to find that any connection with the Vorritters was extremely remote.

She felt the shuttle bank and she closed down Vorstuban's records and tied into an external camera on the shuttle. As she'd expected, they were approaching the huge base that had been built north of the capital city, Araxa. Each of the major powers in the alliance had wanted military bases here and so did the diplomatic personnel. With the massive support and supply facilities needed, the installation was nearly as large as the city itself. When you added in the defenses that went along with it, it was probably larger.

The 61st had its own section of the facility. As an assault regiment they had been used in the textbook fashion of rapid strikes against targets and then withdrawal back to the base to prepare for the next mission. They had barracks, storage and training facilities, even some recreational stuff. It was almost like being back at Fort Vorolson on Barrayar—except it was ten times the size. They had taken to calling the Barrayaran base 'Fort Gatchall' after the first Barrayaran soldier killed on Novo Paveo. He was from one of the other regiments, but Anny approved of the sentiment. She had noticed that various buildings on the base were acquiring names, too. So far the casualties had been light, but week by week they were adding up.

As she watched, she could see a dozen other shuttles and a few larger vessels lifting off or landing. Traffic was always heavy around the base, day or night. The shuttles carrying C Company slid into the pattern and minutes later settled onto landing pads in the 61st's area.

With the slight jolt of the touch-down, she opened her eyes and looked around as if she'd just woken up. It was a little trick she used to project an aura of calm. She rarely ever actually slept and usually used the time to do paperwork with her interface. She sometimes wondered if she was really fooling anyone. She released her armor from its harness and stood up. "All right, everyone," she said, "get your gear stowed, report any maintenance or repair issues to the ordnance sergeant, and then get some sack time. We'll be reviewing today's action at 0800 tomorrow. Dismissed."

The rear ramp was down and she led the way out and then over to the armory where their battle armor was stored. She emerged from her suit with a sigh of relief. The armor was really pretty comfortable considering what it was and what it was designed for, but it was always good to get out of it after a full day shut up inside. She put on a set of fatigues over her undersuit. After making certain everything was squared away with her platoon and her own gear she headed back to the officers' quarters. She was pleased that Vorstuban had the sense not to press too closely so soon. He headed off to his own quarters with just a 'see you later'.

Her quarters were part of a prefabricated unit that was pretty bare bones, but still reasonably comfortable. She still shared it with Chris Tropio and that was fine. Jac played dog-robber for the both of them. Neither of them was present when she entered and that wasn't surprising. It was mid-afternoon and they both had fairly normal work schedules. But Jac had set out her undress greens. Somehow he'd known she would be back today. It often seemed as though the regiment's dog-robbers were better informed about what was happening than anyone else.

She shucked off the fatigues and then peeled off the undersuit. A long shower was most welcome. She wished that Jer was there to scrub her back, but his company was off somewhere, halfway round the planet and probably wouldn't be back until tomorrow at the soonest. They didn't see each other as much as she'd like, but actually far more often than she'd expected. The first few times they had been sent off on missions to far flung parts of the planet, they'd both been terribly anxious about the safety of the other. But now, after months of only minor combats and light casualties they had gotten used to it—almost. She still worried about Jer, but it wasn't the agonizing knife in her gut that it had once been. I guess you can get used to anything. Amazing.

She dried herself and put on her greens and checked the order log. No parade today—again—so she pretty much had the rest of the day free, except for the usual reports she'd have to write that evening. They had dispensed with a lot of the ceremonial stuff they had done back on Barrayar. Anny realized now that they had done those things to remind themselves they were soldiers even though there was no fighting to be done. But now that they were doing real fighting, the ceremonies didn't seem so important. It saddened her—she'd loved that sort of thing—but they had more important things to concern them now. She put on her cap and left her quarters.

A warm breeze touched her cheek as she walked along the street separating the barracks buildings. Novo Paveo was a warm planet and much of it was tropical or semi-tropical. Only the polar regions ever got very cold and since there were no land masses at either pole, no one paid them any mind. Araxa was at the northern edge of the largest continent and had a pleasant climate. As you'd expect: with a whole planet to choose from, why not put the capital city where the weather was nicest? There was a rainy season, but it only lasted a month or two. The rest of the time there would be intermittent rainy spells—just like back home—but nothing resembling a winter.

She checked in at HQ, but there weren't any new orders that affected her. She stopped by Alby's office, but he wasn't there. She saw more of Alby than any of her old friends these days. Patric was off on a mission, too, and she felt a bit lonely. It was too early to drop by the Officers' Mess and too late to make a trip into town before dinner. The only other close friend who would be around was Chris Tropio, so she headed for the base hospital. Chris probably wouldn't have much time to talk, but there were a couple of men from her platoon recovering there and she really ought to pay them a visit.

The base hospital was enormous. The people planning the expedition had obviously expected heavy casualties and provided accordingly. As a result, most of the wards were nearly empty. Anny couldn't quite understand why the unused facilities weren't being opened to the locals. They were the ones taking the most casualties and the medical infrastructure on Novo Paveo had been as thoroughly messed up as everything else. But there weren't any locals in the hospital. She could understand that there were security concerns, but there must be something that could be done. Still, she supposed she should be grateful that the lack of Barrayaran casualties was keeping the place underused.

She was walking past one of the physical therapy wards when she jerked to a halt. "Sergeant Wood! What are you doing here?" she exclaimed. One of her men, Sergeant Mikail Wood of her second squad was sitting on a table while a medical orderly was doing something to his leg—his left leg—the leg that had been blown off by an enemy mine three weeks earlier. The man's face brightened when he saw her.

"Hi Lieutenant! How's my squad?"

"Uh, they're all fine," replied Anny. "But why are you still here? You were supposed to ship out for home three days ago!" They'd even had a going away party for him… As she got closer she saw that Wood's left leg was now a cybernetic prosthesis rather than flesh and blood.

"Yeah, but my orders got changed. Seems they're gonna grow me a new leg right here—while I wait!"

"But they don't have the facilities to do that!"

"I guess they do now. They say I'll be fit for light duty with this here gizmo in a couple of weeks and I can be back with the squad in just four or five months! How about that, Lieutenant?"

"Well, that would be… great. But are you sure about this?"

"Yessir! I checked twice."

"Huh. Well, I'm sorry you don't get the trip home, Sergeant."

"Ah, I'd rather wait an' go home with the guys. If I go home now, God only knows if I'd ever find my way back with the company. You know how those dang bureaucrats work."

"That's the truth," said Anny sincerely. "Well, it will be good to have you around.' Light duty', eh?"

"Yup. I 'spec you or Sergeant Kay will find me some, too!" He grinned at her.

"I imagine we will. Well, you take care of yourself. I'll see you later." She left the ward and then frowned. This was quite a change. Why hadn't she heard about it? She sought out Chris Tropio and finally found her in the break room.

"Hi Anny," she said. "Back already?"

"Yeah, this one was short and sweet. Only a couple of minor casualties. But I just saw Sergeant Wood. What's this about not sending him home?"

Tropio shrugged. "The last supply ship brought a regeneration facility. We can grow new limbs here now. Anything worse still goes home, but an arm and a leg stays here."

"Wow…"

"I guess it makes sense. With it a four month trip each way and the whole process only taking five or six months, they might as well stay here. Still, a facility like this cost a fortune…" Chris trailed off, but Anny knew just what she was thinking.

"I guess we're here for the long haul."

[Scene Break]

"General, I must protest these orders! To use an assault regiment in this fashion violates every accepted notion of military doctrine!"

Alby Vorsworth watched Colonel Fetherbay. His commander's face was almost completely emotionless, but there was no missing the anger in his voice. He shifted his gaze to General Sylvanus. The former Academy commandant just shook his head and spread his hands.

"You'll get no argument from me, Anthony. I said exactly the same thing to General Vordanov when he briefed me on this, but the orders come all the way from the top. It's the latest 'new plan' to resolve the situation here. You'll notice that I didn't say win." Several of the people in the brigade conference room snorted and Alby had to force himself to stay silent.

"But General," persisted Fetherbay. "an assault regiment is designed for rapid strikes, not long-term occupation duty! Our equipment isn't suited for it and we haven't been trained for it. Surely there must be other troops who can…"

Sylvanus shook his head again and held up his hand, cutting off Fetherbay. "Sorry, Colonel. Yes, there are better suited formations, but they will all be doing exactly the same thing as well." The General paused and touched a control in front of him and brought up a map of Novo Paveo on the main display. Hundreds of small red dots speckled the land masses. "I don't need to tell you gentlemen that for months we've been striking targets all over the planet." He gestured at the dots. "We've killed a lot of people and torn up a lot of real estate, but we haven't made much progress toward winning the war. The people we're killing are mostly local loyalists—or innocent bystanders—and the real estate is just people's homes and businesses. What we are really after, EnBee regulars and their bases, continue to elude us. It might seem incredible that we can't find those bases, but a planet is a hell of a big place and with the proper countermeasures there are thousands of spots a base could be located where you'd never find it unless you happened to fall over it. We have managed to find a few of their smaller installations, but our intelligence boffins are convinced that there are many more, including at least one really big one, and at least 20,000 EnBee personnel still hidden from us."

Sylvanus looked at the officers and frowned. "The high command believes—and I can't really argue with them—that our past strategy of striking at spots where we suspect there is enemy activity and then turning the place over to our local allies is not accomplishing anything. Without our troops there to back them up, the Arfnips very quickly lose their nerve and pull out. In the few cases where they don't run, they usually get wiped out by a Loyalist counterstrike.

"What is needed is for us to establish a long term presence in an area and make sure it is truly and fully pacified before moving on to a new area. But we can't just drop off a platoon here or a company there. Small forces are simply too vulnerable to being attacked and gobbled up piecemeal. We used to do exactly that to the Cetagandans when they were on Barrayar. Some of the other Alliance forces here have learned this same lesson the hard way.

"So the new plan is to commit major formations to seize and hold defensible locations for as long as necessary. Once you've secured a base of operations, we'll move in the supplies and facilities you'll need for an extended stay. I know it's not something that any of us are keen on doing, but those are our orders, gentlemen. Now…" Sylvanus touched the display controls and they zoomed in. "Anthony, you will take the 61st and take this large island. As you can see it is about ten thousand square kilometers and located just off the north coast of the main landmass. It's not all that far from here, actually. Intelligence suspects that a lot of the raids against Araxa that we've experienced may be originating from here. Your orders are to scour the place and dig out every loyalist enclave."

"Yes sir," said Fetherbay.

"Now, Colonel Vorgar, you will take the 26th and…"

An hour later Alby, Fetherbay and the rest of the 61st staff emerged from the meeting. Fetherbay called them all together. "Well, gentlemen, we have our marching orders. Let's get to it."