Chapter 30
Anny woke up in a hospital. It looked like the big one that had been set up on the base near Araxa rather than the one on Tamborete. That made sense, she supposed, the one on Tamborete must have been overwhelmed with all the casualties. She didn't want to think about all those casualties. It was actually hard to think about anything, and her mind and sight kept wandering around without focusing. Fuzzy… drugs, probably. The whole previous week felt like a dream. Her kidnapping, escape, the battle…
Her eyes wandered over to a contraption attached to her left shoulder and then looked down to where her left arm should have been. Okay, so that hadn't been a dream. She vaguely remembered standing on the enemy MPDC and smashing away at it with her war hammer. Dozens of other troopers were around her doing the same thing. Yeah, yeah, she did remember that! The rage and then the incredible exultation once she was actually hurting the thing that had hurt them all so much.
Then the flash of a plasma arc. She hadn't felt anything at all; her left arm just went numb. That was the neural interface at work, blocking the nerve impulses. But all sorts of warning lights had come on in her display. She'd looked down and there was her arm, still clutching the flag, lying on the metal deck of the machine's superstructure. Just like Fetherbay's. It had been a bad moment. Not so much the injury, but the memory of how she'd ended up with that flag. And then she had to make the awful decision of whether to leave the flag lying, or drop her hammer so she could pick it up with her right hand. She really wanted to keep the hammer and bash the enemy some more.
But then the machine had lurched and a fireball had erupted from the rear of it. Someone had hit it where it hurt. That made her decision a lot easier. She'd dropped the hammer and took the flag and hopped down from the vehicle. And then Jer and Patric had been there and then… she was here. She leaned back against her pillow and sighed a long sigh.
She was in a big ward with dozens of beds and they were all filled. Med techs were swarming all around tending people, but she was in her own little bubble of solitude at the moment. It seemed like heaven. Nothing to do, no decisions to be made. No one shooting at her or her men. Peace. Quiet. Heaven.
It couldn't last, of course and eventually one of the techs came over to her. She was surprised to see that the man wasn't a Barrayaran, but from one of the other Alliance contingents. A patch on the shoulder of his tunic could have told her which one, but annoyingly he kept moving around and she couldn't read it. His face had a dark reddish-brown complexion and his accent was just thick enough that in her current drug-fuzz she couldn't catch more than one word in three. But he chattered away, smiling the whole time and she just nodded her head whenever it seemed he had asked a question. He did some things to the gizmo on her shoulder and eventually he went away. She closed her eyes and slept.
The next time she woke, the world seemed a bit less fuzzy. The medical noises and smells were sharper, as were her thoughts—and her pains. She hurt in a lot of different places. Not badly, just twinges here, and aches there. Yup, she was definitely alive.
After a while a medical officer—a Barrayaran this time—approached her. "Good morning, Lieutenant," he said. "How are you feeling?"
"Not too bad, sir." She looked at her shoulder. "Guess I'm going to need some fixing up."
"Yes. You lost the arm about ten centimeters below the shoulder joint. We removed the rest of the humerus. It's a lot simpler to replace the whole arm than to try and attach it to a stump. The device on your shoulder is doing a little on-site regeneration of the surrounding tissue to get you ready for the prosthesis we'll be fitting you with."
"When will that be, sir?"
"A week or two. As you can imagine, we're a bit busy right now with all the critical cases." She looked at the man more closely and could see the dark circles under his eyes. He'd probably been working non-stop for days.
"Yes sir. How… how bad was it, sir?"
The doctor frowned and hesitated. "I imagine you'll get the final figures eventually, Lieutenant. I haven't really seen them myself."
"What's happening out there, sir? Is there still fighting going on?"
"Some. Casualties are still coming in, but nothing like the other day. Looks like it's winding down."
"Did we win?"
The doctor smiled. "That's what I hear, not that they tell me much. I'm sure you'll get the full story eventually. Of course, from the stories circulating, you ought to know more about what happened than anyone."
Stories? Already? Oh dear… "My view was a tad… limited, sir. Uh, when can I get out of here?"
"Another day or so. Normally I'd like to keep you longer, but we need the bed. No duty until we get the prosthesis fitted, of course, and light duty after that."
"Until my new arm is grown?"
"Uh, actually, our regeneration facility is completely overwhelmed at the moment, Lieutenant. That will have to wait until you get home, I'm afraid."
"I see."
"But from the rumors, you'll probably be on your way home pretty soon."
"Really? They're sending the wounded home again?" Anny didn't like the sound of that. Leave Jer behind? The unit?
"Not just the wounded, your whole regiment."
"Oh…"
"But that's just a rumor. I could be wrong." The man looked at her medical monitor and pressed a button. "I can see you're hurting. This should help. I'll come see you again tomorrow." He moved on to the next patient and as he'd promised, most of Anny's pains faded away in just a few minutes. Lunchtime came and she was given actual food. She wasn't particularly hungry, but she forced herself to eat. Her body needed the fuel. Eating with one hand was more awkward than she'd expected and she nearly knocked the whole tray on the floor.
The meal was bland, but the dessert was wonderful. Just as she was finishing, it came walking up in the form of Jer, Alby and Patric. All three of them were grinning and she felt herself smiling, too. Alive! They were alive!
"Howdy, Captain!" cried Alby.
Jer and Patric immediately lost their smiles, as did Anny.
"Uh, I think you've got the wrong patient, Lieutenant," she said.
"Alby! Shut up!" said Patric.
"She's gonna find out sooner or later," said Alby, testily. "Knowing her, probably sooner."
"Find out what?"
Jer sighed. "They posted a new organization chart this morning. To fill in all the… holes."
"Oh."
"You've been brevetted captain of C Company."
Anny was silent for a long moment. "Is there any C Company left for me to be captain of?"
The threesome looked at each other awkwardly. Finally Jer said: "None of the companies are much more than a corporal's guard at this point, Anny. But a lot of men will be returning from the hospital soon."
"How many? Did they post what our losses were?"
"No, not yet. It was just a new organization chart from regimental down to company level. No figures on the rank and file or junior grade officers."
"Who's commanding the regiment?" She knew it wasn't Fetherbay.
"The ranking officer still on duty was Captain Vorjanis, the adjutant," said Alby. "But General Vordanov appointed one of his staff officers, Major Berg, to take over temporarily."
"Damn it," said Jer, "we just came to see how you're doing, Anny; we didn't want to… bother you with any of this. Not yet." He scowled at Alby.
"Well, I would have been worrying about it if you hadn't told me, so never mind. But I'm fine. They say I can get out of here tomorrow or the next day."
"That's great!" said Alby.
"That soon?" asked Jer, concerned. "You were… hurt pretty bad."
"This?" she said waving at her shoulder with her right hand. "Just a scratch, they tell me. They want me out of here to make room for the real wounded." She smiled.
"Anny!"
"Just a joke. Not a very funny one, I guess, is it? Well, in any case, they will be kicking me out. No duty until I have a prosthesis. They say about a week for that."
"The ones they have these days are really good, I hear," said Alby. "Almost like a real arm."
"And they'll be growing you a new one, right?" asked Patric.
"Sure, but not until we get home. I'm hearing rumors that they are sending us home. Any of you know anything about that?"
"That's what we hear," said Alby. "With the fighting nearly over, they don't need to wait for a new regiment to replace us."
"The fighting's over?"
"Pretty much. The EnBees threw everything they had left into their surprise attack. When we crushed it, that pretty well broke their back. I heard there are some negotiations going on right now."
"Well, that's good. I… I think I've had enough of Novo Paveo."
"It will be nice to get home," said Patric.
Anny looked at her three friends and smiled. Home. Home alive. How many weren't coming home alive? She couldn't bear to ask and she knew they probably wouldn't tell her if she did. She'd find out later, but for right now…
She held out her hand and one by one they took it and squeezed. Jer waited until last and she pulled him closer and kissed him.
Apparently that sent up a signal, because almost immediately a tech appeared and shooed them all away so he could do something to the contraption on her shoulder. They said good-bye and departed. She wanted them to stay, but she was getting very sleepy again. The damn tech must have given her something…
She woke up again in the late afternoon and was surprised and delighted to find Chris Tropio sitting next to her bed. "Hi!" she said.
"Hi Anny, how are you?" Chris looked… exhausted. Her red-rimmed eyes peered at her out of dark sockets.
"I'm okay. But how are you?"
"Fine."
"No you're not. You need to get some rest!"
"Been ordered to. On my way. They pulled us all out of Milagres and sent us back here. Slept some on the shuttle. Just thought I'd stop in and check on your for a minute. Heard you'd been hurt." Chris was staring at her with an odd expression. No, not staring at her, staring off at something Anny couldn't see.
"Chris?" She had to say her name twice before it yanked her back from wherever she'd been. The woman sat there, shuddering slightly. Then she swallowed and words started pouring out of her.
"We… we ran out of cryo pods after the first hour," she said, her voice a monotone. "After that… after that we left the ones who's suits had frozen them as they were. We don't like to do that, but there was nothing else we could do for them. But… but the ones who's suits were wrecked, the cryo mechanism wrecked, but they were still alive… We got them out and did what we could, but there were so many of them. We couldn't evacuate any; no shuttles flying. The doctors, the auto-surgeons did what they could, but there were so many, Anny. We never thought… we never expected…"
"Chris…" she reached out with her hand and the woman took it, squeezing hard, but she still wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Some of them… some of them were hurt so bad. We pumped them full of pain killers, so they didn't suffer too much, but… I sat with some of them when they gave me a break. Didn't get many breaks, but when we did, I sat with them. I held their hands—the ones that still had hands. Some of them held on so tight. It was like… it was like if they held on to me I could keep them from sliding away into the dark. I tried… I tried…" Suddenly she was sobbing and she buried her face in the blankets covering Anny.
"Chris… oh God, Chris…" The woman had released her hand and Anny gently stroked Chris' hair. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
After a minute Tropio stopped crying, sat up, and scrubbed away the tears. "Sorry, sorry, I was supposed to be consoling you…" She took a deep breath and finally looked into her eyes.
"It's all right," said Anny, even though she knew it wasn't.
"Gotta go," she said, standing up. "I'll come see you again later."
"Okay. See you," she said, but Chris was already walking away.
Anny lay there, staring at nothing for a long time. Remembering the horrors she had seen—imagining the horrors Chris must have seen. They fed her again, and eventually she slept.
The next day, the doctor visited her again and seemed satisfied with her progress, and he confirmed that they would let her return to quarters that day. What quarters? My quarters were burned to the ground last I saw. Some technicians carefully removed the device on her shoulder and bandaged it up. They gave her all sorts of instructions about things she shouldn't attempt to do, most of which she wouldn't have thought about doing even with two good arms. Then they left her and she waited to be released. Waited and waited. If she'd had any clothes she would have just left, but she only had a patient's gown, so she was stuck there. With nothing to do but think.
Brevet captain, I wonder if they'll let me keep that? Brevet promotions were temporary things, allowing people to fill temporary holes in the table of organization. Depending on the circumstances sometimes you were allowed to wear the rank, sometimes you even got the pay.
And sometimes you got to keep it all permanently. She remembered the officers back at Fort Vorolson who had held brevet ranks for years until they were finally confirmed as permanent.
Anny could only guess at what might happen in her case. The hole she was filling wasn't temporary. Captain Vorstang wasn't going to be coming back any time soon. Nor Lieutenant Dahlberg. They'd need a permanent replacement for this hole—and all the others. They might transfer someone in from another unit. Yes, that could certainly happen; it wasn't like there was a big war going on with a hundred regiments desperate to fill holes. There would be plenty of eager men with political pull to try and fill the gaps in the 61st;; they didn't need to necessarily fill them from inside the regiment. And she was less than two years out of the Academy. The medal she'd won during the fire had already bumped her one rank. Most of her classmates were still ensigns. They weren't likely to want a twenty-five year old, female captain. Yeah, don't get cocky, girl; you'll probably be a lieutenant again as soon as we reach home.
Eventually, after several hours, a soldier arrived, carrying a bundle of clothes. She recognized him as a man from C Company, but he was from one of the other platoons and she couldn't remember his name. He stopped in front of her bed and saluted, even though she wasn't in uniform. "Afternoon, Captain," he said. "Brought you some stuff and I'm supposed to take you to your quarters when you're ready."
"Thank you, Private…"
"Bjorlin, sir. Second Platoon."
"Ah yes. How are you doing, Private?"
"By the looks of it, better than you, sir, but all things considered, not too bad, I guess. Damn lucky to still have all my original parts." He glanced toward her shoulder and then all around the ward at the other patients. He held out the bundle of clothes, black fatigues by the looks of them. "You gonna be able to get into these on your own, sir?"
"I guess we'll find out." She took the bundle in the crook of her arm and eased herself out of the bed. She'd been out a few times that day, making trips to the rest room. She headed there now, with Bjorlin tagging along. "I'll call if I need help," she said as she closed the door.
Getting out of the gown was no problem, but dressing herself one-handed proved a… challenge. Underwear, trousers, socks and boots she managed without too much difficulty, but the bra (where had Bjorlin gotten that?) proved impossible. The shirt was awkward, and she found herself turning in circles, pursuing the flapping left side of the tunic, trying to grab it and pull it closed and seal the fasteners. Someone had gone to the trouble of pinning up the left sleeves on both the shirt and the tunic. She finally accomplished it and then had to sit down on the commode to catch her breath.
"You okay, Captain?" came Bjorlin's voice through the door.
"Fine, fine, give me a minute."
"Yes, sir."
She noticed that the tunic sported two blue captain's collar tabs, so someone was taking this brevet business seriously. She put on the cap and managed to get it straight and then opened the door. Bjorlin was waiting along with a med tech who gave her a container of pills with instructions for their use and a form she had to sign to officially be turned loose. Done with that, she followed Bjorlin out of the building.
It was a lovely day outside; blue skies, pleasant breeze, sea birds wheeling overhead and dodging the flocks of shuttles that were coming and going. The base seemed incredibly busy, with troops and vehicles everywhere. Bjorlin muttered something about a day late and a mark short. The Private set out at a brisk pace, but Anny, after a minute, realized she couldn't match it and slowed down. He noticed immediately and stopped to let her catch up. "Sorry, sir," he said. "Wasn't thinking."
"It's all right. Have to pace myself for a day or two, I guess. How… how's the company, Private?"
Bjorlin eyed her and his mouth twisted up on one side; not a smile, certainly. "Hard to say, sir," he answered eventually. "The boys haven't… I haven't… well, I don't think anyone's gone through what we did the other day. Not for a long time, anyway. I think most of us are still trying to sort through it all, try to make some sense of it." He shook his head. "That and try to get used to all the empty bunks."
"How many are left?" She didn't want to know. She really didn't want to know, but she had to.
"There were twenty-six of us at roll call this morning, sir. Though we're told five will be back from hospital tomorrow. Plus you and the First Sergeant, that will make thirty-three."
"First Sergeant Nikolaidis lives, does he? Then so does C Company." She hadn't seen Nikolaidis since just before… before the charge. She hadn't been sure if he'd made it.
"Yes, sir. We were all right glad to see him, too. His armor got shot all to hell, but he came out without a scratch."
"Good," she said automatically. But thirty-three was a pitifully small number. A full strength company had almost 200 men, including all the staff. Almost eighty percent casualties. "What about Ensigns Vorstuban and Milroy?"
"Oh, they brevetted Vorstuban to lieutenant and gave him command of B Company, sir. They didn't have no officers at all."
"And Milroy?"
"Still in the hospital, sir, but they say he ought to be back in a week or so."
"Good, that's good."
Bjorlin fell silent and she didn't ask anything more. Yeah, it was going to take everyone a while to sort things out. They were going to have to keep a close watch on all the survivors, make sure they weren't going to crack up. Who's going to be watching out for you, girl?
They reached a batch of living modules and Bjorlin led her to one that had a sign on one of the doors with her name on it. It was a standard set of quarters for a company commander, but it was almost completely empty. "I'll try and get a kit together for you, sir." She looked at him and he blushed. "The Sarge has sort of assigned me to you as a temporary dog-robber. If you don't mind, of course."
"No, that's fine. I could use an extra hand." She grinned and after a moment Bjorlin barked out a laugh.
"Good one, sir."
"No it wasn't, private, but it was still worth a laugh."
"Yes, sir. Will you be needing me for anything more right now, sir? Maybe you should just rest. I can start getting some stuff for you in the meantime."
"All right. That would be fine." Bjorlin saluted and left and Anny sat down on the bunk. She was feeling very tired, suddenly. She took off her cap and lay on the bunk and was asleep without even taking her boots off.
[Scene Break]
"Men of the 61st Imperial Infantry! I have assembled you here to pay tribute to your remarkable heroism!"
Alby Vorsworth stood with the remains of the regimental staff, to the right and rear of Major Burg, and listened to the speech of General Vordanov. It was a nice speech, he supposed, and sincerely given—and richly deserved—but he could take little pleasure in it. It wasn't for him, surely not for him. He hadn't been there. He'd been a hundred klicks away, far from the battle; safe. Not by choice, maybe, but that didn't change the fact that he hadn't been there.
He was glad he was out in front where he wouldn't have to look at the tragically shrunken ranks of the Regiment. Regiment! There were scarcely enough left to fill out two companies! Many times their number surrounded them on the huge landing field of the Araxa base. Contingents from all the Alliance forces had assembled to honor the Barrayarans. It had been five days since the battle; the fleet had returned and the last of the EnBee forces were being mopped up. From what Alby had heard, the commander of those forces was ready to capitulate, pull out of Novo Paveo and leave the locals to govern their own affairs. The Nuevo Brasilian naval forces lurking out by the wormhole had been contacted to see if they could provide transport. The 61st would be going home in a few weeks and they would probably be followed by most of the rest before much longer. The war appeared to be over.
Vordanov finished up his remarks, but naturally, the other commanders couldn't let him have the only word and a half dozen other prominent officers and diplomats all had their own say. Most were nearly as complimentary of the 61st as Vordanov had been, although one could easily have wondered if the Cetagandan commander had gotten this ceremony mixed up with some other one considering how little his remarks seemed to have anything to do with the matter at hand.
As things dragged on, Alby did force himself to glance back from time to time. There was Anny in front of her tiny company, the left arm of her dress greens folded and pinned up against the shoulder of her tunic. She was supposed to get her prosthesis soon. Hopefully before they packed everyone on a ship headed home.
The speakers finally shut up and the assembled Alliance forces did a pass in review for the 61st. Alby had been to a lot of reviews, but he'd never been to one where the reviewers were a whole regiment. Well, not a whole regiment… But still, it was unique and a bit satisfying. At least the 61st was getting recognized for what it had done. Won the damn war is what they did!
But finally it was all over and they were dismissed. They had no duty for the rest of the day so Alby headed off to meet up with Izabella Cresswell-Jones. She had come back with the rest of the fleet and they'd set up a rendezvous. He found her easily enough and they smiled at each other, but by some unspoken agreement, they did nothing more than touch hands briefly. "Good to see you," said Alby.
"And you," she replied. "How… are you?"
"Me? Oh, fine, of course. Why wouldn't I be fine? It's not like I was ever in any danger or anything."
Izabella looked at him and pursed her lips. "And you feel guilty about it?"
"Guilty? Why would I feel guilty? Just because all my comrades, all my friends, were being blown to atoms and there wasn't a friggin' thing I could do about it?"
The woman snorted. "I've seen some of the debriefs and AARs, Alby, and I know damn well that you did quite a lot! And how do you think I felt? I was the one who couldn't do a frigging thing! Half-way across the solar system, totally decoyed, worried to death about you and you're friends—who are my friends, too, you might recall! I'm the one who has a right to feel guilty! So stop feeling sorry for yourself!"
Alby rocked back at the anger in Izabella's voice. He had been feeling sorry for himself and there hadn't been anyone else he dared vent to. He'd never realized… "Sorry… that was stupid."
"Yes it was! You might not have been in the front lines, but at least you were right here! Doing things! Every damn thing that was coming through to us was already hours old! I thought I was used to the intelligence lag that light-speed imposes, but I never had to wait to find out if someone I cared about was alive or dead before. That makes everything… different."
"I… I guess it would. I remember when Jer told me about how it felt when he was in exactly the same situation back at Dounby. I just never thought…"
"Obviously!"
"Okay! Okay! I'll stop feeling guilty, if you will! It's just that so many of us got killed or wounded and I never got a scratch and…"
"Alby, if you don't shut up about it, I'm gonna add you to that casualty list and solve your guilt problem!" She clenched her fist and thumped it into the palm of her hand and scowled menacingly.
It was so ridiculous he couldn't keep from laughing and after a moment she did, too. "All right!" he chuckled. "Truce?"
"Truce. And it's not like you have anything to feel guilty about. Most of the intel people in the fleet are talking about how you managed to piece the EnBee plan together and give enough warning to avoid a complete disaster."
"I thought we weren't going to talk about this anymore…"
"No, you're not going to talk about it anymore. I can talk about it as much as I want. That was some truly good work, by the way. Hell you're a hero, Alby."
Now Alby snorted. "Not really. If you want to look at a real hero, we can go find Anny. You've heard about what she did, haven't you?"
"Impossible not to; everyone's talking about that."
As they should! If she doesn't get a Vorbarra Cross out of this, there ain't no justice!"
"And a Vorbarra Cross is…?"
"Barrayar's highest military decoration, bestowed by the Emperor, himself. They are not given out very often and it usually takes something really extraordinary—and usually fatal—to get one. But if anyone deserves one, it's her."
"Well, I hope she gets it then."
"I mean she's already got the Medal for Conspicuous Gallantry, that's number two on the list, but still…"
"You really admire her, don't you?"
"Hell, yes."
"A shame she's already got a boyfriend."
Alby did a double-take and then punched her lightly in the shoulder. "Message received. I'll shut up. Now let's catch a bus down to the shore. I want to see the tide come in one more time before we go."
[Scene Break]
"How does it feel?" asked Jer, looking at Anny's new prosthetic arm. She had her tunic on so he could only see the hand and the general shape. It didn't look quite… right.
"It feels pretty good." she said, lifting the hand and putting the arm through a series of motions. "I don't have to operate it or drive it in any way; it moves just like it were my real arm."
"Sort of like our armor?"
"Exactly like our armor. There's even a neural interface. A much smaller and dumber version, of course. They implanted a little chip in my skull and it handles all the nerve impulses going in and out. I have a sense of touch, kinesthetic awareness, the whole works. I can even call up a little control display that pops up in my vision—just like our armor—to make minor adjustments if I want."
"So it's just like your real arm."
"Almost. This one's a bit heavier than a real arm—all the stuff inside, I guess—so the extra mass takes a little getting used to. And they inserted some additional artificial musculature in my shoulder and chest and back to help move it around. That's a little weird; I can feel them under my skin." She held up the hand again and sighed. "And, of course, the thing was designed for a man." She put the artificial hand next to her real hand and it was noticeably larger. The whole arm looked a bit large, actually. "They gave me one of the smaller ones they had in stock and it's only about two centimeters longer than it ought to be, but noticeably bulkier. Well, I can put up with it until we can get home and I can get my own back. Of course, I'm right-handed, so I'm using my real hand for most detailed work anyway, but I couldn't believe how inconvenient it was to only have one hand!"
Jer gingerly took the prosthetic hand in his own. "It's warm. Feels… almost like real skin."
"Yeah, it's pretty amazing."
"Uh, you can't accidentally crush my hand with this thing can you?"
"Accidentally? No, there are built-in safety features. But if I disabled them, then yeah, I could probably break your hand. This thing is pretty strong."
"Well, be careful, okay?"
"Absolutely." She gently stroked his face—with the fake hand. "God, I'm so glad you're okay," she breathed. "I was so worried."
"So was I—about you, I mean. When I saw you there… at the end… I was certain I was gonna lose you. That was totally crazy, you know."
"Yeah, I guess it was. Didn't seem like there were any good choices so…"
"So you took the worst one possible?"
"The worst one would have been to do nothing—and get killed anyway."
"Yeah, I guess. Anny…" Jer paused and looked away. He had to tell her, but he didn't want to. It had been eating at him and he had to let it out.
"What?" She pulled his face around and stared. "What's wrong?"
"At the end there, just before you went crazy, I was… I was going to run. I was so scared. I was going to try and grab you and run." He held his breath. What would she think of him now?
She looked at him for a long time and then said: "So was I."
"What? You?"
"Yes, me." Now she looked away. "I was scared, too. Everyone was dying and there didn't seem to be anything we could do. I was getting ready to run. Hell, I was going to order what remained of 1st Battalion to run, too. I was that close. But then… I saw what the Colonel did and… and, yeah, it was just like you said; I went crazy. I know what I did, but it still feels like it was somebody else controlling my body." She paused and looked startled. "Do you suppose…?"
"What?"
"The neural interface. Remember how on Dounby I was able to take control of Zak's armor? What if… what if higher headquarters could take control of our armor? Make us fight to the death even when we want to run?"
Now Jer was startled. "That's… terrifying. Do you… do you think that's what happened?"
Anny was quiet for a while, but then she shook her head. "No… No, it was me. I made the decision, no one else. But it still felt so strange. I wanted to run, but instead I charged." She looked closely at him. "You wanted to run, but you charged, too, Jer."
"After you!"
"We're all charging after something. A person, a flag, our duty. Something."
"And thus are heroes made," snorted Jer.
"So it seems. Whether we like it or not."
Jer looked at Anny's face. He knew she was embarrassed by all the stories circulating among the men. "You'll just have to learn to live with it, Anny." He smiled.
"As will you, Love."
"What?"
"I noticed you haven't said a single word about it, but you were the one who destroyed the MPDC."
"Who told you that?" asked Jer, startled.
"They've started downloading the records out of our armor. I was at a meeting with Major Berg and all the company commanders yesterday. They want to put together a very detailed after-action report. I'm afraid that this battle, being the first big one in a long, long time, is going to become an instant classic. They've already discovered that your mine started the fire that finished things."
"Oh."
"That was a good, job, Jer, a real good job."
"It was Shusterman's idea to get underneath it. He should get the credit."
"I believe our old friend, Lieutenant Vorkerkas, pointed that out at the meeting. Didn't seem to make much of an impression on the others, as I recall. How are you getting along with him?" Jer frowned; Vorkerkas was now in command of H Company—at least until Captain Andronov could return to duty and that wasn't going to be any time soon.
"All right, I guess. He's being real careful around me and real careful not to say anything bad about you. I don't think I ever told you about how the other officers were ready to hand him his head during the search for you."
"No, I'm pretty sure you didn't," said Anny, her eyebrows going up. "I'd have remembered that."
"Oh, he was mouthing off as usual and the other's all pretty much told him to shut up. If I hadn't been so worried about you, I would have been laughing for a week. Anyway, he's not saying much of anything these days. Not that there's anyone to say anything to—the officers' mess is practically deserted."
"Yeah…"
"And there's no official duty that throws us together. They don't plan to re-equip us before we leave, so there's practically nothing to do. Except work on our individual AARs. And write letters."
"Yeah… yeah, I've got a lot of those to write," said Anny glumly. Jer nodded. He had a dozen to write to the families of his platoon's dead, but Anny had a whole lot more for all of C Company.
"Well, we'll have four months to do all of those on the trip home." He paused and frowned. "Of course I ought to have even more than you, but that order from Brigadier Sylvanus said it wasn't our responsibility."
"Your militia company," said Anny very softly. She reached out with her real hand and took his. "I'm so sorry about that, Jer."
He took a deep breath and sighed. "We were trying to keep them out of the heavy action—they just weren't equipped for anything like that. And instead we put them right on the bulls-eye!"
"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't really anyone's fault."
"They shouldn't have been there in the first place!"
"No, probably not, but what else could we have done? We were outnumbered almost four to one, not even counting the MPDC. If the militia companies killed one EnBee, drew one shot of EnBee fire away from the 61st, it might have contributed to our victory. It's a hard thing, Jer, but that's war."
"Yeah, I guess. But it was just the way they died. Wiped out at one blow like that! They didn't even have a chance to run!"
"No. Thank God most of the other militia did run before things got so bad. I didn't see any of them around at the end. They would have been slaughtered for no reason at all at that point."
They were silent for a while, but neither one of them let go of the other's hand.
"So do you think it was worth it?" asked Jer, finally.
Anny was a long time answering.
"Ask me again in a few years."
[Scene Break]
"And this is the cell where you were held?"
Ivan Vorpatril glanced through the open door and then nodded. "Yes, sir, I think so. Of course all these cells look alike." General Vordanov looked to Anny Payne.
"Captain?"
"Yes sir, fourth one from the end," replied Payne confidently. "When we were brought back from our tour of the base, I counted the doors."
"I see. And aside from that tour, you never left the cell until you made your escape?"
"No sir."
"And all three of you were in this cell for over a week?"
"Yes, sir. We didn't have any way to measure the passage of time, so it seemed a lot longer."
"I can imagine. Must have been a bit awkward in such close quarters"
"We managed, sir."
"Yes, of course. And the boy was there, and you suspected the EnBees had surveillance devices in the cell."
"Yes sir."
Vordanov gave Ivan a peculiar look and then moved on. Ivan frowned. What does he think? That Payne and I were carrying on together? Hell I'm a happily married man now! And we had other things to worry about! He took hold of Tej's hand and squeezed.
He supposed he should have expected this inspection of the EnBee base; there were lots of things of interest here and military intelligence and ImpSec were both going to want to know exactly what happened. But he hadn't expected it to be such a circus. There must have been fifty people tagging along, including representatives from most of the Alliance worlds. They had started that morning at the remains of the school, and with all the questions they had, this would probably take all day. He had no desire at all to relive this, but there was no choice.
"And you say that once the mercenary scout got you out of the cell, you were nearly recaptured by the Da Silva woman?" asked an ImpSec colonel. "A civilian? Rather careless wasn't that?"
"I suppose it was, sir," replied Payne. "Although I've come to believe that Da Silva wasn't really a civilian."
"No, obviously not," continued the colonel. "And how she managed to conceal that from a fast penta interrogation I can't imagine. Quite a foul-up with military intelligence, wouldn't you say?"
Vordanov cleared his throat noisily. "We've already discussed that—at length—colonel. We're here to determine the sequence of events after they were captured. Now can we continue?"
"Of course, General," said the man smugly.
"So, you managed to stun Da Silva…"
"Paulo, the boy, stunned her, sir. We were very fortunate he was along and that Da Silva didn't consider him a threat."
Ivan remembered what was going on during those awful few seconds and he clenched his hand around Tej's. She looked up at him and whispered: "What?"
He leaned down and whispered back: "We knew we had to escape. Anny was going to throw herself on Da Silva's nerve disruptor to give me the chance to jump her. Thank God for the kid!"
"My God…" Tej looked horrified and stared at Payne, shaking her head.
The tour continued and they trooped along corridors and up and down stairs. They pointed out the first power conduit that Anny had blasted. "Where did you get the plasma arc, Captain? You said you only had gotten stunners and a nerve disruptor from Da Silva and the guards."
"Oh, that's right, I forgot, sir," said Payne. "Back in that last stair tower, we bumped into four or five EnBees. We knocked them out and took their weapons."
"Knocked them out with the stunners?"
"Uh…"
"She knocked them out with her hands and feet, General," said Ivan. "She's really very good at close combat."
"I see…"
"After that, we went down here," continued Payne hastily. "But by then the alarm had been given—our firing must have alerted them. We had to retreat up this way." More stairs and then finally they were back in that last corridor. The hole blasted through the side of the mountain had been enlarged a bit since that day and some new lights put up. Anny explained about shooting the second power conduit and how that had disabled the EnBee sensor and communications dampers.
"And then, Lieutenant, you blew that escape route with nothing to guide your fire but the readings on the mercenary's communicator?"
"Uh, yes, sir," said Jer Naddel. "It was a tricky shot." Not the least because you were aiming about ten meters from where your girl was trapped! reflected Ivan. And me!
"But you pulled it off. Damn fine shooting, son!" said Admiral Vorburke.
"Thank you, sir."
"And from here you managed to get out and board the rescue shuttle," stated Vordanov.
"Yes, sir," replied Payne.
"Very good. Let us follow the same route and get out of here."
"Amen to that," muttered Ivan.
Instead of having to crawl and squeeze through the jagged opening, they could just walk out and board the shuttles that were waiting. They took off and circled around the cone of the volcano. One side of it had been blown out almost completely. "That's where the enemy MPDC debouched," said a staff officer, pointing. Ivan looked on with far more interest now. This was the part of the story he had missed, or only seen through sanitized tactical displays back at Araxa.
The reality was considerably messier. A trail of destruction many kilometers wide led away from the volcano. Dozens, hundreds of wrecked vehicles dotted the landscape, a few of them still giving off wisps of smoke even two weeks after the fight. The shuttles dipped down here or there to look at spots of interest. Fortunately, even though the vehicles were still there, the bodies had all been recovered. Or most of them anyway. Ivan was quite certain that bits and pieces of them would be found for years to come.
They landed, for a few minutes, on the hill that had been obliterated by the EnBee grav lance. It was now an absolutely flat plateau. The surface had an odd, glittery look to it and it crunched slightly underfoot. Ivan noticed that Lieutenant Naddel had moved off, away from the crowd, and knelt down with head bowed. Anny Payne was next to him with her hand on his shoulder.
Then it was back into the air. The trail of destruction was getting narrower. The opposing forces had shrunk and shrunk until they converged just north of the town of Milagres. The burned and blackened remains of the MPDC sat on a low hill. They circled it and then landed again, just to the south. The mob debarked and looked around. General Vordanov was consulting with an aide who held a computer pad and was pointing out various holes and craters in the ground. Vordanov beckoned Payne over to him.
"So, Captain, the records indicate that just prior to the charge, you were here, correct?"
Payne looked around and then said: "If you say so, sir. If not here, then somewhere close by. I was in a crater with Ensign Vorstuban."
"Doing what?" asked one of the other officers.
"Trying not to get killed, sir." This produced a few chuckles, but Payne wasn't smiling.
"And then you saw Colonel Fetherbay moving across your front? Toward the regimental banner?"
"Actually, we, that is, Ensign Vorstuban, saw another man waving the flag. When he was hit, that's when we saw Colonel Fetherbay."
"He was alone?"
"Yes, sir."
They walked forward toward another crater. The ground was so torn up the footing was treacherous. Ivan held on to Tej to keep them both upright. "And Fetherbay was here?"
"I think so, sir," said Payne. "It's hard to be sure."
"We, uh, found remains that confirm that this is the location, sir," said Vordanov's aide.
"I see. So when Colonel Fetherbay became a casualty, you came forward, took the flag, and continued up the hill to where the enemy MPDC was situated?"
"Yes sir."
They retraced her steps. It was quite a distance and all uphill. Ivan was sweating and puffing by the time they reached the top. Some of the older officers were lagging far behind. But despite the heat, Ivan shivered when he saw the metal colossus towering over him. My God! Look at the size of that thing! It hadn't looked nearly so large from the catwalk back in the volcano. He couldn't imagine anyone trying to attack something like this—let alone winning.
"And once you and the others penetrated the shields, you did what damage you could until Lieutenant Naddel destroyed it with his mine?" asked Vordanov.
"Sergeant Shusterman, my platoon sergeant, and I set out together, sir" said Naddel firmly. "I made it, he didn't. It could have just as easily been the other way round."
"Yes, of course, Lieutenant," said Vordanov, nodding.
A sweating officer from one of the Alliance navies suddenly said: "You managed to take this out by assault in short order. A shame someone didn't think of doing it earlier, isn't it? You could have saved a lot of lives."
There was a long silence before Vordanov finally replied. "Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, Commodore. Easy for us to criticize now, but it wouldn't have been nearly so clear at the time."
"General, I wasn't criti…"
"I'll remind you that the MPDC wasn't committed immediately; the 61st had already done a lot of hard fighting and taken heavy casualties before this monster even arrived."
"I know…"
"And the EnBee brigade was there specifically to provide protection for it."
"But…"
"And we should further note that it took nearly four hundred men, attacking all at once, to do the job—and half of them became casualties in the doing. Several attempts with smaller numbers had already failed."
"I know that, but…"
"And finally, Colonel Fetherbay had been ordered to buy time for the rest of us. He and his men did that brilliantly. If he had sent in four hundred men earlier in the battle and it had failed, his defense might have collapsed right there. That could have led to disaster for all of us." He glared at the man, who finally shut up.
"Still," said another man, "it really is rather remarkable. Infantry taking on a thing like this with only personal weapons. I wish I could have been here to see you lead that charge, Captain Payne."
Anny Payne's face was completely blank when she answered. "Excuse me, sir, but I didn't lead the charge."
"What? But the reports clearly show that you…"
"Colonel Fetherbay led the charge, sir."
"But I understood that he was already…"
"Colonel Fetherbay led the charge, sir. I just followed him and carried the flag for him. Everyone else followed him, too. I was here sir, and that's how it was."
There was an expression on her face now and it brooked no argument.
"Indeed?" said Vordanov. He turned to his aide. "Make a note of that, Pavel; we'll have to amend our report."
[Scene Break]
"Good bye, Paulo, I'll miss you." Anny squatted down and gave the boy a hug.
"Anny, do you really have to go?" The lad was nearly in tears.
"Yes, I have orders to go. I'm a soldier and soldiers have to follow orders. And I've been away from my home for a very long time. I want to see it again."
"But who… who will protect us now?"
Anny stood up, glanced at Jer, glanced at Paulo's mother and sister, glanced at the rubble in the street. Milagres had not been flattened, but it had not been completely spared by the battle, either. "The war is over, Paulo. The EnBees have all gone. You and your family will be safe now."
Would they? She sure hoped so. By all indications, the EnBees really had given up. Heavily escorted ships had been allowed to approach the planet and pick up the thousands of troops who had surrendered plus thousands more of their supporters who dared not stay behind. She sincerely hoped that Ines Da Silva was among them. In spite of all that had happened she really couldn't wish the woman dead—nor did she like the thought of her still lurking around. No trace of her had been found on Tamborete after the battle.
Sadly, the EnBees were not the only ones that Paulo need fear. The revolutionary government and their Arfnip troops had taken control of Tamborete. She'd seen what they were capable of. Anny and Jer, indeed all the 61st survivors, had made a great deal publicly about the gallant actions and sacrifices of the militia during the fighting and the unflinching loyalty of the local people. A lot of it was exaggeration, but she hoped it would spare the people here any sort of abuse or retribution by the Arfnips. The Alliance was leaving a covering force to make sure the EnBees didn't come back and they were supposed to keep an eye on what the government here was up to as well. She sure hoped they would do a good job.
Paulo was crying now, but Anny thought she knew how to cure that. "You know, Paulo, my general thought you were very, very brave when you helped us get away from the EnBees."
"Really?" he said, sniffling and looking interested.
"Yes, and he asked me to give you this." She pulled a medal out of her pocket and held it up. The boy's eyes sparkled. She wished it could have been one of her own, but they had all been burned up. She'd managed to get this from the post-exchange on the base. She squatted down again and pinned it to the boy's shirt.
"It's really mine?"
"It's really yours." She stood up and saluted him. "Congratulations, Paulo." He gave a squeal of glee and hugged her. They spent a few more minutes saying their good-byes. Paulo's mother gave Anny a shawl that she had made herself. It was really very pretty. Anny thanked her and draped it over her artificial arm.
They finally broke away and headed for their shuttle.
"Ready?" asked Jer.
"Yes. Let's go home."