Angolin, p.14
Angolin, page 14
“I know I haven’t done everything as I could have, and you know of my bad temper. I’ll handle my shortcomings on my own, but beyond that, I need your help. Lord, I’m no hero. I’m not important or remarkable in any way. Angolin has my father for that. I’m only a man and my friends and I are few. We cannot protect our homeland alone, and I humbly ask for your assistance. Give us strength and guidance to defend Angolin and defeat its enemies, and help me to stop Armetrian and his filthy bunch of—” Don’t swear! “—his associates from destroying us from within. Help me think and assess more clearly to make sound judgments, carry out my duty, be a better soldier, and be . . . a better person.”
He stifled a tear at that, thinking it inappropriate to show such weakness in the temple of the god of war. He straightened, deepened his voice.
“Finally, Lord, open my people’s minds, and give them the tools they need to handle this. We Angolinians are isolated, unaware, and misguided in our notions, but we’re good people who mean no harm to anyone. Most of us, that is. Help us to take this challenge head-on. If we can rise to your occasion, meet us halfway.”
Dharmen rose and recited parting prayers, sighed relief, and headed for the exit but then slowed. “One more thing, my Lord,” he said, turning back to the altar. “If possible, please wean Lieutenant Tarkala away from the East Vales. He spends more time in Nieuw Kered than on base. We don’t want the enemy attack to catch him with his pants down. Literally!”
He stepped out into the passageway’s low light, wondering if his words befit a soldier of the Guard. He considered that Krone knew his full mind regardless and moved on, rounding one of the huge dome-shouldering piers, and smacking into another worshipper.
“Lieutenant Commander! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you,” said Leatra.
“That’s all right, Shipman Vinc.”
“I’ve never seen you here, sir. I didn’t know you came to temple.”
Neither did I. “We all have to go sooner or later.” Dharmen realized the example he should make as a midlevel officer. “Especially nowadays.”
“Of course, sir,” Leatra said shakily.
“Is there a problem?”
She opened her mouth but looked around before speaking. “Sir, I must talk to you about that night at Port.”
“Yes, that was a near one, wasn’t it?” Dharmen said restfully to calm Leatra and keep her fear from subduing whatever she might tell. “Has your stun wound healed?”
“It has, but . . .” She put a hand to her abdomen and frowned. “The pain from that blast shot through my whole body. I’ve never been that uncomfortable.”
“We haven’t quite reperfected the technology yet. Stuns will do that,” Dharmen said. “Anyway, you had something to say to me. I’m listening, Shipman.”
“Sir, I saw the thieves, nearly all of them. They used maintenance synths to load the containers onto the ships. I couldn’t make out what was in them, but it wasn’t hard to figure out after that first smuggling attempt.”
Dharmen eyed her so sharply that she stepped backward. “Your duties carried you nowhere near that landing berth, Shipman. What were you doing there?”
“Why, snooping of course!” Leatra said. “If you had a hunch that something was up, wouldn’t you?”
“Before you were hit, did you make out any faces?” Dharmen asked. “You said you saw most of them.”
“I couldn’t make out every face, and I definitely wouldn’t have known them all. Some of them were port personnel. But I did see the one who shot me. It was Sublieutenant Ciros.”
Dharmen lifted his eyebrows in the dim light. “You sure it was him?”
“I’m positive.”
“This all happened two months ago, Vinc. Why didn’t you come forward with it earlier?”
“I was afraid to,” she answered. “I’ve heard a few conversations on Bemin and at Seventh lately about helping the enemy. Ciros and his friends are all part of it, and I wasn’t sure who I could trust. I didn’t want to risk telling what I knew to a traitor.”
“You thought I might be a traitor, Shipman?” Dharmen said. “After all I did to stop them that night?”
Distress tinged Leatra’s round face. “I truly apologize, sir, and I mean no offense at all. But this situation is so sensitive; I needed more time to—”
“Don’t worry,” said Dharmen. “I’m actually glad to hear you’re this vigilant. It’ll help a lot.”
“Right, sir, thank you. But there may be someone else involved. I’m very worried . . . about my brother.”
“Continue!” Dharmen said, unable to hide his surprise.
“Well, Irzek spends a lot of time with Ciros and Narond now. He used to hate them. Now suddenly, they’re his close friends? I didn’t understand it at first, and every time I asked about it, he got angry—told me to mind my own business, stop playing the twins holo, and let him be a man. He’s going off base with them after morning muster.
Dharmen wanted to laugh. Irzek Vinc a man? “Where are they going?”
“To the Falconerplein, sir. There’s an antigovernment protest there today. I overheard Irz talking about it.”
Dharmen snorted through flared nostrils. He still didn’t want to outwardly show his anger, but how dare a Guard recruit betray his honor to attend a rally against his own government!
Leatra shrank a bit at his reaction. “I’ve been past the square during a few of them. Lots of angry chants to overthrow our leaders. They get really intimidating at times.”
“I know. I’ve heard about them,” Dharmen grumbled. “I’m trying to take advice and stay clear of trouble. I haven’t actually seen one yet, but I’d definitely like to at some point.”
“Be careful, sir. I don’t think the students would appreciate a uniform hanging around, from what I’ve seen.”
“They need to be careful, Shipman, not me,” Dharmen returned. “At least that’s what my Willem would say, but don’t worry. I’ll blend in somehow when the time comes.”
“If I may, sir, what’s happening to us? What’s all this anger about? I’m a soldier. I’m supposed to be tough, but this is the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“It’s the scariest thing any of us have ever seen. For now,” Dharmen said. “But whatever’s coming, we’ll match it. I don’t care if some of the traitors are only students, I’m not willing to just hand Angolin over to the Carmis. I hope you aren’t either.”
“Certainly not, sir! Whatever you do, count me in.” Leatra stopped as Guard uniforms approached from Krone’s shrine. “I have to go. I have muster, then morning duties. Then I told Irz I’d meet him after his thing’s over. I just hope he’s alone. I don’t appreciate his choice of company lately any more than they appreciate me.”
“Good luck with that,” Dharmen said.
Leatra hastily saluted and turned to leave.
“And Shipman . . .”
“Sir!”
“Krone be with you.”
“Krone be with you also, sir.” Leatra quickly crossed the sanctuary floor and left the building.
Dharmen went back into the passageway, away from the approaching worshippers. He found a quiet nook to duck into. “Forgiveness, Lord, this can’t wait.” He blinked his comm to activation. “Priority zero seven one Victor four. Authorization: Tate five seven nine five. Secure channel.” At Rem-E’s prompt, he continued. “Tate to Gennet.”
“Gennet here.”
“General, I need to place an arrest order.”
“For whom, Lieutenant Commander?”
“For Sublieutenant Ciros, sir. I’ve just received information on his involvement in the last gun smuggling attempt from Bemin,” Dharmen replied. Request approved, he made another. “And sir, send the security detail to the Falconerplein. About four hours from now, that’s where they’ll find him.”
“We need to talk, Tate! Right now!” said Armetrian.
Dharmen turned, found a pudgy, snarling face a meter from his own that was ready to interrupt his brief Ergive class-time break. He snorted at the unpleasant air accompanying the man. “Never a moment’s peace. Something I can do for you, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Matter of fact, you can,” Armetrian said. “What gave you the right to have Ciros detained? I know he was picked up on your order.”
Hmmph, way sooner than I thought. “You can answer that on your own, but if you really don’t know—”
“I read the warrant, soldier. I asked what gave you the right? You just had a good officer locked up. Guardsmen don’t book their own!”
“Really? Ciros was witnessed as part of a weapons smuggling attempt. That’s gunrunning and larceny. When discovered, he blasted the recruit who witnessed his actions. That’s assault. We don’t shoot our own either, at least not off of Negara,” Dharmen said. “And today, Ciros was in the Falconerplein. A Guardsman has no business at a rally protesting the government he’s sworn to protect. And as for good officer, your man is the worst I’ve ever seen in or out of my command.”
“My man? What does that mean?”
“Ciros is a traitor, working under you. What else could it mean?” Dharmen prodded an angry finger into Armetrian’s chest and kept it there. “He and the rest of your goons just happened to find themselves under me when I never requested them. You did that to get them to Port. Then right away, we had not one but two weapons thefts.” Armetrian rolled his eyes away, and Dharmen’s followed the evasion. “Do you honestly think you’re fooling anyone, Armetrian? By now, half the Guard knows you’re behind this.”
Armetrian smacked Dharmen’s hand aside. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised at how much your kind likes touching other men, should I, Tate?”
“Sorry to break it to you, mate, but nothing about you appeals to me. Good men, honorable men, real men, Armetrian—that’s my type. So unless you suddenly grow into that and lose the beady eyes, bad breath, and bad attitude, I don’t think I’ll be bothered, will I? Your necro bag is the only part of you I want to get my hands on. Don’t doubt that for a second!”
“How does so much mouth come from such a dry, useless excuse of an officer?”
“Got plenty of idiots like you to practice it on.”
“Say what you want, but what’s coming is coming, and you and your friends won’t be able to stop it,” Armetrian said. “Watch yourself, Tate, before things get ugly for you—”
Dharmen grabbed Armetrian by the collar, yanked him close. “And you watch who you cross while you’re betraying your own people!” he growled with spit flying into Armetrian’s face. “I haven’t spent the better part of my career fighting for Angolin so lowlifes like you can tear it apart!”
Armetrian tried to free himself.
Dharmen grabbed his neck and slammed his head against the wall. “And you’re right, Armetrian, it is ugly—real ugly!” he snarled through his teeth. “And it’ll stay ugly until each and every one of you scum are gone, ’cause if you think I’m going to just stand by and watch, then you”—he gave Armetrian another hard head slam—“have to be”—and another—“fucking kidding!”
Dharmen had never gripped anyone so hard, and he had never seen anyone look so petrified. He glanced to his side and found his entire class and a good part of base watching in amazed silence. He looked back to Armetrian and shoved him to the floor. Armetrian coughed, red-faced as he scrambled to right himself. He took a swing, missed. Dharmen’s didn’t. Armetrian staggered back. Dharmen heard gasps and chattering around him. He stood ready for more, and he didn’t care who or how many watched. But Armetrian had no more. Glaring, he straightened his tunic, rubbed his jaw, and limped away.
Dharmen’s students filed in around him with a collage of expressions: supportive perhaps, hopeful maybe, confused. And on some, seethingly resentful. That arrest order was never going to sit well with everyone.
“You won’t learn the ancient battle arts standing out here!” he boomed. With hands in the air as General Gennet often did, he ordered his dumbfounded Ergive aspirants back into the gym.
Class ended later with Dharmen still stamping out the flames of his anger as his students drifted out of the room. Footsteps halted behind him. He turned from the gym’s main upright, expecting to find Armetrian or one of his cronies. He did not expect Irzek.
“Problem, Shipman?”
Irzek’s thin, acne-scarred lips quivered. “H-he’s right, you know. About Ciros—”
“Address me properly, soldier!”
“Sir! Apologies.”
“That’s almost more like it. And regarding Sublieutenant Ciros, just what was Lieutenant Commander Armetrian right about?”
“Permission to speak freely, sir.”
“You’ve already done that, Shipman. May as well continue.”
“Lieutenant Commander, I don’t understand why you had Ciros arrested. He did nothing wrong.”
“Oh, he didn’t? And how do you know that?”
“I just know, sir, and . . . and what evidence do you have against him? You can’t detain someone without proof of—”
“We need some discipline at Seventh. Since when does a recruit tell his CO what he can and can’t do?”
“You granted me freedom to speak, sir.”
“I didn’t grant you freedom to forget who’s in command, here or at Port. There’ve been two weapons thefts since we put boots down, and when I receive information on anyone possibly involved, I’m obligated to act. Anyone at all, Vinc. Don’t forget it.”
Irzek curled his lips into the same sickly sneer that Dharmen had grown so accustomed to from the man he had just sent hobbling away. “Permission to continue speaking—”
“You seem to have no trouble at it, Shipman, why bother to ask?”
“Why did you send MPs to the Falconerplein to spy on us to begin with? They walked the whole square before they found . . . Well, we know it had to be on your orders.”
“Spy on you?” Dharmen hissed. “You and your cohorts—no one needs to spy on you. I was told some of my people were going where they didn’t belong to take part in a treasonable situation. You’ve undermined the honor of the Guard, and mine for that matter. You’re lucky I didn’t have all of you brought in.” Dharmen took the fear on Irzek’s face and ran with it. “When your motives are right and you uphold your honor, Vinc, you don’t have to hide anything. Tell that to Ciros and Narond next time you see them, and tell it to your boss who was just here at class break.”
“But, sir—”
“Dismissed! Get back in uniform and attend to your duties before you find yourself in more trouble than you’re already in. Because I’m just getting started!” Dharmen barked. “And if you can find time between protests, think about how to become a better Ergive student. Concentrate on what goes on in here, Shipman, not on what’s happening in the Falconerplein!”
Irzek flipped a salute above eyes pooling hatred, turned, and stormed off. Dharmen watched him leave and refreshed the main upright. He studied the class data uploads but ruminated beyond them. Why couldn’t he follow the general’s example and keep his mouth shut? And why did he always let even the slightest person affect him? “I didn’t handle that well at all, did I, Lord Krone,” he grumbled to himself.
Unsheathing metal and rushing boots filled his ears. He instinctively wheeled and leaped away, evading his attacker. Years of training and experience kicked in; he grabbed his own sword handle, yanking it from its scabbard.
Irzek’s blade flew past him, hit the upright, and sent cascading ripples through its holo-imagery. Wild-eyed and oblivious to his blunder, Irzek turned and lunged, bringing his blade down in an offensive maneuver he’d been instructed in numerous times.
Dharmen was more than ready for it. He met the back end of Irzek’s thrust, blocked the blade, and punched him in the side of the head. Irzek stumbled but regained his footing and lunged again, throwing rage into his movements. Dharmen handily dispatched each one . . . and he felt contact between metals that he hadn’t experienced in years.
“That’s not simulated, Vinc, that’s real. Where did you get it?”
Irzek said nothing but breathed heavily. Anticipating the recruit’s next move—and thankful that he had ignored or forgotten instruction against betraying intentions with facial expressions—Dharmen readied himself. Irzek rushed him. Unsuccessfully. He made more adrenaline-guided thrusts, each one skillfully met.
“Who are you to question my honor,” Irzek grated. “You think being a general’s son puts you above everybody else? I’m as loyal to Angolin as anyone!”
“We’ll debate that one later,” Dharmen said. “And haven’t I warned you repeatedly about overextended limbs? If you want to continue this, tighten your stance before you lose an arm!”
Irzek apparently heard nothing through his crazed fugue. He made another long thrust—arms extended outward as he had done since day one against all tutelage. Dharmen evaded the inept move and parried with a force that sent sparks across the clashing blades. Taking advantage of Irzek’s surprise, he twisted his own blade, attempting to wrest the other’s sword from his hand. Irzek kept hold of his weapon but badly fumbled a countermaneuver. Dharmen repelled it, wrenched Irzek’s sword from him, and sent it clanging across the floor.
Dharmen drew back, glanced down at his own blade. Blood ran along its edge and dripped onto the floor. Irzek’s face changed from anger to fright at the sight of his badly slashed forearm.
“Be glad you still have it,” Dharmen said. “And if you’d spent more time learning from me instead of Armetrian, you’d know how to use a sword by now, traitor.”
He scooped the pilfered weapon from the floor and opened a channel to security, but before he could utter a word, Irzek reached into his cargo pocket and produced a gun, fumbling through his injury before aiming.
Dharmen held fearlessly still. “Put that away, Shipman.”
Footsteps scrambled from behind. Dharmen looked around to a gym refilling with uniforms.
Leatra barreled through the onlookers. “Irz, by Krone, what do you think you’re doing?”
