CeeGee Captain, but Momma told me never to hit a woman. So I’ll just have to blow your Goddamned head off.”
Captain Deng stared at him, her considerable pride and self-importance struggling with an increasing conviction that the young officer would do exactly what he was promising, despite the probable consequences. In the end, it was an easy victory for self-preservation.
“Lieutenant Munos,” she said quietly, “get the troops back in the APC’s.”
“But Captain,” the man protested, rifle still trained on McKay.
“Do it now, Munos,” she growled, “or, God help me, I’ll shoot you myself.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The XO relented reluctantly, lowering his weapon with a sigh. “Platoon leaders!” He ordered, turning back toward the troops. “Back in the vehicles now! We’re going back to the armory. On the double!”
Slowly and carefully, Jason pulled the muzzle of his pistol back from Deng’s face, but still kept it trained on her from hip level.
“Don’t think this is over.” She shook her head, rage burning behind her dark eyes. “No Intelligence spook is going to come in here and push my command around and get away clean. Your superiors
“I expect so,” Jason agreed. “Make sure you get their names right, though. There’s only two of them, so it should be easy to remember: Kenneth Mellanby and Gregory Jameson.” He smiled wryly, hoping it hid the way his gut was twisting. “Say hi to ’em for me.”
The Captain opened her mouth, but bit back her reply, choosing instead to turn on her heel and stride purposefully back to one of the armored vehicles. McKay felt a bit light-headed and fought to keep from swaying as the APC’s started up and pulled away from the warehouse, heading out across the rocky plain back toward Kennedy. Behind him, he could hear the crowd, which he’d shut out for the last few minutes, cheering and yelling insults at the retreating CeeGees.
“Holy shit,” he heard himself sigh, almost unconsciously, as he reholstered his handgun.
“Colonel Mellanby was right,” Shannon Stark mused, running a hand through her hair. “This assignment won’t be boring.”
Vinnie stepped over to Jock and the pair shared a subdued high five. McKay looked back at Valerie O’Keefe, who was staring at him, wide-eyed.
“Ms. O’Keefe,” Jason told her, surprising himself with the coldness of his tone, “I remember asking you to stay inside the building. If you’d like to stay alive long enough to finish this little tour, maybe you’d better think about dropping the antimilitary hostility and listening to me. As for you, Mr. Mulrooney”—he turned on the man, who looked as if he were about to say something in Val’s defense—“
Without another word, Jason stalked away from the group and found a shadowy corner of the warehouse to lean against. Closing his eyes, he fought to control his breath—he felt as if he were on the verge of hyperventilating and his legs were very, very weak. He forced himself to put the situation into a coherent thought: he had put a gun in the face of a Colonial Guard Captain and threatened to kill her, in the process taking the risk of having two full platoons of armored CeeGees blow him and his whole command into little bits. Yeah, that’s what he had done all right.
“Jason.” He heard a voice and looked up to see Shannon approaching.
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
“I’ve never heard of that regulation about the senior intelligence officer having authority over CeeGee personnel,” she told him, green eyes glinting softly in the lights of the flitter.
Jason found himself chuckling as he straightened and headed for the open door of the aircraft.
“That’s because,” he said, not looking back, “I made it up.”
Chapter Five
“People who bite the hand that feeds them usually lick the boot that kicks them.”
“Damned macho-bullshit, testosterone-junkie military punk,” Val could hear Glen grumbling as he unpacked his clothes from the suitcase on the bed into the room’s closet. They’d been back at the governor’s mansion for over an hour, and he hadn’t ceased to bitch about the actions of Colonel Deng and Lieutenant McKay the whole time.
Val sighed softly, leaning out of the third-floor room’s open window and looking up at the stars. She remembered how breathtaking it had been the first time she’d seen the stars from an alien star system, how it had carried such incredible possibilities with it. Perhaps, she had thought, the new perspective could bring out a new way of thinking, even aid in the evolution of the human species. She realized now how naive she had been. Simply opening up a new frontier hadn’t been enough. The explorers of the Twenty-third Century were just as exploitative and greedy as those of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth.
The only way to change things was to change the laws; the attitudes would follow, as they had with civil rights in the 1950’s and 60’s. The military would have to be disbanded, or at least cut back, and forced emigration would have to stop. The exiles who wished to return to Earth should be allowed to, and those who wanted to stay should be given adequate supplies and funding to live with some kind of dignity. Corporate influence over colonial policies would have to end, as would the awarding of huge tracts of fertile land to friends of important politicians and corporate leaders. Things had to change.
And among the things that might have to change, she reflected, glancing back at her fiance, who was still grumbling to himself, was her relationship with Glen. Ever since they had left on this tour, he had become insufferably protective and obnoxious. As distasteful as she found Lieutenant McKay and his militaristic attitudes, she appreciated what he had done in protecting the farmers against the atrocities of the Colonial Guard. Oh, she was sure he did it to protect her as a function of his duty, but it had been the right thing to do, nonetheless. Yet all Glen could do was bitch and moan about the Intelligence officer’s actions, as he had the whole time. She understood his frustration, but he was doing nothing but making things worse. And if he couldn’t keep his cool when confronted by situations as basic as this, how would he react to the kind of psychological warfare that could be waged by Greg Jameson?
Of course she still had feelings for him, but choosing a lifetime companion wasn’t entirely an emotional decision. She had things she wanted to accomplish in her life, and they could only be achieved by high political office. She would need a husband who could retain his composure under pressure, and it was not at all clear that Glen was that man.
She was a bit startled when she felt Glen nuzzle against her neck—she’d been so lost in thought, she hadn’t noticed when his tirade had ended.
“What are you so caught up in, honey?” he asked her, kissing her ear affectionately.
She considered telling him, but a look at the trust and dependency in his eyes robbed her of the will. There would be time for that later.
“Just the stars,” she lied, stroking his hair gently. “Just the stars.”
Jason hesitated in front of the door, suddenly feeling very foolish. He was an adult and an officer—he shouldn’t have to beg some whacked-out wannabe ninja to cooperate with him. But, he sighed softly to himself, since he
“Yes.” He heard Tanaka’s voice carry through the native wood.
“It’s Lieutenant McKay,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”
“Come in.”
