"You've got the fort. Mason and I are going to wander out and prevent a pogrom."
"Yessir." Kilgour was at attention. If he was angry at being excluded, Alex was too consummate a professional to show it around an outsider.
Mason's expression was incredulous for one beat before it, too, froze into military attention. "Are you assuming command?"
"I am, Admiral."
"Very well. I must caution you there is an inadequate amount of time for any Imperial reinforcements to reach us before the Suzdal and Bogazi will be in contact. I already ran the progs."
"So I figured, as well," Sten said. "Not that we'd be authorized backup anyway-our Empire is spread fairly thin these days if you hadn't noticed.
"So we'll just pick up some indigenous junk, and you, me, and the Victory will clean some clocks.
"Shall we saddle up, Admiral?"
"Am I right, Alex, in not getting pissed that Sten left you, me, the Gurkhas, and the Bhor in place because he's officially still here in residence?"
"See, Major Cind? Y're learnin't 't' think. Another lifetime a three, an' y'll actually be allowed t' hae an idea."
"Clot off, Kilgour."
"Thae's clot off, Mister Kilgour t' you. Dinnae y' ken, Ah'm noo th' ambass'dor designate, an' deservin' wee respect."
"Exactly what you're getting. Very wee respect..."
Boredom has killed more soldiers than bayonets. It was what killed the Tukungbasi brothers.
Not just their own boredom, but their section sergeant had grown a little careless, as had the platoon leader and company commander, up through Colonel Jerety. Providing security for Dr. Iskra and the palace of the Khaqans had become a routine task.
The Tukungbasi brothers, in their first posting to a combat unit, were not happy. They had not joined the Guard to be used as honor guards or riot policemen. They never knew that no one in that Third Guards' battalion liked the assignment, especially the careerists. But, being professionals in a professional outfit, no matter that infantrymen never made good peacekeepers, they kept their mouths shut and soldiered.
Soldiered, kept their barracks and equipment spotless, drank the barely palatable local beer in the on-base canteen, and bitched.
Especially about the restrictions, which made no sense to the soldiers. They had been welcomed to Jochi, had they not? So why were they quarantined in their assigned quarters and recreation areas, which were sealed and closely guarded?
Maybe Jochi was a little rough, but they were combat troopies, weren't they? They were in no jeopardy, so long as they watched themselves.
The soldiers didn't realize that there had been too many livie minutes shown of them exerting the minimum-but-necessary force to keep Dr. Iskra safe, and also of them being used to prevent street fights from building into full riots. And they certainly weren't aware of the commentary that frequently accompanied that footage, let alone the stories that were created, built, and spread in the alksoaks and caff shops of Rurik.
Boredom...
Fortunately, the Tukungbasi brothers had a friend. One of the old women who worked in the canteen always greeted them with a smile and a bad joke. She said she was sorry they couldn't get out and meet the people of Jochi. Especially her granddaughter.
She showed them a holograph.
Both brothers agreed that the restrictions were more than a pity—they were terrible injustices. That woman in the holograph was very beautiful. The old woman asked if they would like to write her a note. One of them did. The note was returned. The young woman really wanted to meet the brother—and mentioned, in passing, that she had a girl friend who felt the same. Both of them were sorry they were natives of such a stupid world like Jochi, and wished they could have a chance to meet some real men from the outside. From worlds where things happened.
The brothers Tukungbasi, coming from a very rural backwater planetoid, were flattered.
The notes from the young woman and her friend grew more interesting. The Tukungbasi brothers lost all interest in any romance/lust with fellow soldiers. None of the women in the battalion—at any rate none who weren't already attached—could compare in beauty, let alone in suggested areas of romantic expertise.
One off-shift day, a note told them to walk near the perimeter wire. On the other side, tantalizingly close, within one hundred meters, were the two young women. Very beautiful, indeed. The young women waved, and it nearly killed the Tukungbasis not to acknowledge those waves.
They determined to get beyond the wire.
They could be out at dusk and back before dawn, their fantasies fulfilled. They started looking for mouse holes.
And since the Guards unit was infantry, not security specialists, and the perimeter was set to keep outsiders from getting in, not the obverse, they found one.
All that was necessary was to wire across one of the robot sniffers and slip out after the roving patrol passed. Of course that patrol had become routine, as well.
Beyond the wire they slipped out of their night-cammies and stashed them in an entryway. They admired each other, resplendent in full walking-out uniform. Everybody loves a man in uniform...
The Tukungbasis, inexpert in seduction, had at least decided to bring a bit of a present. They had bought two bottles of alk in the commissary, a brand neither had been able to afford. But since they had nowhere to spend their pay, both men were flush. Besides, this evening would be special.
The old woman in the canteen had given them a map to her granddaughter's apartment. Neither Tukungbasi thought it a bit odd that the old woman was actively conniving in the seduction of her granddaughter-the barracks rumors had already determined that anybody in the Altaics would do anything to anybody.
Not far from the truth-but not at all what the rumors intended.
The woman lived in an upper story of one of those vertical slum apartments. The Tukungbasis should have found it odd that the building was the only one in the row with a clearly marked address sign and an entry way light that wasn't shattered.
They found the apartment and tapped on the door.
They heard a feminine giggle and a sultry voice. "It's not locked."
The older brother turned the handle. The door swung open. He saw a shabby couch, a table, and two flickering candles. Then two shadows loomed on either side of the doorway, a filthy blanket was over his head, his arms were pinned at his side, and he heard a choked gurgle from his brother.
That was all he saw.
They burned his eyes out as a start.
The three sentries walking their post at the main entrance to Iskra's palace found the Tukungbasi brothers.
Their bodies were suspended from two hastily erected tripods about fifty meters outside the perimeter.
They were identified by their absence at a shouted emergency muster.
Their torturers had left them otherwise unrecognizable.
There was no sane reason, a grim Colonel Jerety growled to his staff, for these young soldiers to be killed.
Which was exactly the reason they had been slaughtered.
They were the first.
"I have a question, Mr. Kilgour."
"GA, Major." For some reason Cind was being formal, and Alex followed her lead.
"When someone is arrested, and held for trial, isn't it customary for them to be allowed some kind of representation? Even if the trial's going to be rigged? Even here on Jochi?"
"Ah'd so think."
"And isn't it normal for a prisoner to be allowed some kind of communication with his people? Even here on Jochi?"
"Thae's a leap in logic Ah'll no make, gie'n thae nature ae these charmin't folk we're dealin' with.
"Stop playin' riddle-me, Major.