John Ringo: Cally's War

“Hey, hero. You guys got me out of the spot from hell,” she said. “Oh, and thanks for the stuff.”

“Yep. We did at that. Papa’ll be in in a little while. The crew naturally don’t know you two are related, and he got his arm twisted into a game of spades.” He saw her face. “No, really. It would have looked conspicuous as hell if he’d run off here. They think you’re my girlfriend.”

“ What? ” She looked dangerous, standing and folding her bunk up into the wall and taking down and unfolding the stool that stowed securely in a rack under the bunk.

“Whoa! Hang on! It wasn’t my idea — and Papa would have felt just too weird even pretending to the crew to be hot over his own granddaughter.” He set the tray down on her fold-down table and folded the guest stool down from the wall, holding up his hands placatingly as he sat.

“He’s pretended to be my date before.” There was a slight note of outrage. “I mean, okay, ick, but he has!”

“For a day here or an evening there, but you have to have noticed it’s… a tough role for him,” he finished tactfully.

“Okay, okay. I guess I just miss him after all that. They were real amateurs at the whole torture thing, it’s just I was so sure I wasn’t going to get out of there alive.” She shuddered.

“And you finally had something to live for?” he prompted.

“He helped. He had to have been sympathetic. Are — when are we going to get him out?” There was a glitter to her eyes he hadn’t seen before. Her cheeks were flushed, too.

“Oh, yeah. Special delivery.” He grinned and handed her a message cube.

“Is that from — why didn’t you? Nevermind.” She looked around frantically for her PDA, then remembered. “Buckley. I lost buckley.”

Tommy was surprised to hear a note of real grief in her voice. People weren’t supposed to get attached to the personalities of their PDAs the way they did to real AIDs. Then again, almost everyone he knew used a personality overlay. He didn’t know anybody who’d used the base personality as much as she had. Maybe he grew on you after awhile.

“Here, use my AID,” he offered. “Sarah, help her, okay?” Since clean AIDs were somewhat less persnickety than the originals, he could trust her to behave.

“Thanks.” She stuck the cube in the reader slot and it immediately displayed. Oh my God, they’ve got him in a wheelchair? Fleet Strike medicine’s better than that. Oh. This must have been made yesterday. Yeah, I guess if they’ve got him up and around instead of sleeping through regen he would have to be taking it easy. That bastard Beed.

“Cally, my love. Your name suits you. If you’re seeing this, we made it. We got you out. Good. If so, I hope to be joining you soon. Without a prisoner, I’m only here long enough to promote the XO and then it’s back to Earth for me. Tommy and your grandfather have told me how this whole thing works. As soon as I’ve got my affairs wrapped up they’ll be bringing me in, sooner rather than later. At some point the Darhel will wonder, even if Fleet Strike won’t, whether I slipped you a suicide pill. So I’ll see you soon, love — and I hope that you’ll be looking forward to that as much as I will. Tell Tommy it’s okay if he talks about me. Vaya con Dios , Cally.” The hologram disappeared.

“We’ll be staying in orbit another two or three days so we can take information about his intended travel plans back with us,” Tommy said.

“Good. You know him? From where? You didn’t say anything in the pre-mission briefing,” she said.

“Cally, I’m sorry. I fucked up. I knew him forty years ago in ACS and when I heard ‘lieutenant,’ I just didn’t make the connection. Not until we saw the CO change after you were captured.” He tensed for the storm he just knew was coming.

“Okay. What was he like back then?” she asked.

“What?” Okay? I fucked up and got her captured and tortured and her answer is “okay”? Damn, she is in love. “ Oh. Well, first, his name wasn’t always James Stewart. That really is his name now, and was back then, but his mother named him Manuel…”

Mary’s Diner was not the sort of place anyone would associate with the tongs or anything other than cheap meals for out-migrating colonists on a budget. They got all kinds at all hours. They had a break room for staff — unnecessary because the only staff were Mary and her husband. Mary was an incessant gossip — about everything that didn’t matter. She also made a mean cup of tea.

All of which was why James Stewart was sitting in her break room over a cup of tea, talking to the dai dai lo of the Black Dragons Tong.

“You know what you’re asking for is very expensive, don’t you?” The other man savored his tea. His host had excellent taste. He preferred to drink his imported oolong while it was hot. The room was pleasantly appointed, with a miniature fountain burbling and plashing gently along one side, and a branch of silk cherry blossoms in a crystal vase on the table. It was a good place to do business.

“Oh, come on. I know how this works. Where else are you going to make any profit at all on this? Don’t you think I’m worth it?” Stewart grinned.

“Perhaps. I won’t promise anything, but I’ll ask my grandfather,” he said.

“That’s all I ask. When do you think you can give me an answer?” The former gang leader turned general sipped his own tea.

“Tomorrow. I’ll know tomorrow,” he said.

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.” Stewart excused himself politely and left. He had a promotion to announce.

At the diner, after Mary had poured their tea and left, the dai dai lo handed him a ticket, glancing at the AID sitting on the table.

“Your passage to Earth is confirmed on our inbound combination liner, the Kick ’Em Jenny from Dulain. We are not embarking or disembarking passengers, except for Uncle’s favorite nephew for a vacation. If he doesn’t show up, you shouldn’t panic. The boy’s a bit scatterbrained. Your shuttle leaves at eight thirty-five tonight,” he said.

“Thank you. I’m very grateful. This has been an upsetting trip and I’m looking forward to getting back to work on Earth as soon as possible.” The general rose, taking his ticket and AID from the table.

“Of course. If there’s ever anything else we can do for you, don’t hesitate to call on us again. Have a pleasant voyage.” He shook the other man’s hand, palming the cube hidden in the handshake.

As the general left, he spoke briefly to the cigarette-pack-sized machine.

“Diana, please transmit my travel itinerary to General Vanderberg. God, I can’t wait to get home.” He walked out and the dai dai lo could just hear the musical female voice as the door swung shut behind him.

“Yes, James. Transmission complete,” it said.

It was too bad Cally couldn’t be up here. The crew lounge was probably the most comfortable area on the whole ship. The chairs were upholstered in a really good imitation of brown leather, and a holographic fireplace crackled merrily against one wall. A discreet air freshener at the bottom corner of the fireplace’s vidscreen released a faint, homey odor of hot wood smoke. There were several small tables that could lock together in groups, or not, and they actually had a decent wet bar. Of course, the coffee can for donations and their immunity to alcohol dampened the fun of that, but you couldn’t have everything.

Tommy looked up from a game of backgammon with Papa O’Neal as the navigator came into the lounge and approached him.