Steven Brust - My Own Kind of Freedom

“Okay.”

“So, what in the gorram hell is going on, Colonel?”

“They’re panicking, that’s what.”

“Who?”

“The high command.”

“Great.”

“But the good news is, they sent me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And it is my intention to hold this valley.”

“I don’t—”

“Sergeant, you can tell Captain Baur, from me, that ammunition will be running by noon tomorrow. And we’ll have the line straightened out by this evening.”

“And if they attack this afternoon?”

“We’re humped. But they won’t; they always launch their attacks in the morning. You know that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, and plan on retreating.”

“Sir?”

“We’re out too far, which is fine, so we drop back. Slowly.”

“Suck ’em in?”

“Whenever possible. Let them win a little, then hit them when they’re taking a breath. We’re holding the ground, not the positions. So be ready to fall back, in an orderly way. We’ll be keeping our flanks connected, and hitting them every time they think we won’t. The rest of the time, we make it hard for them to hit us.”

“Yes, sir. But if we aren’t dug in, I mean, if we retreat from our positions—”

“I came with fifteen batteries of anti-aircraft guns, and with a big bundle of SAMs. And I’ve been promised air cover.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Go do your job, and let me do mine.”

“Yes, sir. And sir…”

“Yes, sergeant?”

“It’s good to see you again.”

Supervisor White said, “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mister Merlyn. Kit. Mind if I call you Kit?”

“No problem, Supervisor.”

“Call me Jerry.”

“All right, Jerry.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t think I’m right for this kind of work.”

White frowned. “What do you mean? Are you thinking of resigning?”

“Thinking about it.”

“Can you tell me what’s caused this?”

“My last mission.”

“Hmm. I’m familiar with that mission; I was just looking over the report. Seems to have been completed satisfactorily.”

“Thank you, Jerry.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“When I was recruited, I was promised that I’d be doing work I could be happy about.”

“Happy?”

“Work I could feel good about.”

The supervisor frowned, as if Kit had just started speaking a border world dialect.

“I don’t understand, Kit. What is there about that mission you don’t feel good about?”

“Jerry, what was the net result of the whole fourteen months of work?”

“An entire region was opened up for settlers. And now it’ll be irrigated, made fertile—”

“Jerry, it was irrigated before we started. And fertile. And there were settlers there. Families.”

“And, according to your own information, at least ninety percent of them were Independent sympathizers.”

“But they were—”

“That was a region that never surrendered, Kit. Until order was established, the war was ready to break out all over again. You want to fight the war all over again?”

“Not especially.”

“We could have moved in and just slaughtered everyone there. Would that have been more humane?”

“No.”

“Then exactly what should we have done?”

“Just what we did.”

“And so?”

“But I want no part of it.”

“You admit it needs to be done, but aren’t willing to do it?”

“Well put, Jerry. That’s exactly it. Like I said, I don’t think I’m right for this kind of work. I do the right thing, and I’m sick to my stomach afterwards. You want a tougher sort of guy than I am.”

“According to your record, you’re plenty tough.”

Kit just shook his head.

“Okay,” said the supervisor. “Look. I’d rather not lose you. You’re good at this work, and I respect that you have a conscience. Speaking for myself, I’d rather these operations were carried out by people with some qualms now and then, instead of the polished thugs who usually go in for it. So let me make a suggestion.”

“I’m listening.”

“What if I give you an operation you’ll like, and approve of, and be able to feel good about? You do it, and when it’s done, we’ll talk again.”

“What’s the operation?”

“It’s on Hera, collecting evidence to arrest and convict a very bad man.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

He found her in the engine room, of course. She was fiddling with something that required a large wrench in one hand and a dirty rag in the other. She looked up as he came in and gave him a big smile.

“Hello, Simon.”

“Hello, Kaylee. Are you hungry?”

“A little. What did you have in mind?”

“I thought I might cook us up something to eat.”

“Simon! You cook?”

He tried to decide if he ought to be offended. “There are some things I can make.”

“And you want to cook for me?”

“If you won’t be too critical.”

She grinned her Kaylee grin at him, and he got that sensation in his stomach again. “When did you learn to cook?”

“Actually, River taught me a few things while we were growing up. She’s the real cook.”

“Wow! I never knew! Why hasn’t she cooked here?”

“She’s made snacks for me a couple of times, but, well, there isn’t much you can do here.”

“Why not?”

“For real cooking, you need a real stove, a real oven… you know, a real kitchen. The things they have in civilization.”

She stared at him. She wasn’t smiling any more.

“Actually,” she said slowly, “I’m not really hungry.”

She turned back to the engine. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it, then gave up and went to find his sister.

She was in her bunk, arms wrapped around her knees.

“River, are you hungry?”

“The preparation of food has been a community-building and interpersonal bonding activity since before the dawn of history. The rituals and devices associated with food preparation are nearly always, in all cultures, matters of pride and identity. You’re an idiot.”

“River.”

“I think there are some protein chips left in the cupboard and some soy dip in the cooler.”

Zoë and the Captain showed up just as he was setting out the dip. He set the chips down in front of his sister and sat down next to her.

“That was a good call, doctor,” said Mal.

“What was?”

“About Jayne selling you and your sister out to the Alliance.”

His heart sank. River picked up a chip and studied it intently. “It is carbon-based,” she said. “That makes it organic by definition.”

“What happened?” asked Simon.

“Sudden chatter on the Alliance security channel,” said the Captain, “and there’s no reason for that here. It’s in code, but we can be pretty sure what it’s about. Its origin is in the world, on this continent.

“What are we going to do?”

“Wash is checking the sky to see if we have a clear path out. No point in running straight into an Alliance ship.”

“It isn’t about me,” said River.

“No,” said Simon. “It’s about what they did to you, and what they want to do to you again.”

“No,” said River. She looked at the Captain. “It’s the Alliance agent. He’s trying to find out who you are.”

“Alliance agent?” said Mal. “What Alliance agent?”

“The one you met in the canteen today.”

Mal looked at River, then at Simon, then at Zoë, then at River again. “Doctor, is your sister reliable when she gets like this?”