Virtues of War (18 page)

“Two?” Breeze responded. “Is Captain Lincoln from the Fleet?”

“Lincoln?” Helena scoffed. “He doesn’t have a fighting bone in his body—I think he’d wet himself if we had to go through a jump gate.” She shook her head and pointed to a nearby young couple laughing over drinks. “No, Kane brought a little friend along with him to
Armstrong
—that giggling idiot Jack Mallory.”

Breeze sighed in frustration. Hadn’t anyone euthanized that puppy yet?

“He’s on your ship?”

“Yes, and ruining half the experiments we set out to perform,” Helena said. “He keeps flirting with my doctoral candidate, too—like he is right now.”

Breeze wasn’t sure what to believe. Jack was a moron in some ways, but a scary genius in others. He probably knew more about dark matter and the Bulk than this embittered old crow. More likely he was too busy chasing tail to realize it. A pretty clear picture began to emerge of what was going on aboard that damn research ship.

Excusing herself from Helena, she figured it was time to go and rescue Kit from Andy’s ravings. She strolled back slowly, though, curious now that she knew Jack Mallory was in the picture.

He was indeed talking and laughing with a young woman, whom Breeze recognized from the
Armstrong
records as Sublieutenant Amanda Smith. She was plain and plump, not the sort she’d expect Jack to chase. Indeed, as she watched more closely, she decided pretty quickly that the opposite was the case. Jack looked upon Amanda with little more than innocent friendship, but she looked back at him with something that was quite a bit more.

Breeze’s mood had darkened just enough that she decided to get this little floozy’s mind back on her job. She put a slink in her walk and glided right up to them, interrupting Amanda in mid-sentence.

“Hey, Jack.”

He jumped at her touch, eyes widening as he realized who was standing before him. That stupid grin split his features.

“Wow. Hi, Breeze.” He responded clumsily to her cheek kisses, automatically putting his hands on her waist. “What are you doing here?”

She didn’t shake off his hands, and even placed hers on his arms. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she replied. “A girl has to be mysterious though.” It was the perfect line to accompany the deep smolder with which she bore down on him.

He didn’t stand a chance. The poor boy tried to speak but couldn’t form words over his grin.

“Are you in town for a while?” she asked. “We should get together… like old times.”

“Uhh, yeah,” he said. “That’d be great. My ship is in and out a lot, but—”

“I’ll call you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

She released him and stepped away, casting a contemptuous glance at Amanda. The little scientist’s face was stony and her eyes blazed. Not at Breeze—she wouldn’t dare—but at Jack.

Sometimes it just felt good to hurt somebody.

As Soma introduced the newly arrived Admiral Chandler to the admiring Jovian masses, Thomas excused himself and made a beeline for his most unwelcome guest. He spotted Breeze walking away from Jack and Amanda, predatory eyes scanning the garden party.

She was stunning. There was just no other word for it. Her dark brown hair was shorter than he remembered and ironed straight, the tips just brushing against her bare shoulders. Her blue eyes were highlighted by her form-fitting, strapless summer dress, and her long legs were revealed through high slits with every step. She wore only minor jewelry, instead highlighting her natural assets to draw the eye.

She treated him to her most dazzling smile.

“Thomas, thanks for letting us crash your party.”

He stepped in her path, stopping her with hands on her elbows. To disguise the gesture he smiled and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“What are you doing here?”

“I heard you were having a little get-together.” In her heels she was nearly his height, and she gave him a sly look. “Since we work together, I assumed it was an accident that I wasn’t invited.”

“It’s a private party.”

“No doubt.” She looked over his shoulder toward the pond and Soma’s cluster of friends. Then she ran a hand across the thin fabric of his shirt. “Maybe I should steal you away for a private party of our own.” The subtle scent of her perfume and the warm proximity of her body was intoxicating, but he forced himself to take a step back.

“I don’t think my wife would appreciate that.”

Breeze’s smile turned to ice. “I don’t think your wife would appreciate knowing that you enjoyed a few ‘private parties’ during the war,” she said. “You
were
engaged at the time, weren’t you?”

He crossed his arms. “What do you want, Breeze?”

“I need to know how to proceed with my Fleet Marshall Investigation,” she said, dropping the pretenses. “I need to be sure who’s going to take the fall. You, or your sweet Katja?”

“Why does anyone have to take the fall?”

“Because certain members of the government have been embarrassed by this war, and they want villains to sacrifice,” she replied. “No one too senior, of course, but not some lowly trooper.” She gestured smoothly with her hand. “It has to be someone just right—network ratings matter.”

“Then come after me, Breeze.”

She considered for a moment, studying him.

“I hope you understand what this means.”

“I do.”

“Are you really ready to widow dear Soma?”

“She’ll be at my side when I deliver the folded flag to your family.”

Her smile turned sincere. “I must admit, I’m a little surprised. I really didn’t think you had that kind of nobility in you.”

“Katja’s war is done,” he said. “This one is ours.”

“Well said, Thomas.”

He glanced over to where Kit Moro was still trapped in a conversation with Andy Lincoln. “You seem to be making friends since our return.”

Breeze maintained a nonchalant expression. “I needed a date.”

Moro excused himself from Lincoln, who looked disappointed at having lost his audience, before moving to speak to a cute blonde who had just emerged from the house.

Thomas’s mood lightened instantly. “Uh-oh.” He looked back at Breeze, sudden amusement growing as he saw her cheeks redden almost imperceptibly. “You might be losing your date.”

She laughed lightly. “I don’t own him. He can talk to whoever he wants.” Her habitual charm returned as she stroked his back. “Mrs. Kane might get jealous, but I don’t.”

“No? Well that’s good,” he said. “Because your date is chatting up Katja.”

The hand dropped away like a stone, and Breeze took an involuntary step forward. Thomas couldn’t keep the smirk off his face.

“Hardly recognize her with that long hair, hmm?” he noted. “And she’s certainly stayed fit, hasn’t she?”

But he, too, had lost his audience. Breeze was already stalking off, leaving a wake of sweet perfume.

* * *

Breeze moved with purpose. What was so fascinating about that little blonde psychopath?

Katja noticed her approach and took a single step backward, bare feet flexing on the grass. Breeze forced herself to slow down, chastising herself for overreacting. Kit followed Katja’s gaze and glanced casually over his shoulder, greeting Breeze with a warm smile.

“Ah, here she is.” He extended his arm and gently pulled her close. “I was just talking to Lieutenant Emmes about how you and I met. Apparently the good lieutenant is still trying to figure out her new Baryon. Maybe you should show her a few tricks.”

“I doubt the lieutenant would be interested in my little tricks,” Breeze said as lightly as she could muster.

“You’ve got that right,” Katja said. The long hair and simple dress were a remarkable transformation, but that cold, butchy voice was as hard as ever. It made Breeze want to shift the target of her investigation, just out of spite—but she and Thomas had reached an understanding, and he’d prove more satisfying prey anyway.

Katja was good at killing things, but she had all the social subtlety of a mother walrus. There was still a pretty good chance, in Breeze’s estimation, that she’d do herself in before too long. She didn’t need any help.

“I’m
so
glad you’re feeling better, Katja,” she said, starting to pull Kit away. “You should probably say hello to Thomas, before his guests steal him again.”

Katja didn’t reply. She gave Kit a strange glance, and then marched off at a brisk pace.

Maybe
, Breeze thought,
I’m being too hard on mother walruses.

Katja didn’t have far to go. Thomas was hovering nearby, although with the overall noise of the party, his words of greeting were lost. He gave her elbow a quick squeeze, then stepped distinctly back. They exchanged a few comments, then Thomas pointed over toward Jack, who’d been abandoned by his hapless admirer.

Katja brightened visibly, and she walked across the grass to greet the young pilot. Kit nodded in Jack’s direction.

“Another friend of yours?”

She felt a moment of envy at the easy rapport between Thomas, Katja, and Jack, but brushed it off with a laugh.

“Just a kid I used to know, like a little brother.”

He raised a single eyebrow, but laughed as well.

“I see that Admiral Chandler is holding court,” he observed. “Do you want to sidle our way in?”

Sure enough, Chandler was in the middle of a large group of guests. Normally she wouldn’t miss a chance to further ingratiate herself to the man who was fast becoming her patron, but she suddenly found herself weary of the games. What she really wanted, she decided, was to have a nice, non-political evening with a man she found fascinating.

“No thanks,” she said. “I just can’t help feeling bad for you.”

Surprise creased his handsome features. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been in Longreach a month, and you still haven’t tasted the best Italian food on the planet.”

Comprehension dawned. “Ahh, yes: the fabulous Emilio’s. I thought you were all talk.”

“Oh you’ll find I’m much more than that.” She took his arm and together they headed for the security gate.

* * *

Thomas watched Breeze disappear into the house with her date, and felt a wave of relief. It was impossible to tell what damage she’d caused, but he was pretty sure he’d minimized her impact.

Katja’s laughter suddenly brought him back to his immediate surroundings. Jack was just finishing a story, much to her obvious delight.

“That sounds normal,” she said. “I usually got hurt flying with you, too.”

Thus encouraged, Jack launched into another story. Katja seemed comfortable in her surroundings, and he felt it safe to excuse himself. Nothing like a pilot, apparently, to soothe a nervous female. He made sure to compliment Katja on her dress. Her lack of jewelry and bare feet made her look a bit rustic next to the Jovians, but she’d clearly made an effort to appear civilian.

He left her in Jack’s care. Finally making his way back to Soma’s crowd, he saw that canapés were being circulated. Accepting a glass of wine, he scanned the crowd for Chuck Merriman, a potential ally. The reporter and those in his conversation cluster regarded Thomas with curiosity as he approached.

“We thought we’d lost you,” Chuck commented.

“Oh, just saying hi to a few old friends.”

“You’re just too much in demand.”

Thomas laughed and raised his glass. “Here’s to the freedom we fought for—the freedom to drink away my entire day.”

Polite laughter rippled through the group as they clinked glasses and drank. Thomas made a point of catching Chuck’s eye and subtly motioning toward the pond, then excused himself and wandered over to the buffet. He absently selected a few morsels, watching until he saw Chuck separate himself from the group and wander nonchalantly away.

Thomas quickly approached, before anyone else could get in the way. Despite the outward serenity in his conversation with Breeze, he knew that they were now playing the game for keeps. He needed powerful allies, and fast.

“Chuck, Soma tells me that your star is rising in the media business.”

The reporter shrugged with easy modesty. “I’ve been lucky enough to break a few good stories.”

“There’s been a lot of coverage of the recent troubles, but most of it has been superficial,” Thomas said. “I was hoping we could get something a bit more… substantial… offered to the public.”

“Well, you know how it is with the military,” Merriman said, looking around. “All the best news gets hushed up.” He looked vaguely interested, though. “We have to toe the line most of the time, or the State feels the need to get involved.”

“I hear you.” Thomas glanced over at Chandler, still surrounded by admirers, and Bush, who was eagerly trying to join the limelight. “But if I could get official sanction, would you be interested to get the inside track on some high-profile weapons research?”

There was nothing vague about his interest now as Chuck turned toward Thomas.

“It would certainly make for a good story,” he agreed. “What do you have in mind?”

“Have you heard anything about the Dark Bomb?”

The glass door to her balcony thumped under the buffeting wind, then hissed with the brush of fine dust grains skimming off the city streets.

Katja winced at the sound, but forced herself not to back away. The sun in the sky was golden yellow, not the hot white of Sirius nor the deep orange of Centauria. Even through the glass she could feel the heat on her face, and she reveled in the enveloping warmth of home.

Home. This was her new home. She cast her eyes across the busy urban street. Scores of people moved under the partial relief of the awnings jutting from each building, cars and buses passing efficiently along the black road toward the broken, white-capped surface of Lake Sapphire. The boardwalk was busy despite the rising winds, although some of the cafes were starting to gather in their deck furniture.

She tried to pick out individual details, tried to guess at pedestrians’ destinations or purposes, but once she’d assessed their gaits and builds—and their threat levels—her imagination failed her. All these people, just living their lives and caring their cares, oblivious to her presence…