CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Field Hospital
City of Tyrnavos
Planet Odysseus
Bellerophon System
Free Worlds Alliance
January 14, 2553
The Federation Army had arguably the finest medical technology in the human-explored galaxy. An entire trauma center, deployed from a single cargo container, could be ready to receive patients within minutes of being offloaded. Robotic and human doctors could treat almost any wound…if the casualty was delivered in time. And because time was so often critical, they were designed to be located anywhere, usually in close proximity to the fighting.
This one was located over eighty kilometers from Nafplio, in the town square of the much larger city of Tyrnavos, and Ahmet Yildiz tried not to think about why that was so as he stepped out of the temporary structure into the shadows of a setting sun.
More wounded flowed past him—a few of them ambulatory; most carried on litters—from the landing zone established on a rooftop parking structure at the edge of the square. He tucked his helmet into the crook of his left arm and scrubbed dried sweat from his face with the other hand, grateful for the fresh air and the cooling temperature. He inhaled deeply, then cocked his head as he caught an unexpected scent. Field hospitals tended to smell of blood and antiseptic, but this was a smoky sort of aroma, and he looked over his shoulder, seeking the source.
Another officer leaned against the field hospital’s outer wall, arms crossed over his chest and a nicotine tube between two fingers.
“Ahmet,” Major Arturo Lopez, Second Battalion’s S3, said. “Tough day.”
“Fuckin’ tell me about it.” Yildiz shook his head. “I’ve got one brain-dead and three more that need prosthetic limbs. And Benson’s gonna need nerve shunts to see out of that eye again. Once they fit his prosthetic, that is. And that doesn’t count the seven who never made it out.”
“Yeah, but look on the bright side. The General’s happy with you.”
Lopez offered his nicotine stick to Yildiz, and the captain reached for it. Then frowned as he noticed Lopez’s collar insignia. It was a lieutenant colonel’s.
“I thought your promotion board wasn’t for another six months…Sir,” Yildiz said as he took the stick and inhaled deeply before blowing the smoke out his nose.
“Funny, that,” Lopez said. “Soon as you left for your mission, Alaimo called Colonel Fiori up to spin the dial for the next torture—excuse me, the next ‘enhanced interrogation’—setting and Fiori balked. Alaimo had him taken away, and I got brevet rank and command of the battalion half an hour later.”
“Then where’s Fiori?” Yildiz asked.
“No idea.” Lopez shook his head. “I cause a stink looking for him, and I’ll probably find out the hard way. And that’s not doing anybody any good.”
“I wasn’t going to play Alaimo’s sick game either.” Yildiz glanced around. “That asshole called in a K-strike on my position. Then Central acts like they’re doing me a favor by giving me barely enough time to evac…Sir. Sorry.”
“It’s rare that a commander actually exceeds his reputation,” Lopez said.
“I really and truly didn’t think Alaimo could,” Yildiz said bitterly.
“Seems to come naturally to him. You heard about Steinbolt?”
“What about her?” Yildiz asked warily.
Lieutenant Colonel Diana Steinbolt was Alaimo’s JAG officer, the senior legal officer assigned to the Expeditionary Force, and the next good thing Yildiz heard about her would be the first good thing he’d ever heard about her.
“She set up shop in Markos Botsaris Stadium. Three tribunals, twenty-six-seven, no waiting. Firing squads’ve been busy since about eight a.m.”
Yildiz stared at the other man. Not in disbelief, but because he wished he could disbelieve what he’d just heard.
“How the hell did this turn into such a clusterfuck in less than seventy-two hours?” he demanded.
“Alaimo,” Lopez replied, and grimaced. “Man obviously doesn’t like to let the grass grow under his feet. And you’re not the only K-strike he called in today. Took out a little burg named Loutraki about thirty minutes before he hit Naphtali. Preliminary reports are that somebody with a Wasp took down one of our cargo shuttles. Probably had something to do with the fact that they’d just tossed the city’s mayor out the hatch at two hundred meters. Seems like the shooter must’ve had friends along, too, because when the gunships closed in on his position, we lost three more birds. So now the entire town’s gone. ’Course, there was a minor consequence.”
“What kind of ‘minor consequence’?”
“Seems the locals don’t much care for the way he’s been flinging KEWs around. Fourth Brigade ate another KEW of its own about twenty minutes after Naphtali. Didn’t hit the HQ—that’s in one of their bigger towns—but the vehicle park, the maintenance section, and the bivouac area, all gone. Best estimate is around nine hundred dead. But what the hell? Alaimo’s safe and sound in Kórinthos, isn’t he?”
Lopez reclaimed his nicotine stick and drew deeply on it.
“How’s Alaimo going to get away with all this?” Yildiz demanded bitterly. “I’m not talking about incoming KEWs—you’re right, no way these people are taking out their own capital city and everybody in it just to get his ass, however much he deserves it. But the rest of this shit. These are war crimes, Sir!”
“Not…technically. You didn’t read Annex W in the Corps-level operations order, did you?” Lopez asked. Yildiz shook his head, and the lieutenant colonel snorted. “Not too surprising, I guess. After all, the legal provisions almost never change. They just get cut and pasted from one order to another. When we’re fighting the League, at least. But there were some very interesting additions to the Law and Order Annex for this mission.”
“I only read the op order for division and lower,” Yildiz replied. “What got snuck into the Corps-level order?”
“It seems every Federation soldier on Bellerophon’s been issued a general pardon,” Lopez said. “Preemptive pardons.”
Yildiz stared at him, and the lieutenant colonel shrugged.
“Only for infractions against the local populace, of course. Insubordination and refusal to follow lawful orders are still on the books. As Colonel Fiori probably found out.”
“Hold on. Who the hell authorized that? Alaimo doesn’t have that authority, not at two stars. Not at any rank!”
“Doesn’t seem to bother him much. Which suggests to me that the fix must be in at a higher level. He’s put it in writing, after all, and that makes it official record. You really see someone like Alaimo doing that if he didn’t know for damned sure no one could hang him out to dry for it?”
Lopez looked at Yildiz until the captain shook his head, then shrugged.
“I don’t think so either. Which means he’s pretty damned sure the pardons will come through when he needs ’em. Of course, for that to happen, the Prime Minister herself would have to sign off on the actual pardons. And there has been one other time the PM issued blanket-pardons, although that was after the fact, not before it.”
“Gobelins,” Yildiz said harshly.
“Of course.”
“Figures.” Yildiz’s jaw clamped in anger, but he paused and made himself inhale deeply.
“There a reason you brought this up, Sir? Even with permission, I’m not sending my people out to pillage and burn, and I’m sure as hell not shooting up civilians to ‘send a message.’”
“Which is the reason I brought it up. You’re not that type, Ahmet. I’m not that type. Problem is, Alaimo is that type, and Steinbolt’s gonna rubber-stamp every bodybag Alaimo wants to fill, especially since her ass is covered. But I don’t like killing civilians. Especially not our civilians, even if the Powers That Be think it’s a good idea. Bringing League worlds into compliance is one thing, but this…this ain’t right.”
“Then what do we do?” Yildiz threw up his hands. “Alaimo’s got a personal security detachment larger than most sector commanders.”
“We resist where we can. Spare civilians whenever we can. Keep an eye open for opportunities. But don’t try and recruit anyone else to our side. Captain Donalds from Charlie Company was nowhere near as open to the suggestion as you are. In the meantime, Alaimo wants me to process your entire company for Bronze Sol Medals. You get a Silver.”
“Lose my paperwork.” Yildiz scraped dried blood off his helmet with a fingernail. “I’m with you, Sir. I’ll try to spare civilians where I can. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go share the bad news about Tolesti and Andrews with my people.”
“Today’s been shit, and tomorrow ain’t looking any better.” Lopez flicked his nicotine stick into a trashcan and straightened. “I can give you at least eight hours off before Alaimo tasks us with another target for action.”
“That’s…Oh, fuck this war.”
Yildiz walked away.