Free Lieutenant by Phil Geusz

that?”
    I nodded. “Of course.”
    He smiled. “Good. In that case… David, awful things happen in battle. Terrible, indescribable things. As you already know better than most, of course. Men find themselves tested in ways that they could never have anticipated. Sometimes they break. When that happens… Well, to be blunt, from time to time we find evidence of bad behavior on the part of our men. Once, for example, a Rabbit found a dead marine with a pouch full of left ears in his pack. They were being kept as trophies, as some men used to keep scalps. Two others in the same squad were saving ears, too. One was the NCO.”
    I winced. “What’d you do?”
    “What society wanted us to do, David. Which was what was right for the bereaved survivors back home. I mean… The men involved were beyond punishing. What could a court-martial achieve? And the mutilated Imperials were already dead, too. So what possible good would publicity do anyone, except to further wound the innocent bystanders back home?”
    My eyes closed, as if of their own accord. “So, the ears simply vanished.”
    “Of course!” the chief replied. “How could it be any other way? And as a result, somewhere there are orphaned kids growing up who’re still proud of their hero dads.” His eyes narrowed. “Now… You know the Imperials don’t take prisoners. To them, surrender is an act of inexcusable weakness—to wave a white flag is to elicit their deepest contempt. So… Do you know what the Imperials do if you try?”
    “I’ve heard rumors. Ugly ones.”
    “They’re true,” Lancester replied. “I’ve been involved in cleaning up after them. First they disarm you, then out the airlock you go. To surrender means drowning and exploding and flash-burning and vomiting your guts out all at one and the same time. You remain conscious far, far too long. And that's the best you can hope for; our enemies are capable of much worse.” He shook his head and sighed again. “Death in combat isn’t much to write home about either, David. You’ve seen enough of it already here to appreciate that. So, once the situation turns hopeless some choose another way. Quite a few, actually. In the case of Zombie, they’ve clearly done it in an organized manner.”
    “And we won’t tell the folks back home, because it’s easier for them if their loved ones died heroes?”
    “That’s only part of it, David. There’s other reasons, too. One, for example, is that mass suicide is bad for morale. It’s not something you want the other troops hearing about, especially the ones who make up the new garrison. People at home need heroes, too, and they’re growing more important to morale with each war we lose. Again, you of all people ought to know that.”
    I nodded—it was true enough.
    “Besides, it’s a lot easier to get funding to rebuild a Station where everyone fought to the death, rather than one where a large, well-trained and fully-armed garrison blew its own brains out due to sheer terrorized hopelessness. Wars are won and lost at the Treasury too, never forget.” He sighed. “Though I expect that this was the last time we’ll ever try to hold Zombie. No matter how large the turrets are and how thick the armor, a fixed fortification can always be defeated by enough ships and men. Destroying is always easier than protecting. The only effective defense is a relief fleet, which just isn’t going to happen this far out. Not until we start winning more fleet engagements, that is. And don’t hold your breath on that one!”
    I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. There was something terribly wrong with this whole situation, but I couldn’t quite get a handle on exactly what. Until that happened, the navy had taught me well as to what my response should be. “I see, sir.”
    “We’ll all be Imperials by and by, the way things are going.” He pointed towards the ceiling, where most of the Station remained as yet unexplored. “I’ll