Элизабет Мун - Into the Fire

“Yes, Commandant. The—the dead are over here, if you—”

“Of course.” Ky looked at the row of bodies laid out neatly. She had known they would lose some; each deserved recognition and respect. “I’ll call for transport.” She leaned over each, naming the cadet and murmuring a Modulan prayer for their soul’s passage. “I’m relieving all the cadet units; get them back to the Academy and we’ll hold a brief assembly first of all. I know they’re tired and hungry, but they need to know their effort is recognized and their sacrifices honored. I will need a list of all your casualties to read out to the assembled cadets.”

By noon, she had spoken to the assembly, naming each of the dead and wounded. Looking out at the solemn faces—now edged with a maturity they had not shown before—she thought how different their experience was from her own first encounter with violent death. “And all of you—every class—showed that you are in fact qualified to be future officers. I am honored to be your Commandant.” When dismissed, they marched out heads high, but she knew there would be a backlash in the next day or so. Well, she had resources for them that she’d lacked for herself.

In the meantime, she had the evidence she needed to report certain faculty members to General Molosay as conspirators, and she had the report on Colonel Bohannon’s attack and death to file. Eventually there’d be an official investigation. Writing and filing reports took up the rest of her day.

Over at the government center, workers were still digging bodies out of the snow—none of her force, at least—and the regular troops reported sporadic firing and resistance in the business district. All the buildings had damage. But none of the government officials had been hurt—a fair trade, Ky thought.

At the harbor, a Quindlan ship had sailed from the south docks before dawn, and was making good time eastward, apparently bound for the west coast of Voruksland. By report it was carrying farm machinery and other manufactured goods; the manifest and course had been certified the day before. Ky suspected that was a lie, but Voruksland had been notified; they would deal with it when it arrived. Other ships had left even earlier, their captains declaring it was safer at sea in a blizzard than in a harbor under attack, so the Quindlan ship’s departure didn’t raise any questions.

Stella, Rafe, and Grace all reported in by midafternoon, to Ky’s relief, though she had little time to talk to them. The Academy needed all her attention now that Molosay had officially relieved her of her task of protecting the government.

Four days later, it was certain that a general uprising had been avoided. The survivors from Miksland had been interviewed repeatedly as they recovered, and they had expressed such anger at the treatment they’d received from those trying to keep Miksland secret that public sympathy turned hard against the insurgents. Fighting in the cities of Dorland and Fulland had lasted a couple of days, but it was clear that the Unionists outnumbered the Separatists. Traitors, they were now called. The governors of every continent and province declared full confidence in the planetary government and allegiance to it. Dorland’s pointed out that they’d prospered much more after the Unification than before it. Sporadic raids by Separatists over the next day had been met with blunt words and gunfire by the rural population, and on the fourth day, the last Separatist group surrendered to the chief of a fishing village.

One immediate effect of the new stability was Immigration immediately crediting Ky with the required half-year residency for her time on Miksland, expediting all her paperwork, and converting Rafe’s visa to permanent residence as long as Ky vouched for him. Teague’s visa was extended for another half year.

Rafe called with that news and asked if she would be coming to the Vatta house anytime soon.

“Not yet,” Ky said. “The cadet corps is still unsettled—” The aftermath of combat had caught up with several of the cadets. “They need me.” She paused; the silence on the com deepened. “And I need you. The Commandant’s Residence isn’t as big or fancy as that house, but it’s bigger than a spaceship.”

“Won’t that cause a problem?”

“I won’t let it,” Ky said.

“I love it when you sound commanding,” Rafe said. “Two hours?”

“I’ll notify the gate. You’ll be escorted to the guest suite. I’ll be on the drill field then, discussing the condition of the turf and how it’s going to be fixed by graduation.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Those tracked earthmovers we borrowed from the Joint Services base. Frozen ground or no, they claim the gouges are so deep the turf can’t possibly be repaired by graduation. I suspect it can, but the groundsmen want me to be amazed when they accomplish it.”

That night, Rafe and Ky relaxed in the office adjoining her bedroom, talking as they had not since returning from Corleigh. When no interruptions had come for a full hour and a half, Ky led the way into her suite. Rafe stopped short, staring at the bed. “What in the world?”

“The insignia of each branch. Hand-carved, not molded. It’s old, from when the Academy was founded. It’s considered irreplaceable, so we’d best not damage it.”

“And all those coms on the bedside—that’s the side you sleep on?”

“Yes. The three colors are important. And it’s almost certain that at least one of them will ring every night.”

He walked to the other side of the bed, where the Spaceforce insignia’s spiky nose protruded. “Did anyone ever sleep on this side? This thing looks like it’s designed to puncture someone’s skull.”

“I have no idea.” Ky was grinning at his expression. “Maybe they had lots of pillows.”

Rafe felt the tip of the carving and shook his head. “I wouldn’t trust pillows. That would poke through anything less than three centimeters of solid wood. Perhaps it was intended to ensure a Commandant’s celibacy.”

“Too late,” Ky said. “Maybe the intent was to move the Commandant to this side of the bed, where the com connections were.”

“Whatever,” Rafe said. “I think we’d be more comfortable somewhere else.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Surely you’d like to see the interesting etchings in my guest suite, Admiral.”

“I’ll have to switch the coms over to that room. Commandants are on call all the time.”

“Fine with me. Better than being stabbed by a spaceship.”

No call came that night.

Ky’s first call the next day was from General Molosay. “You’ll be hearing from President Saranife sometime today; she has an offer to make and I hope you will consider it favorably.”

“You can’t give me a hint?”

“No, I can’t. I can tell you that the heads of all the branches were consulted and agreed, as did the Council.”

“Thank you for letting me know, General,” Ky said as possibilities bubbled up. None of them things she wanted to do.

Her next call was from Stella. “Did I tell you about the attacks on Vatta property back on Cascadia?”

“No…”

“Anger over Jen Bentik’s death, by a Bentik relative. Same as the reason for their putting a hold on your financials and mine. Well—their court decided that the Bentik family had breached the courtesy laws by not informing us—individually—of their grievance and giving us a chance to ask for arbitration prior to trial. The attack on my employees and property damage without prior reference to legal proceedings meant they were in the wrong, so they unfroze our accounts. Now I can finally pay you for your shares—and you’ve got your severance pay. If I were you, I’d transfer it fast.”