“No! Of course not! Why would you doubt my—”
“Because of what you’ve said. It’s clear you are being influenced by Marek; you and he have discussed me behind my back; you or he or both assumed a sexual relationship. That is disloyal, and not something I expected from any Cascadian. So I do doubt you, and on good grounds. Your behavior would warrant disciplinary action in a Slotter Key unit. Explain to me how you convinced yourself that your actions have been appropriate.”
Jen blinked. “You think I was disloyal? What about you?”
“Right now, we’re talking about you. What part of military courtesy includes gossiping about your commander with an enlisted man?” Ky kept her voice level.
“I didn’t—it wasn’t like that.”
“Explain it to me. What was it like?”
“You don’t have to be so harsh—you’re scaring me.” Jen’s voice rose.
“Commander Bentik,” Ky said, “answer the question.”
“It wasn’t gossip. It was—I was concerned. He was concerned. We were discussing legitimate concerns—”
“Secretly,” Ky pointed out. “Even if they were legitimate concerns, you were conspiring against a commanding officer—”
“No!” After a moment, Jen went on. “We weren’t—but he was concerned. He came to me as an officer—he said you were…” She reddened again. “…too casual with him. With everyone, really, but especially him, and he didn’t know how to handle it. That you were too young to have such high rank, and clearly you were a genius with space combat, but he’d seen brilliant young women officers before and they mostly had this weakness when it came to relationships with men. They… they didn’t know how… he hoped I would be able to help you, he said, because I was more mature, more stable…” Her voice trailed away; her gaze shifted from Ky.
“And you believed him,” Ky said, making it almost an accusation.
“Well… yes. You said yourself he was a good senior NCO; I could see that you liked him, trusted him. He was always respectful, serious, concerned about everyone. Very conscientious.”
“And flattering to you,” Ky said.
“He never said anything like that!”
“He flattered your age and experience. I can imagine it felt natural. Deserved.”
“Well… yes. I am older. In my military, I would be the commander. I come from a good family, with a good reputation. I do have more experience—”
“In some things, certainly. In others perhaps not.” Ky struggled to find words Jen could understand and then accept. Her anger had cooled; she felt a twinge of pity for this woman, so upright, so convinced of her own virtue. Marek would have noticed by now they weren’t at breakfast. Would he panic and come after them? Did he have a weapon? “My problem now—as the senior officer, as the officer presently in charge of this unit, irregular as that may be—is that you, who should be my second in command, have no experience in either our present tactical situation or commanding non-administrative troops. Worse, you do not respect my experience in those areas.”
“I—I do respect you—”
“Really? Because what you’ve said this morning—and your behavior with Master Sergeant Marek—certainly doesn’t sound like it to me. It sounds much more like someone who has completely lost respect for her commander, both as a competent officer and as a person of character.”
Jen said nothing, looking as if she was about to cry. Did she finally grasp how far out of line she had been? For the sake of them all, Ky could not afford to pity her, not now. “We are still in a dangerous situation,” Ky said. “Not merely being marooned far from any aid during the worst of winter, dependent on this facility and what it holds—which at least seems to be sufficient, with care, to last until spring. But also the fact that we are occupying a facility that is not supposed to exist. Has it not occurred to you that those who have such secrets want them kept? That a change in seasons may bring us not rescue but those intent on protecting their investment here and killing us?”
“Of course they wouldn’t—even Slotter Key is civilized—Marek said—”
“What?”
“He said whoever used that landing strip would not mind that we used this in an emergency—they would be glad we’d survived; they’d take us back to the capital.”
“Marek said.” Ky shook her head. “Marek is not in your chain of command. Neither Cascadian nor SDF. You have no reason to trust what he says except that you prefer him to me.”
“That’s—that’s paranoia—”
“Master Sergeant Marek,” Ky said, biting off each word, “tried to kill me. He changed the voltage in the outlets in my quarters—he was probably doing that when you heard those noises you were so sure were a sexual escapade.”
Jen’s mouth fell open. Ky went on, not pausing.
“That is not the first thing he has done. He argued against landing in the bay, and then against exploring inland, even though it was obvious we could not survive at the shore without more supplies. After we found this base, he thought we should stay in the huts topside—you must have heard that—when it was clear the food stores there were not enough to last out the winter. Several times he tried to talk me out of my sidearm, claiming he was a better shot and might bring down one of those animals.”
“But he cares for the troops—”
“Yes, I believe he does. But not as much as he wanted all this”—Ky waved at the room—“to remain a secret. I suspect he thinks he can convince his allies—the ones who built the place—not to kill them all. I think he’s wrong about that. Someone who’s kept a secret like this as long as it’s been kept—while using regular military to work in it—will have killed before without a qualm.”
Ky opened a third cabinet, and then a fourth, rummaging through to check every container of ammunition. “Ahhh…”
“What?”
“Simple misdirection. Here are the 10mm rounds.” She set the boxes on one of the worktables, took out her spare clip, and changed out the chemstun rounds in it for more flechettes. “I can’t use chemstun rounds here until we locate some gas filters. Haven’t seen any yet. Slightly suspicious. They’re standard emergency stock for all Slotter Key military installations. Or were. It has been a few years.”
“You think someone took them—like they hid the ammunition?”
“Could be. Could be they weren’t supplied here for some reason.” Ky slid the last round home in that clip and considered the one in her pistol. All spudders now, the solid rounds that could punch through vital equipment in a spaceship or station. Did she want a mix with flechettes? She decided against it, not wanting her weapon unloaded for even an instant. She pocketed the remaining rounds, put her five chemstun rounds in the box that had held flechettes. She moved all the boxes to the first cabinet she’d opened, checking this one more carefully, and found five of the boxes of 10mm spudders behind the front stacks.
She wished she knew what weapon he had and what his proficiency really was. Though he had tried an indirect, clandestine method first, she was certain he had a firearm by now and would use it if nothing else worked to quietly remove her. Was it something that used 10mm ammunition? She did not want to face chemical rounds without protection.
The alarm she’d put on the door pinged. She looked at Jen, motioned to her to get down, out of sight from the door behind one of the worktables. She had her own weapon out, and eased over to the near wall. The door opened. Corporal Inyatta’s voice: “Admiral? Are you in here? Master Sergeant Marek is looking for you or Commander Bentik… we all are.” Inyatta’s hand was on the doorframe; her head poked in, but she was looking across the room, toward the door to the firing range.