I linked into the ground-based communications system and listened as the infantry advanced. There were two bridges between the spaceport and Lazarus and the defenders had dropped both of them into the water. As the infantry milled around, waiting for orders and bridging equipment, the defenders struck again and again, showering them with mortar fire and sniping from a safe distance. The infantry became more trigger-happy as their helicopters advanced overhead, clearing away the defenders until two of them were downed by handheld anti-aircraft missiles. The remaining helicopters promptly fell back and forced the troops to advance on the ground, inch by bloody inch. The bridge was repaired, allowing the infantry to advance… right into another ambush.
The system is more limited than I realised, I thought, angrily. In some ways, it was like a game — spot the ambushers before the ambush was tripped — but with very real consequences. The Heinlein defenders were good, perhaps as good as the Marines, or better. We rarely spotted an ambush until it was too late and as for the mines…by the time the infantry finally reached the city and started to seal it off, there was an entire string of burned-out tanks and IFVs behind them. The commanders on the ground, to judge from their signals, were growing frantic.
“They’re refusing to take prisoners,” one of them protested, in horror. “They just killed and butchered three of my men!”
“Call in an orbital strike,” another — harsher — voice insisted. “Kill them all!”
“Stand ready to deliver strikes on the city,” the Captain ordered, drawing my attention back to the ship. “If the Admiral wants it to fall quickly, he’ll have to order strikes.”
He was wrong. As the infantry pushed into the city, they met no opposition, apart from a handful of civilians who engaged them, as insane as it seemed, with handheld pistols. The infantry went through them like a knife through butter, but even so, they took casualties. The only real resistance occurred at what was supposed to be the Government Centre, which was held by a reinforced infantry company. Eventually, the commander on the ground called in a KEW strike and destroyed the building.
“Stand down from battle stations,” the Captain said. “John, you can go tend to your charges now; Kitty, Anna, pass control over to your seconds. Go get some rest.”
“Captain,” Anna said, “You’re exhausted too. You need some rest as well.”
“Later,” the Captain said. I was surprised that she dared to speak to him like that, but they had served together a long time. “You go get some rest. I’ll join you when Konrad arrives, ok?”
“Yes, sir,” Anna said.
There was no need to turn the secondary tactical console over to another officer, so I locked it and saluted the Captain, before departing the bridge. I had only thought that I was tired before, I realised numbly; I felt as if I wanted to collapse into my bunk and sleep, and yet I also felt horny. I stopped that line of thought when I realised that two of the reporters were on the verge of looking attractive, but still…having survived the battle gave me a charge. I barely thought about the infantrymen on the planet, but their war was only just beginning. I had the feeling that it definitely wasn’t going to end quickly for them, or for us. Who knew how long Devastator would be forced to remain in orbit around Heinlein?
“Well?” Frank Wong demanded, as soon as I entered their stateroom. The reporters all looked utterly terrified, although I saw no reason for their terror. They hadn’t seen the enemy starships on the offensive, or the massive planetary defence batteries on the surface. They’d just known that there was a battle going on…and they’d been trapped in their stateroom, almost as prisoners. Perhaps I should have felt a little sorry for them — they wouldn’t have known what was going on and therefore would have only had their imaginations to feed their fears — but I found it hard. They were obnoxious beyond belief. “What happened out there?”
“We won,” I said, flatly. They stared at me for a long moment, and then began snapping off questions, which I answered as best as I could. “Yes, there had been a battle, yes, we’d taken losses, yes, we’d taken the high orbitals, yes, the troops had landed…”
It seemed never-ending. I was grateful beyond words when Ellen Nakamura entered the cabin, giving the reporters her faintly-menacing smile. “The battle is over and the Admiral has proclaimed Heinlein a member state in the United Nations,” she said, and began her own explanation of what had happened. Apart from the detail that a battle had taken place, it didn’t seem to agree with mine on any point, even the fundamentals. She spoke of cheering crowds welcoming the UN infantrymen and hundreds of corrupt government officers being arrested and handed over to the infantry for their own protection. I knew for a fact that none of that had ever happened, but I kept my mouth firmly closed. It wouldn’t gain me anything to dispute her version of events. It was the version of events that would be spread back home and believed by everyone.
“You will all be allowed to go down to the planet soon enough,” she concluded. I felt a brief moment of sympathy for the reporters — the planet was nowhere near as safe as Ellen was promising them — but not much. They would probably end up getting killed on the ground and good riddance. “Lieutenant Walker will see to your requests tomorrow if you wish to go down sooner, but the transport is mainly required for infantry for the next week and we may not be able to fit you in.”
I half-expected a series of demands for immediate transport to the surface, but no one moved. “Let Walker know tomorrow,” Ellen finished. She gave them another half-smile. I watched in astonishment as the reporters responded to it and wondered where the real balance of power lay. “Enjoy your sleep, knowing that it is peaceful because of the valiant efforts of the Peace Force.”
She swept out and I took the opportunity to leave with her, leaving the reporters alone to write their stories. I knew now that none of them would see publication until Ellen and the Admiral’s horde of Political Officers had gone through them and rewritten them at will, just to conform with their own idea of what had happened. I didn’t want to deal with that, but there was no choice. Whatever happened in the weeks and months to come, the truth would be what the UN said it was…at least as far as the rest of the Human Sphere was concerned.
I shook my head slowly and made my way back to my cabin. It was strange to think that no matter how much I had complained about my cabin being tiny — if better than a shared Ensign’s wardroom — I was still comfortable, warm and well-fed. The Captain didn’t skimp on the food and the gallery staff knew better than to try to palm us off with bad ingredients, even though it was hard to work miracles with reprocessed foodstuffs. The soldiers on the ground would be under constant attack, living in their foxholes and desperately trying to stay alive on a planet that hated them. I remembered old friends of mine who had signed up for the infantry, having failed the exams for entering the UNPF Academy, and wondered what had happened to them. Were they down on the planet, struggling to survive, or were they already dead? We hadn’t been encouraged to write letters to friends and relatives in any of the services. I had no way to know.
I lay down on my bunk, trying to get some sleep, when there was a chime at the hatch. Surprised, I opened it, to see Kitty outside. She winked at me as she stepped inside and closed the hatch behind her. She looked good, as always, even though she was wearing a crumpled uniform. There were no dress uniforms when a battle was expected.