“Kvannis here. The landing was unsuccessful. Be advised I can get you on a flight to Makkavo if you can reach Ordnay in the next ninety minutes—”
“It’s a two-hour drive—”
“The flight leaves in ninety minutes; take it or leave it.”
“I’ve got my own damn plane—where do we meet?”
The line went dead. Fine. Malines was shouting into his skullphone when he turned up the volume. “Calm down, Derrin. Kvannis called me. He’s pulling out of Ordnay—”
“What about us? What about me? I’ve got—”
“Can your people get around the harbor to the south docks? We have a ship there, ready to go. Zazdotlyn.”
“Is that where you’re going?”
“No, I’m going inland. But I’ll call the ship. Captain’s name is Mohardhri.” It might just be time to sever the old connection with Malines, if enough Malines—the ones who knew where the bodies were buried—didn’t make it out. “I’ll call him but here’s an ID code for you: Better Days.” He ended that call, made the call to the Zazdotlyn’s captain, and gave his instructions. Most Quindlan aircraft were somewhere else, as usual—their air freight service was much smaller than Vatta’s, though just as widespread. But the executive craft were always available… if he could get to the small airport south of the city and if the weather allowed a flight. He called the staff he wanted, picked up his overnight bag, and left his wife asleep in her suite.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Ky had lost track of time, focused as she was on the fighting. The attack on the Academy itself had been easily repelled, mounted mostly by civilians—Quindlans or Malines, she assumed—and only two Academy staff had been injured, not seriously. The attack on the condominium tower where Grace lived had been partly successful—a hundred of the enemy had made it inside—but they had been defeated, finally, by the unit assigned to protect the Rector, the General Secretary of the legislature, and the heads of the three major parties. Eight casualties there, including two fatalities, one of them Cadet Price.
The main fighting, concentrated around the government center, had been more sustained, as expected. Some of the enemy troops had made it into both the Palace and Government House, but the majority had been repulsed, again and again, along both sides of the central plaza. Snow continued to fall, making the fight even harder when the power went out and the lights failed. This gave the enemy a chance to withdraw without effective pursuit, though by then they had lost well over half their number. And a better chance to penetrate into the city singly or in small groups. She checked with General Molosay’s staff.
“We’re doing well. With the help of AirDefense and our limited artillery, we’ve halted the advance of the column approaching from the west. We’re mostly in the mopping-up phase.”
“What about Ordnay?”
“Ordnay is still not secured, but Jesek and both the bases near Port Major are, and Ordnay’s lost its air traffic control and two of its three runways, plus a number of aircraft. Do you need additional troops in the city?”
“Yes,” Ky said. “Power’s out, and though we cut the numbers down, we still have individuals and small groups that escaped the cordon and got out into the city. We don’t have enough, even if we used every single cadet, to do the necessary sweeps.”
“Reinforcements will arrive within the hour.” A code contact string followed.
Dawn came late, under the clouds and on one of the shortest days of winter. “No firing in the last forty-five minutes,” MacRobert reported. Troops from the Joint Services base had swept the city within a kilometer of Ky’s command vehicle. Snow had lightened to occasional thin skeins lasting only a minute or so. Ambulances were rolling, carrying wounded from both sides back to Marvin J. Peake Military Hospital.
“I’m going to see what kind of peace we have,” Ky said. She stood up, feeling stiff in hips and back. “Osinery, you’re with me. It’s likely to be gruesome.”
Ky made it to the line the cadets were still holding, with the help of seasoned troops, and met with their class advisers. “Major Leonidze, Major Massoudian, your classes have done extremely well. I understand you both have casualties—have all your wounded been evacuated now?”
“Yes, Commandant. The—the dead are over here, if you—”
“Of course.” Ky looked at the row of bodies laid out neatly. She had known they would lose some; each deserved recognition and respect. “I’ll call for transport.” She leaned over each, naming the cadet and murmuring a Modulan prayer for their soul’s passage. “I’m relieving all the cadet units; get them back to the Academy and we’ll hold a brief assembly first of all. I know they’re tired and hungry, but they need to know their effort is recognized and their sacrifices honored. I will need a list of all your casualties to read out to the assembled cadets.”
By noon, she had spoken to the assembly, naming each of the dead and wounded. Looking out at the solemn faces—now edged with a maturity they had not shown before—she thought how different their experience was from her own first encounter with violent death. “And all of you—every class—showed that you are in fact qualified to be future officers. I am honored to be your Commandant.” When dismissed, they marched out heads high, but she knew there would be a backlash in the next day or so. Well, she had resources for them that she’d lacked for herself.
In the meantime, she had the evidence she needed to report certain faculty members to General Molosay as conspirators, and she had the report on Colonel Bohannon’s attack and death to file. Eventually there’d be an official investigation. Writing and filing reports took up the rest of her day.
Over at the government center, workers were still digging bodies out of the snow—none of her force, at least—and the regular troops reported sporadic firing and resistance in the business district. All the buildings had damage. But none of the government officials had been hurt—a fair trade, Ky thought.
At the harbor, a Quindlan ship had sailed from the south docks before dawn, and was making good time eastward, apparently bound for the west coast of Voruksland. By report it was carrying farm machinery and other manufactured goods; the manifest and course had been certified the day before. Ky suspected that was a lie, but Voruksland had been notified; they would deal with it when it arrived. Other ships had left even earlier, their captains declaring it was safer at sea in a blizzard than in a harbor under attack, so the Quindlan ship’s departure didn’t raise any questions.
Stella, Rafe, and Grace all reported in by midafternoon, to Ky’s relief, though she had little time to talk to them. The Academy needed all her attention now that Molosay had officially relieved her of her task of protecting the government.
Four days later, it was certain that a general uprising had been avoided. The survivors from Miksland had been interviewed repeatedly as they recovered, and they had expressed such anger at the treatment they’d received from those trying to keep Miksland secret that public sympathy turned hard against the insurgents. Fighting in the cities of Dorland and Fulland had lasted a couple of days, but it was clear that the Unionists outnumbered the Separatists. Traitors, they were now called. The governors of every continent and province declared full confidence in the planetary government and allegiance to it. Dorland’s pointed out that they’d prospered much more after the Unification than before it. Sporadic raids by Separatists over the next day had been met with blunt words and gunfire by the rural population, and on the fourth day, the last Separatist group surrendered to the chief of a fishing village.