Free First Casualty by Mike Moscoe Page B

could still die under one of these random shots. It didn't seem fair, to win a battle and get killed before it was over. Miners bitched about owners and their twisted idea of fair. War seemed to have no idea of fair. No idea at all.
    * * * *
    “Major Longknife, Senior Pilot Nuu here, and we've got a problem. The Hardy, Noble and Gallant are unfit for space. If the Earthies got more where those came from, we're in a world of hurt. Santiago tells me things aren't going well on your end either. I got people who want to lift. What can I do for you?”
    “We're in bad shape. Falling back fast as we can. Lighten what ships you got and pile troopers in. Launch them as fast as you fill them.”
    “How many troopers do we have to load on each ship? You offloaded seven hundred fifty-eight.”
    “The Second got bled plenty. I don't know what we've got now. The gear's not worth the lift, but the troopers are the brigade. Honey, you got to get them back. With them we can rebuild. Without them, we're all dead.”
    “Ray, you okay?” The voice went soft, no more the transport commander's.
    It was the softness that did it, took the lie from his mouth and let the truth out through clenched teeth. “No, friend.”
    “I could lift the Friendship, drop it down close to you.”
    “Probably on my head, girl. No, we evacuate by the numbers. You fill up a transport, you launch it away from their damn base. We'll make it,” he ordered. “Captain Santiago, you out there?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    'Turn those carriers around as soon as they get back. Pull drivers from A company. Tell them their ticket out is one trip forward. You having any trouble?”
    “Nope. Few hotheads want to go up and show the rest of you how it's done, but I got them taking care of the wounded right now. When are you coming back, sir?”
    “On the last carrier.”
    “I'll be driving it.”
    “And I'll be waiting for you,” Rita whispered.
    Major Longknife couldn't turn his head anymore. He didn't have to. The vision of a battle bravely started and badly wreaked was etched behind his eyes, never to go away. For two hours he waited as the remnants of the 2nd Guard streamed past. He should have ordered the artillery silent when it was obvious there was no pursuit, but it slipped his pain-wracked mind.
    When Santiago loomed over him, he didn't resist the pain spray. The battle was over. He'd lost this one big.
    * * * *
    Trevor Hascomb Crossinshield the Ninth stripped naked. He needed to meet the most powerful men on one hundred planets. They were in the sauna; he had exactly five minutes of their time. If he took less, it would be accorded a virtue to him. He could not take more.
    Wrapping a towel around himself, he slipped his feet into sandals and padded noisily toward his business appointment. He opened the sauna door only enough to slip in. These men did not suffer cold interruptions. He took the appropriate supplicant's seat on the lowest of the four tiers of cedar shelves, next to the hot stones. When asked, he would ladle water on them for more steam. He would do whatever he was told.
    The room was hot. How can they take the heat? Not born to this life—or wealth—Trevor doubted he could stand the heat of the highest tier. He would, however, find a place along the middle tiers most comfortable. Searching for the one who had invited him, Trevor risked a quick glance at the upper tier. Steam billowed and drifted there, hiding the men's faces. No, one was a woman. Her towel open, she stretched out languidly along the highest shelf, forcing men to either sit closer together or move to a lower bench. Was she a “companion” on display? The body was sculpted, expensive. Earned or...
    For a moment, Trevor caught her eyes. There was cold fire there, but nothing for him. He felt like he'd been hacked, the entire contents of his mass storage reviewed and not found worth the effort to format. Trevor snapped his eyes down, locked them on a floor tile and awaited notice.