that he would shoot her? Or submit and try to survive? A montage of images fl?ashed through the diplomat’s mind. Earth on a sunny day. Santana laughing at one of her jokes. Her mother waving good-bye. Reluctantly, Vanderveen brought her right hand up, and was just about to pull the zipper down, when Tragg intervened. “Remember this moment, Lieutenant. . . . Remember what you were willing to do in order to live. And remember that if I want you —I can have you. . . . Now get out.”
PLANET ALGERON, THE CONFEDERACY OF SENTIENT BEINGS
Having freed the village of Deepwell from Throatcut’s bandits, and with all the necessary permissions in place, Santana was eager to load Team Zebra onto a shuttle and get under way. But any hopes of a speedy departure soon began to fade as a host of last-minute activities conspired to suck time out of the schedule. Before the team could depart the offi?cer had to bring new members up from the pit, take delivery on new war forms, and account for T-2s lost in battle. A time-consuming affair that required the legionnaire to fi?ll out forms and argue with obstinate supply offi?cers. But by working both himself and his direct reports day and night, Santana was able to cut what might have been a week’s work down to a mere three days. As the parka-clad offi?cer watched the fi?nal load of supplies trundle up a metal ramp into the shuttle’s brightly lit hold, a personnel hatch swung open, and General Bill Booly stepped out onto the icy steel. Santana tossed the senior offi?cer a salute, and Booly returned the gesture. His breath fogged the air when he spoke. “You and your team did a good job in Deepwell. Congratulations.”
Though seemingly genuine, the smile on Booly’s lips didn’t match the look in his eyes, a fact that made Santana uneasy. “Thank you, sir. . . . But Jericho will be more diffi?cult.”
“Yes,” Booly agreed soberly. “It will. . . . Listen, Captain, I’m sorry to spring this on you at the last minute, but I was forced to accept a compromise in order to keep the mission on schedule.”
Santana swallowed. “A compromise, sir? What sort of compromise?”
“A staffi?ng compromise,” Booly answered darkly. “Apparently Jakov, or one of his toadies, decided that it would be nice if the offi?cer in command of the mission has political ties to the vice president. Something you lack.”
Santana began to speak, but Booly held up a hand. “Believe me, I’m sorry, and if it were possible to intervene, I would. The people who backed this mission from the beginning might be able to force the issue, but that would take time, and time is something we don’t have. The decision to attack Deepwell made sense and will no doubt pay off in the end, but further delay is out of the question.”
Santana remembered the photos of Vanderveen being marched through the jungle and nodded. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Besides,” the other offi?cer continued fatalistically, “be it right or wrong, the fact is that we went around the vice president on this, and it’s payback time. It isn’t pretty—
but that’s how the process works. Fortunately, the man Jakov has in mind looks like a good candidate. His name is Major Hal DeCosta, and although I don’t know him personally, he has a good record. DeCosta doesn’t have any cavalry experience, I’m afraid, but he’s known for his nononsense style of leadership and at least one member of my staff swears by him. You’ll serve as Executive Offi?cer. . . . Everything else will remain the same. Questions?”
Santana had questions. . . . Lots of them. Especially where the new CO’s lack of cavalry experience was concerned—but knew the general wouldn’t be able to answer them. He shook his head. “No, sir.”
Booly nodded understandingly. “I know there are all sorts of things that the major will have to come to grips with before he can take over. But I’m counting on both you and Farnsworth to bring him up to speed during the trip out. He’ll arrive in the next fi?fteen minutes or so—
but I wanted you to hear the news from me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Santana said sincerely. “I appreciate that.”
“It was the least I could do,” Booly allowed, as he extended his hand. The grip was warm and fi?rm. “Thank you, Captain, and good luck. Our prayers will be with you.
“Oh, and one more thing,” the general said, as if by way of an afterthought. “I know you’re busy, but a member of President Nankool’s staff is here to see you off, and I would appreciate it if you could spend a couple of minutes with him.”
Booly turned back toward the personnel hatch, and there, standing in a cone of soft buttery light, stood Charles Winther Vanderveen. He was a tall, patrician-looking man, with thick gray hair and eyes the same color as his daughter’s. He was stationed on Algeron and had been ever since the government moved there. And, having completed his business on Earth, the diplomat had returned only to discover that the man he reported to had been captured by the Ramanthians.
The general saw the look of recognition on Santana’s face, and wondered what, if anything, the two men had in common. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Captain,” Booly said. “Kill some bugs for me.”
The offi?cers exchanged salutes, and Booly nodded to Vanderveen as he reentered the fortress. Snow crunched under his shoes as the diplomat came out to greet Santana.
“Tony, it’s good to see you again.”
“And you, sir,” the offi?cer replied, as they shook hands.
“I heard about DeCosta,” Vanderveen said angrily. “I’m not supposed to take sides—but I can’t help it. The vice president is an idiot.”
Santana grinned broadly. “If you say so, sir.”
“I do,” the other man said fervently. “And I’m not alone. . . . But you know that.”
There was a moment of silence as their eyes met, then drifted away. The diplomat spoke fi?rst. His pain was clear to see. “Christine is on Jericho you know.”
Santana nodded. “Yes, sir. I know.”
Vanderveen searched the younger man’s face. “And that’s why you agreed to go?”
“Partly, yes.”
