Angolin, p.8
Angolin, page 8
Dharmen felt the scrutiny. The same level of diligence expected of Ergive students was demanded of him. “We weren’t sent to protect Port itself as much as the heavy armaments stored there.”
“Exactly,” Gennet said. “Angolin is dotted with arsenals, but Bemin houses our most advanced, most powerful munitions. It’s the only complement substantive enough to overcome our own defenses. The Carmogen want it badly; that’s why our thieves fell over themselves trying to secure it for them. I needed someone there watching. Someone I could trust.”
Dharmen felt a ray of hope, like a door opening in his wall of wariness. And finally, some information was walking through it! “I’m glad to know my posting wasn’t just another arbitrary change from HC, sir.”
“Change? Oh, there’s plenty enough of that coming. Now that we’re venturing out into space again after a thousand-year hiatus, much of the Guard will find itself manning ships, not bases. You’ve witnessed the updated enlisted and low- to midlevel officer rankings, and soon”—Gennet paused, and cringed—“soon you will address me as Admiral.”
Dharmen’s eyes widened. He envisioned the general in the plumed bicorn hat and gaudy shoulder epaulettes he had seen in historical synth texts. He would have laughed out loud in lesser company. Gennet’s expression indicated he would not be similarly amused. “Our ancestors were a space-faring people, sir. It’s only natural for us to eventually—”
“Perhaps, Lieutenant Commander, just perhaps. Let’s leave it at that.”
“With permission, General.”
“Granted.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep the weapons safe, but what about the traitors? Sir, I came to you about Lieutenant Commander Armetrian back on Negara. He’s right in the middle of all this. Why has he been allowed to keep his commission for nearly four months now without the slightest action taken? He and his accomplices should’ve returned from combat to base brigs, and not left free to continue working with the enemy.” Dharmen slowed his breathing and calmed himself. He didn’t want to go into a tirade now.
“Mr. Tate, if you were as long on patience as you are on anger . . .” Gennet said it without disdain and with the very cool Dharmen sought for himself. “I hear you, but there was no good way to approach it. Even before you told me about the conspirators, I had seen the signs: the particle fire from the enemy, and the strange behavior within the ranks, even up to a few of my peers. The jittery councilors sitting where you are now, feigning ignorance of the situation but looking like trapped borbols at my every word. This all started long before Negara, but I couldn’t do anything about it. Until now. Solid evidence, as I said earlier—a man in my position doesn’t march up to the Kraal armed only with words from just one of his officers.”
Dharmen balked, but Gennet raised a pique-dousing hand.
“It was a tough call,” said Gennet, “but I had to have more, and in the meantime, I needed to keep an eye on the collaborators. All of them.”
“You mean Armetrian’s following here at Seventh.”
“And in other orders too, Lieutenant Commander, precisely. Hauling them before the Judge Advocate, even giving the slightest hint of suspicion too soon would have shut down my efforts faster than a high flyer snatching up a West Ranges shepherd.” Gennet cast eyes about the immediate area in casual reference to his wider command. “Traitors are like weeds, Mr. Tate. Uproot one bunch and more sprout up in their place. I wanted to keep watch on all those spreading in my field; identify as many as possible and uncover others elsewhere before they could do real damage.” Gennet sighed. “But now, there’s the dead Bemin security administrator. I knew there’d be a smuggling attempt there eventually, but I didn’t expect such lengths to achieve it. As for your situation up to now, Angolin’s safety is more important than one officer’s discomfort, no matter how extreme. Let that be clear.”
“Aye, sir.” Dharmen exhaled raw emotion. He wished he could reverse every moment he had let outrage control him where discretion had been called for. Dark clouds were lifting, and if these months had been filled with nothing but fear and doubt— “I understand completely, but what role do I take in this going forward?”
“The same role you’ve been in: the vigilant, hotheaded, truth-seeking soldier I’ve discovered you to be, similar to the ancient who wore this metal suit behind me,” Gennet answered. “And as my eyes and ears in this situation, which we both know is only just beginning. As administrator of this order, I don’t have the same ability to keep watch over every corner of my command as you do. It’s not easy to uncover traitors when you’re in meetings all day, running this base one minute and dealing with bureaucrats the next.”
“By the gods, sir, I’ll do my best!”
“That, you will.”
“Sir, one last thing. Back on Negara, Armetrian mentioned carrying out his instructions. Would you know anything about that?”
Gennet raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon, Lieutenant Commander?”
Dharmen remained silent.
“That brings one suspicion to mind. Can’t say I’m surprised,” Gennet said too casually.
Dharmen didn’t like it.
The general gave him a seconds-long perusing. “Dismissed.”
Dharmen stood, saluted, and turned to leave.
“And Tate . . .”
“Sir?”
“Be careful. Very careful.”
Dharmen nodded an affirmative and left the office.
Gennet stood as the door slid shut. He paused all imagery on his office surfaces; there was too much on his mind and he wanted audible and visual quiet. A message floating before him from his wife, Audra, blinking in standby mode was the room’s only movement, and all he was willing to permit at the moment. It wasn’t marked urgent. It could wait just a little while longer. He turned to the window, closed the data files on it and looked down to the entrance court, watching the bustle of base’s late-afternoon activity as he often did. It was one of few things in his life now that granted him peace. But his calm visage frowned in the pane. “Admiral, indeed,” he muttered to his half reflection. “Hmmph!”
The dine-in clanked with plastiform as Dharmen cleared the first course and placed the soiled synthware on the refuse platform. With everything carefully piled and the command given, platform and contents vanished, sending the food scraps to the communal sublevel compost. Willem came to the table with the second course stretched across both arms.
Seated at the head of the table, Dharmen’s father received the first plate. “I see someone’s done this before,” he said, smiling gently to Dori and Theus seated toward the opposite end.
“I spent half my school years working in restaurants. I learned a thing or two,” Willem replied indifferently.
“You waited tables?” the elderly man inquired.
“That and other jobs, yes. I had no sponsorship, so tuition had to be covered somehow.”
“But you’re a Hanne. You’re from one of Angolin’s wealthiest, most prominent families.”
“So I’m told,” sighed Willem, “and it hasn’t helped one iota. I didn’t follow the family line and go into politics, I chose civic service instead. Father was outraged. He cut me off, and that was that. Are you comfortable, sir?”
“Nüren, Will, not sir. I won’t have my son’s mate standing on ceremony after all this time.” He furrowed bristly white brows. “How long has it been for you two, anyway?”
“Almost four years,” Dharmen cut in, arriving at the table with a decanter of Vinalhaven Valley red. “And no one’s standing on ceremony, Father. Will’s just looking out for you. You’ve only been out of VetsMed a day. We want you to get well.”
“Good Krone, why all the fuss?” Nüren said. “I had far worse scrapes in the Guard. Now I miss a step and fall, and suddenly I’m rushed to a pen full of sick people. Can’t an old soldier just get normal medi-synth homecare and be done with it?”
“You fractured your leg in three places, sir. That’s more than medi-synths should be trusted with,” Dori said. “And I have to call you sir. You’re still our superior.”
Nüren grimaced, turned to Dharmen. “She’s almost as rigid as you, m’boy: every little thing so neatly tended to and put in place, up to and beyond Guard standards.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Father, and neither do you.”
“Oh, no?” Nüren looked to Willem. “Does he still do that odd thing with his clothes at night before bed?”
“No,” Dharmen answered in Willem’s place.
“Yes, actually.” Willem grinned. “I just assumed he was continuing basic training.”
“Basic? Certainly not, Dharmen’s been doing that since he was a child,” said Nüren. “His mother—may Lady Xoraen keep her in the afterlife—found it funny. She would sneak into his room at night and rearrange everything—move the arms and legs into all sorts of gestures. You should’ve seen his reactions in the mornings, wondering why his clothes were saluting him! Gave us a laugh every time, watching him get dressed in a huff and stomp off to school angry. He was Rior’s fire then and still is!”
Theus chortled and promptly stifled it. Guests at the same dinner table notwithstanding, Nüren was still one of the most renowned military leaders in Angolinian history.
“I’m sorry you missed Dharmen’s promotion, sir,” Dori said. “I understand your reasons, but I’m sure everyone would love to have seen General Nüren Tate in the flesh again.”
“And steal my boy’s moment? No way. This is his army now, and the time is his and yours to shine.” Nüren leaned close to Dori. “And retirement is what it is, Commander, but if I were thirty years younger, just thirty years—”
“Have another helping, Father!” Dharmen heaved a generous serving of grochlaroot spiced the way he and his father liked onto the man’s plate. “You need real food to regain your strength, not the tablets and strips you’ve subsisted on up to now.”
Nüren ignored that and asked Theus, “Lieutenant, how is the Guard these days? It’s been a long time since I commanded the First Order. I get scarce little news now.”
“Not bad, sir. Not bad at all,” Theus answered, startled.
“Not exactly good either,” Dori said.
“How so, Commander?” Nüren asked.
“Well, sir . . .” Dori sat back and sighed. “Our people today aren’t what they were when you were in command. Discipline’s fading, and the threat we’re facing has even the officer corps recruiting younger. We’ll be pulling them out of middle school soon if we’re not careful.”
“What threat do you mean, Commander? I didn’t know you perceived one,” Dharmen said. “Something change for you since Negara?”
“You’re not the only one who sees trouble coming, Dharm. You were just lucky enough to have overheard a good part of it and escaped to report it,” Dori explained. “And I’ve already told you I’m on your side. I believed you back then, but hearing that your homeland is under the gun from its own is a lot to process, especially before a major offensive. A situation couldn’t begin to describe it, so do me a big favor and let somebody else feel for something for a change.”
“Good advice for yourself, Commander,” Dharmen pulled from his comeback file.
Dori ignored that and continued: “And then there’s Bemin. That didn’t happen on its own. I heard the two escaped ships were found fully loaded. I assume that’s what you and General Gennet talked about this afternoon.” She gave Nüren a dreary look. “Treason in our ranks, unrest on our streets—all these centuries of peace just to come to this? Krone only knows what’s next, sir.”
“You sound as though it’s hopeless, Commander,” Nüren said. “It isn’t. It’s not new either.”
“Father?” Dharmen queried.
“This happened in my day too. It’s been going on since Angolin was founded. You can’t cut eighty million people off from the rest of the world and expect them to accept it indefinitely. That number plus the millions living in dark matter pockets whom we still don’t know about.”
“But, sir . . . but Nüren,” said Willem, “this isn’t just discontent. Lives have been lost—nearly Dharmen’s too—and it’ll only get worse by the look of it. Where’s the hope in this?”
“We’ve been isolated for too long, Will. This was coming eventually. Great peoples don’t exist in a vacuum, and we are a great people, even if we don’t always know it or act like it.” Nüren paused, studied each face. “We will join the larger world, for better or otherwise. And a lot of blood will be spilled in the process. It won’t be easy.”
The table went quiet, all but Dharmen. “But the Kraal has made our hiding law, Father. When some of our people defy it to join the larger world, what position will that put the Guard in? Besides the traitors, the protests are increasing. When they finally boil over, how will Dori, Thee, and I be expected to handle it? Are we expected to be the otherwise part? I don’t know about my colleagues here, but I signed up to defend Angolin from the Outside World, not from itself. I’ll protect the people. It’s up to them to run their society.”
“And is that the speech you’ll give them if they don’t?” Nüren said.
“All I’m saying, Father, is if our people can’t control themselves, then they deserve what their choices get them. I’m a soldier, not a babysitter.”
“Son, as long as you have a Guard uniform on your back, you’ll go where you’re needed and do what’s needed, whether it’s down the Vresel or down the block. Angolin needs your service now more than ever. You will uphold your honor and protect this land in whatever way required. Get ready for diaper duty if that’s what it takes!”
Dharmen simmered with an energy outside of anger that he couldn’t place. “Yes, sir.”
“Each of you,” Nüren said, surveying the table, “keep our homeland as safe under your charge as it was under mine, but be mindful. Uphold the law, but respect the will of the people. And above all, don’t let need for power infect you as it has some of your peers.”
“Excellently put, sir,” Dori said. She raised her wine vessel. “To the Hidden Realm and its safety, and to leaders who remind us of our duty.”
Vessel in hand, Nüren stood shakily, refusing help. “To Angolin’s future,” he added, “to the well-being of friends and family, and . . . to my son and future son-in-law!”
Dharmen choked on his wine that he had already begun sipping.
“You two do intend to marry, right? I’ll be highly disappointed if you don’t. Been a long while now, this messing about. Time to get serious.” Nüren’s chuckle brought some cheer back to the table. “And for Krone’s sake, be quick about the wedding. I’m not getting any younger!”
Willem smiled. He tapped an icon on the table to warm the plates a bit. A spark in the console made him retract his hand. “That’s odd, what could have . . .?”
“It’s probably a short in your dining system,” Theus said with his mouth full.
The console sparked again and hissed. The icons degraded to faint rings and disappeared. Willem frowned. “What in Rior’s name?”
The hiss grew loud and shrill. Dharmen’s eyes twitched from combat stress, but he ignored it. “Get back!” He grabbed Willem and Nüren and pulled them from the table.
The tabletop detonated. Dori and Theus dove to the floor. Dharmen, Nüren, and Willem turned to a wall, shielding heads with hands. They had no time to take cover. Flying debris sprayed them. They carefully peered back to find the dine-in table scattered around the room in twisted chunks.
Smoke and melting plastiform filled Dharmen’s nostrils. “That was no short, someone’s tapped into our household systems!”
The light bots flickered and then shut off. Dharmen activated an upright to access the systems through his internal only to find that Rem-E’s patch-in to them was being blocked. “Somebody somewhere is trying to—”
“You saw the delay. It had to be a low-level signal,” Theus said as he and Dori got up from the floor. “Your perp is an amateur, and probably close by.”
Out of the corner of Dharmen’s eye, he caught movement. He looked to the dine-in window. The room’s darkness illuminated the outside. A face that wouldn’t have otherwise been visible bobbed above the sill. The trespasser’s eyes met Dharmen’s for an instant, and quickly disappeared. The stomping thuds of fleeing feet came from the narrow passage between pod houses.
Dharmen snatched his gun from his trouser leg holster and darted through the floating upright. He commanded the front door open, instinctively aiming as it slid aside. He went out and quickly scanned the area. A figure ran fast down the pavement and turned onto the bridge over the wayside canal. Dharmen set off in pursuit, hearing Theus and Willem yelling after him before their voices faded.
The other crossed the bridge with a sizeable lead. He slowed and turned, likely to see if he was being followed. He looked young, possibly a teenager, though very tall . . .
And those few seconds were enough. With a clear line of sight and his target briefly facing him, Dharmen fired. But the other turned in the same instant and stumbled. He grabbed the side of his head; the blast had barely clipped him. The lanky figure righted himself, cut a sharp left, and darted around the end of a pod cluster. Dharmen followed. He knew there would be little chance of a second shot now. The way was broader and much busier; even Rem-E’s targeting assist would be of no help under these conditions.
Dharmen realized the other was headed toward the Zuidenmarkt. South C’s open-air bazaar of shops and entertainment venues would be teeming at this hour. He refused to let that stop him. This was no common prankster. Got me in your sights personally now, Armetrian? You should’ve been man enough to do this yourself!
He ran on anger-fueled adrenaline, dodging others on the gently glowing pavers. Some weren’t fast enough to avoid him. His attacker fared little better through the increasing mass of ambling bodies. He was also clearly not used to a chase. His inability to make quick maneuvers or control his long limbs gave Dharmen ground, but not enough to close the gap. The other reached the market and headed down its main promenade.
