Chương 74: Command

Academy Hill, Vidako Imperium Stellarum February 12, 2848 Arc had never entirely been comfortable with the prospect of being in Commandant Marlowe's office. He suspected that wasn't true for Cassie; after all, she'd been brought in for a bit of politics over a meal within her first week of arriving at the academy. And while Arc might have gotten a bit more used to being in the commandant's presence during the evenings at fencing club, he'd only really ever gone to her office because there was a problem.

If nothing had gone wrong, there was no need for him to be there. And this time, a lot had gone wrong. He had little to do but think about it, while the MPs escorted him through campus, in full view of the other cadets as they hurried to and from their classes. The two escorts stuck out, both by virtue of their uniforms, which, rather than the gray tunic of a cadet, were the blue of fleet, surmounted by a black armored tactical vest with 'Military Police' in white lettering on both the back and the front.

They each carried a holstered sidearm at their belt, and both their formal bearing and their position at his shoulders made it clear at a glance that this was no friendly stroll. He recognized many of the faces turned in his direction, and their eyes made his face burn with shame. There was Kievit Red Crest, head turning, owl-like as if on a swivel, to watch him pass as she paused beneath one of the black-leaved live oak trees.

Jimmy Tierny, who'd been his roommate at the infirmary after they'd both had their neural lace surgery, actually gaped, open-mouthed, as Arc passed him by. Professor DeVault, who looked to have been caught out between lectures by a small group of history students with questions, paused in whatever he'd been saying, met Arc's eyes, and frowned. It occurred to Arc that if he'd taken DeVault's offer to get him a transfer to the naval academy at Luna, none of this might ever have happened.

Of course, if he had, he wouldn't be with Cassie, either. And would Pika and Semirye be dead or dying, somewhere out in the jungle, or at the edge of the estuary? Left to their fate by someone who couldn't quite muster the courage to challenge Christina Fortin's orders? The absolute worst was that Cassie and all of his friends were clustered just off to one side of the steps which led into Montalban Hall, clearly waiting for him.

All of the girls were there with her—Rain, C'rise, and Vee, with Jessica lurking just far enough behind Cassie to be almost out of sight. Vijay Ayer was there, along with Abioye Taiwo and, to Arc's surprise, Cal Madine. Arc's roommate looked disapproving, with a severe frown and furrowed brow, but he was there, along with John Rixey and even Sloane Emonstone-Granville, who Arc suspected had come for Cal, rather than out of any concern for Arc.

"They've blocked your messages," Cassie called out, as the MPs hurried Arc by them and up the stairs.

"Pika's stable. You probably saved his life!" And then, he was through the doors, which were shut quite firmly between Arc and his friends. He felt a rush of relief once he'd had a moment to process what Cassie had shouted about Pika, which was quickly replaced by the feeling of someone pouring ice water through his veins when the MPs escorted him into the waiting room outside of the commandant's office.

"Have a seat," the soldier on the left told him. He was an older man, with a face that had begun to line and sag, but hard eyes which showed not a trace of mercy. Arc supposed that he couldn't blame the man: he probably saw the absolute worst of the academy in the course of his duties. Dealing with every assault, drug bust, fight, or case of harassment that came up, for years at a time—it must have a tendency to squeeze every drop of sympathy out of a person's heart. He didn't cause them any trouble.

Instead, he sat down right where they put him, and wiped clammy palms against the trousers of his pilot's jumpsuit. He almost put his hands in his pockets, and then decided that would look too casual, when he wanted to come off as respectful. Instead, Arc simply set them on his thighs, and then had to struggle not to fidget out of nerves. Arc, can you hear me? The words came faintly, as if from a great distance, echoing like voices bouncing in a cavern.

Some of the echoes were in a language that Arc didn't know, and it almost hurt to focus on them. The voice was familiar—a woman's. C'rise? They've blocked all messages carried through the school network to your AI, so this was the only way we had of speaking with you, C'rise explained. I hope that it doesn't make you uncomfortable. Just try to let it happen without fighting, and that will make things easier. Behind his desk, the secretary squinted at Arc suspiciously.

Arc looked down at his hands, doing his best to give the impression of being terrified. It didn't require much of an effort. Pika's alright? We were able to visit him this morning, C'rise said. They've surgically removed the eggs—two of them. Both were already dead. The toxin in the leaves, they think. Just like what Doctor Vogel said about the indigenous tree-cats. I was afraid I'd give him an overdose, Arc admitted. Pika weighs a hundred and thirty-six kilograms, C'rise told him.

I checked his medical records while we were in the room. And he's Alu'kan. It takes a lot of anything to knock him out, never mind kill him. Listen—there's going to be someone in there with you when you meet with the commandant. We need you to trust her. Who? Arc asked. But before C'rise could answer, the door to the office opened, and Commandant Marlowe stood there, with her hand resting on one edge, to catch it before it swung into the wall.

"Come in, cadet," she ordered.

"Sergeant, dismissed."

"Sir." The MPs each snapped off a salute, and then withdrew out into the corridor. Arc took a deep breath, got to his feet, and walked past Marlowe into her office. Just as C'rise had warned him, there was a woman who he'd never seen before sitting in one of the two chairs in front of the commandant's desk. She wore a black, pin-striped suit and wire-framed smart glasses, and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun from which not a single strand of errant hair escaped.

He walked over and waited next to the empty chair while Marlowe closed the door, circled her desk, and settled into her own seat, in between the two immense flatscreens set off to either side of her desk at gentle angles.

"Have a seat, cadet," Marlowe said. She waited while Arc did as she asked, and then continued.

"This meeting serves as formal notice of allegations against you for the events which transpired during your most recent patrol, under the command of Cadet Second Class Christina Fortin. The allegations consist of the following: absence without leave, leaving your post as sentinel before being relieved, and wrongful use and possession of a controlled substance, namely deathroot flower.

Finally, any time a subordinate relieves a superior of duty, for any cause, a hearing shall be convened to consider whether that action was appropriate. You have the right to counsel, and the academy will provide a judge-advocate to serve in such capacity." The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. With every word, Arc felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into deep water.

Trying to focus on anything happening in the room was like peering up from the bottom of an ocean, desperate for a glimpse of sunlight. Any one of those charges was, by itself, sufficient cause for a court martial. A sentinel leaving their post could be punished by execution, during wartime—and though the fighting hadn't come to Vidako, the Imperium was at war against the Na'xir swarm.

It isn't as bad as it seems, C'rise told him, her voice a dangling cord of light dropped down into the gloom of his fear and self-recrimination. You have people to help you. And you saved the lives of two cadets. It was enough to jostle him into motion. Arc swallowed, and forced himself to meet Marlowe's eyes.

"I met Judge-Advocate Courtenay when I testified for Sareth Khan's court martial," he said.

"Could I work with him?" Marlowe gave him a single, sharp nod.

"You may. I'll see to it. There will be an initial inquiry where a judge-advocate presents evidence to me, at which point I will make a recommendation to the superintendent, Rear Admiral Townshend, as to whether to proceed to a court martial, to an academy disciplinary hearing, or whether to dismiss some or all of the allegations. It will take several weeks to get all of that together.

As none of the accusations against you allege violent crimes, it is my judgement as commandant that you present neither a danger to your fellow cadets, nor a security risk. You will not be detained, and you are free to attend your classes. You are, however, barred from further patrols until such time as these allegations are resolved; and any request to leave campus, such as for a weekend pass, will be denied. Do you have any questions?"

Arc opened his mouth, hesitated, and then glanced over at the woman in the other chair, who hadn't yet spoken a single word. Did he detect a tightness around Marlowe's eyes and lips, at that?

"Commandant, I'd like to speak with Cadet Sandhurst privately for a moment," the woman in the glasses said. Now, Arc was absolutely certain that Marlowe's jaw clenched. She might actually be grinding her teeth.

"Of course." Marlowe rose from her desk, and Arc practically leaped up out of his own chair in response.

"I have other appointments, in any case. Just let my secretary know when you're finished with the office. Sandhurst, you should hear from Judge Advocate Courtenay before the end of the day. I expect you to be on time and present for all your scheduled courses tomorrow."

"Yes, sir." Arc saluted, and waited until the sound of the door closing told him that she'd left the room.

"Have a seat, Sandhurst," the woman in the other chair said. She lifted herself up just enough to angle her seat toward his, and, after a moment's hesitation, he followed suit, turning his own chair toward her before settling back into it. The woman in the spectacles reached into the pocket of her jacket, withdrew a small device, and pressed a button. The sound of static filled the room—not so loud that they wouldn't be able to hear each other speak, but present enough that Arc couldn't quite ignore it, either.

He felt a spike of pain from somewhere in his mind, but it didn't quite seem to be his pain, somehow—and then a sense of withdrawal.

"This will assure us of privacy," the woman explained.

"White noise to interfere with audio-recordings; jammers to prevent transmissions; and a charged crystal, courtesy of our new LeShaii citizens, to force away any telepathic observers." Arc hoped that C'rise hadn't been hurt too badly.

"My name is Monica Yarborough, and I'm a senior analyst for Imperial Intelligence. I work beneath Director Void Skimmer." Her gaze was steady, and Arc felt pinned by it, like one of the silk-moths on his home planet.

"It's... a pleasure to meet you, Miss Yarborough," Arc said. What imperial intelligence wanted with him, he had no idea. Wouldn't they have already come by now, if it was about Cassie? It couldn't be a coincidence that she was here just as he got back from his patrol, could it?

"I arrived on Vidako two days ago, to speak with Her Imperial Highness and with you," Yarborough explained.

"Unfortunately, you were already out on patrol, which meant I had to wait in the city for your return. Fortunately—for you—that means I was here for your incident in the jungle, and that I found out about it essentially as soon as you called for a medical evacuation." Arc nodded, wondered how anyone but academy staff were privy to secure communications, and then reminded himself that the woman sitting across from him was a spy, and that he probably didn't want to know.

If she actually worked directly for the director of the entire imperial intelligence apparatus, she might very well be the most dangerous person he'd ever been in the same room with.

"Let's begin with why I came here in the first place," Yarborough said, with a sigh. She pulled a tablet out of her pocket and unfolded it, then began stabbing at it with her fingers while she spoke.

"What we're about to discuss is classified, and you've already been given the appropriate clearance. I'm sending a form to your AI that you need to acknowledge. Among other things, it confirms that you understand that sharing any information I'm about to tell you with someone who isn't already read in on this is a crime and will be prosecuted as such. Your girlfriend and her parents know all this, by the way, so you can talk about it with her.

And you don't need to try to hide from her bodyguard; in fact, I encourage the two of you to make use of having an imperial guard around to secure the room whenever you do talk about this." For the first time since he'd returned to the academy, Iceni displayed scrolling lines of text in his vision. I don't know where this came from, the AI admitted. I can tell there's someone in the room with us, Arc, because you're talking, but—I can't see them. I don't like this.

"You're doing something to my AI," Arc said, before he could think any better of it. Yarborough smiled.

"Shackled Imperial AIs contain a backdoor that can be used to prevent them from perceiving or recording classified information," she explained.

"Try to keep it from panicking, if you can. This won't take long."

"It's her," Arc corrected.

"And her name is Iceni." He felt at once both angry and protective, and the strength of the reaction surprised him.

"Of course." Yarborough shrugged.

"I've been sent here regarding your duel with Fletcher Radecki. His father, senator Tarquin, is taking advantage of this incident to apply pressure to the imperial family in an attempt to position his own political ally on a powerful senate committee. This is, by definition, corruption. We need proof to take him down, and to protect the interests of the Imperium Stellarum as a whole, and the emperor personally.

We believe that Radecki will make a final offer, on behalf of his father, either to you or to her Imperial Highness—or both. We need you to hear him out. Give him every chance to talk, and have your AI record it. Refuse him, of course, but you're going to give every piece of evidence you collect to us."

"I wondered why he didn't let this go," Arc said.

"Why he kept pushing it. It didn't make sense to me."

"That's because you aren't immersed in the cesspool of senate politics," Yarborough grumbled.

"Put simply, Tarquin Radecki is a powerful man, with a lifetime of accumulated wealth and political connections. Blackmail, bribery—he's reached the point where he thinks he can do what he wants without consequences. That he can push the imperial family itself, and come out on top. He's wrong, of course, but we need your help to close the trap."

"And if I do this—what, you make the court martial go away?" Arc asked. The thought brought a rush of relief, and then a corresponding feeling of guilt. Wouldn't it be just as bad for him to get out of consequences for things he really had done? Exactly the kind of corruption that the Radeckis were trying to get away with?

"No," Yarborough said, and her words actually made Arc feel better.

"No, I'm not going to sweep whatever happened in the jungle under the rug. What I have made clear to Amelia Marlowe, however, is that the Imperium Stellarum requires this duel to proceed to its conclusion. That the emperor requires it. I'll be communicating the same thing to Rear Admiral Townshend later today. They can punish you however they see fit, so long as you show up on Chel, at the appointed time, to fight that duel. At which point I have a command for you."

"A command?" Arc was starting to feel more and more lost, unable to get his footing while he was hit with too much information at once. Monica Yarborough leaned forward, and Arc caught a whiff of her perfume: something that mixed vanilla and spice.

"Emperor Altair Janus Solaris commands you to win this duel in his name," she said.

"Tarquin and Fletcher Radecki have insulted the honor of the imperial family, and the honor of his daughter. They've dragged her name across the net of every planet, moon, ringworld, and ark-ship in the entire imperium, all to get one more shred of political power for themselves. This cannot be allowed."

"Your emperor commands you to crush Fletcher Radecki utterly," Yarborough continued.

"Decisively, so that your victory is without question. There can be no excuse the Radeckis might cling to, no escaping the result of what they've wrought. You will do this, and you will do it in such a way that Fletcher Radecki remains alive at the end of the duel. Your emperor asks this of you, and he does not accept failure. Do you understand, Arcturus Sandhurst?" Arc swallowed.

"I do."