*
*
It was dark when the shuttle emerged from a blinding snowstorm to hover over one of Fort Camerone’s landing platforms. Nav lights glowed, and repellers screamed as the ship lowered itself into a cloud of billowing steam. Thanks to the fact that it was so cold, and the visibility was poor, the shuttle managed to touch down without taking sniper fi?re from the neighboring hills. Only one person was present to meet the incoming ship—but the Hudathan was big enough to qualify as a reception party all by himself. His name was Drik Seeba-Ka. Major Drik Seeba-Ka, and he recognized Santana the moment the human emerged from the shuttle. What illumination there was came from one of the spaceship’s wing lights as Santana approached the other offi?cer. Coming as he did from one of the most hostile planets in known space, the Hudathan had no need for a parka. What might have been an expression of amusement fl?ickered within his deep set eyes as the human dropped his T-1 bag and came to attention. “Captain Antonio Santana reporting as ordered, sir!”
“Stand easy,” Seeba-Ka said as he returned the salute.
“You’re just as ugly as the last time I saw you.”
“Look who’s talking,” Santana replied, and staggered as a massive hand slapped him on the back. The Hudathan made a grinding noise, which, based on previous experience, the human knew to be laughter.
“And who is this?” Seeba-Ka wanted to know, as Gomez arrived at the bottom of the ramp with her T-1 bag strapped to her back.
“Please allow me to introduce Corporal Gomez,” Santana replied dryly. “But watch your step. . . . She doesn’t like offi?cers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” the Hudathan growled. “Welcome to Algeron, Corporal. I’m sure the fort will be that much safer now that you’re here to help guard it.”
But Gomez didn’t want to guard the fort—or anything else for that matter. She wanted to be with Santana. Partly because the noncom felt she owed the offi?cer, partly because he appeared to be competent, and partly for reasons she wasn’t ready to fully confront yet. So the noncom was about to object when Santana saw the look in her eye and hurried to intervene. “Report to the transient barracks, Corporal. I’ll track you down.”
Gomez heard the promise that was implicit in the offi?cer’s last sentence, took comfort from it, and managed a respectful, “Yes, sir.”
Santana nodded, bent to retrieve his bag, and followed the Hudathan down into the fortress below. Gomez looked up into the thickly falling snow, felt a half dozen fl?akes kiss her face, and cursed her own stupidity. Joining the Legion had been stupid. Continually fi?ghting the system was stupid. And falling in love with an offi?cer was the stupidest thing of all.
The conference room was empty when Seeba-Ka and Santana entered. But it wasn’t long before other people began to arrive, and the cavalry offi?cer was introduced to Military Chief of Staff, General Bill Booly III, his chief of staff, Colonel Kitty Kirby, billionaire Admiral Sergi Chien-Chu, and Intelligence Chief Margaret Rutherford Xanith, plus a handful of trusted specialists. Missing from the meeting was Hudathan Triad Hiween Doma-Sa, who was off- planet. Santana had never been in a room with so many VIPs and didn’t want to be ever again. Especially since all of them were being deferential toward him, and he didn’t know why. Finally, after the door was closed, it was Booly who brought the meeting to order. He chose to stand rather than sit and eyed those in front of him. “Most of you have seen the photos taken on Jericho, but Captain Santana hasn’t. So bear with me as I bring the captain up to speed.”
What followed was the most memorable briefi?ng Santana was ever likely to receive. First came the news that an entire battle group had been lost to the Ramanthians, followed by shocking holos of President Nankool being marched through the jungle, with hundreds of POWs strung out ahead of and behind him. Santana felt his heart sink as he came to understand the true gravity of the situation, remembered all of the jungle-related VR scenarios he’d been forced to complete on the Indi, and knew why. Judging from the way in which he’d been treated, and the way all the VIPs were staring at him, he’d been selected to lead a rescue mission, the kind where a lot of people get killed trying to accomplish the impossible. Booly smiled grimly. “I can see from the expression on the captain’s face that he’s asking himself why he was selected for what looks like a suicide mission. Well,” the general continued, “the answer to that question is quite simple. The offi?cer we’re looking for needs to have some unusual qualities. And when we ran the criteria through the BUPERS computer, six names popped up. The fi?rst was Antonio Santana’s. And no wonder—because very few of our offi?cers have been awarded one Medal for Valor, never mind two, and a Distinguished Service Cross to boot!
“But more important, from my perspective at least, is that fact that Captain Santana has the right sort of personality and experience to land on Jericho and free the president from captivity. Some might disagree,” Booly said heavily, as his eyes swept the table. “They might point to the fact that Captain Santana was court-martialed for disobeying a direct order during a combat tour in the Clone Hegemony. I would counter that the order that the captain objected to was morally wrong, and point out that it takes a lot more courage to disobey an illegal order than it does to obey one. Add to that the experience gained on LaNor under Major Seeba-Ka here, plus the nature of his service on Savas, and you can see why I sent for him.”
“However,” Booly said, as his eyes returned to Santana,
“there is a political component to this situation that could be even more dangerous than the mission itself. So, before you make up your mind, here’s the rest of it.”
Santana listened in near disbelief as the Military Chief of Staff provided a verbal time line of events, including the strategy to conceal Nankool’s identity, and Vice President Jakov’s failure to authorize a rescue mission. Then, as the general completed his recitation, ChienChu stepped in. “I know this is a lot to absorb,” the entrepreneur said kindly. “But seven days have passed since Jakov fi?rst saw the pictures of Nankool being marched through the jungle. And we can’t wait much longer because each day brings the danger that one of the POWs will sell the president out. But if we send an unauthorized mission, then all of us could be charged with treason. And that includes you. So if you’re about to say no, which any logical person would, say it now.”
Seeba-Ka didn’t consider himself to be an expert at reading human facial expressions. No Hudathan was. But the offi?cer knew Santana pretty well. And, judging from what Seeba-Ka could see, the cavalry offi?cer was preparing to say no. Not because of a lack of courage, but because he feared that an unauthorized rescue mission would be doomed to failure and result in unnecessary casualties. But unbeknownst to the others in the room Seeba-Ka had a secret weapon at his disposal. Because he’d been on LaNor with Santana and Vanderveen and seen the two humans together. Not something he wanted to use—but something he had to use. The Hudathan reached out to capture a remote. “Before you answer that question,”
Seeba-Ka rumbled. “There’s one additional thing to consider. The president is important, but hundreds of other prisoners are being held on Jericho as well.”
