Chapter Four

A sense of honor is a wonderful thing for an officer or a civilian, but I’d rather see a legionnaire with a sense of self-preservation any day.

—Colonel Alexandre Villiers,
Third Foreign Legion, 2397

The walls surrounding the Besaran consul-general’s huge country estate were made of stone, built with modern technology in a style that predated human spaceflight. They looked out of place here on Robespierre, a full Member World of the Terran Commonwealth with all the high-tech trappings of modern life that political status implied.

Those walls served no real purpose beyond their impressive, anachronistic appearance. For true security there would be a whole host of detectors and sophisticated intruder deterrent systems scattered around the perimeter. But the high stone walls and brooding iron-wrought gate gave the compound an atmosphere of aristocratic splendor that made the estate a small slice of far-off Laut Besar. The homeworld was three light-years away, but looking at this compound, Wolfgang Alaric Hauser von Semenanjung Burat couldn’t help but feel a little bit homesick. The place looked like the Hauser family’s seat on Java Baru and was a bitter reminder that he wasn’t likely to see that home again any time soon.

With a high-pitched whine of revving turbofans, the hired floatcar set down a few meters from the gate. Hauser touched the small ident disk adhering to the base of his neck and pressed it against the scanplate of the computer terminal mounted in front of him. The vehicle’s on-board computer processed the transaction, shifting twenty-two sols from the Commonwealth account of the von Semenanjung Burat family to Transport Capitale and recording the time, date, place, and nature of the business in its own files and in the tiny chip inside the ident disk itself.

The scanplate flashed green, and the computer’s synthesized voice said, “Thank you, sir.” The passenger doors swung upward with a sigh, and Hauser and Suartana stepped out of the automated vehicle. When its sensors detected that they were clear, the computer closed the doors and the floatcar lifted on its magnetic suspension cushion, hovering a meter and a half above the ground. The turbofans kicked in, raising a cloud of dust as the car sped back in the direction of Cite Capitale.

Hauser watched it all with an expression of mild distaste. Like any civilized world Laut Besar made extensive use of computer technology in all avenues of life, but there was something faintly obscene about the preponderance of totally automated systems on Robespierre. Here virtually every job was conducted by computer-control equipment, with little room for human involvement.

The high-tech base left the populace little useful work to perform, a whole planet of idlers. Cheap fusion power and the nearly inexhaustible resources of an interstellar society had left their mark on society as a whole, and the inhabitants of the rich worlds of the Commonwealth able to take full advantage of these high-tech blessings had no need to work in order to survive, though some still found activity more bearable than enforced idleness. Some found jobs in the areas that still required human intervention, like government service or supervisory and executive positions in business. Others turned their attention to creative pursuits. But for many there was no incentive to do anything productive with their lives. The population of a full Member World received universal Commonwealth Citizenship and thus were eligible for the basic living wage of the ever-present Citizen’s dole. It was a microcosm of conditions on decadent Terra, and the whole idea made Hauser cringe.

At least on Laut Besar wealth and technology had not completely ruined society. Onnesium deposits had made the planet wealthy even beyond Commonwealth member worlds like Robespierre, and the Uro aristocrats who controlled the extraction and sale of the mineral were very rich individuals indeed. But they were still expected to work, by the force of custom and family honor if not for economic incentives, and work they did, managing family estates and business concerns, filling government posts, serving as officers in the Sky Guards, the Navy, or the Planetary Defense Force.

And the Indomays, whom the Uros had rescued from certain economic and social collapse by the introduction of high-tech industry and onnesium mining a hundred years back, they were expected to work as well. The Uros had avoided the pitfalls of the welfare state so evident on worlds like Robespierre. Wasn’t it wiser to let the lower classes earn their living as workers, farmers, drivers, or whatever instead of subjecting them to the demoralizing, debilitating influence of the monthly dole?

Laut Besar enjoyed access to the same level of technology as the Commonwealth worlds, but by restricting the uses of that technology the planet had been able to preserve a social structure closer to that of the various Commonwealth Colonies, where the number of true Citizens was small and most men still had to work if they wanted to survive and prosper. That gave Laut Besaran society a vigor that was lacking on worlds such as Robespierre, and it was the preservation of their unique culture that had led the Uro ruling class to resist many Commonwealth attempts, some quite strongly made, to bring Laut Besar into the mainstream of Terra’s interstellar empire.

Despite the problems—the ongoing balancing act between guaranteeing the Indomays their basic human rights without creating total chaos by giving them more political or economic power than they were prepared to handle, for instance—the Besaran system had worked just fine. Until now.

Now that the Ubrenfars were entrenched on Laut Besar, it was going to take Commonwealth assistance to free the planet. Even if liberation was achieved it was possible that the Besaran debt to the Commonwealth would be too large to permit the leadership to ignore a new request for Laut Besar to join. One way or another, the homeworld would never be the same again.…

Hauser shook off his gloomy thoughts and turned toward the gate. During the past week, as Freiheit Stern had made the crossing from the systerm to Robespierre, Hauser had spent a lot of time considering his options. He had shied away from committing himself to the cause of Liberation at first. It would have been easy enough to resign his commission and sit out his exile in luxury. The von Semenanjung Burat mining and shipping interests had amassed a sizable account balance here on Robespierre, unaffected by the Ubrenfar occupation of the homeworld. Plenty of other Uros had already opted for that course of action, and Hauser’s meager skills surely wouldn’t be missed even if there really was a counterattack against the invaders.

But much as he feared the prospect of facing combat again, and especially the thought of leading others into danger, Hauser was more afraid of giving in to that fear. Unless he tried again, he would always have to live with his failure on Telok and the recurrent dreams where he heard dying men screaming in agony. At least by returning to duty he would have the chance to redeem that failure, to prove himself. In the end, that argument had carried the day.

His Sky Guard staff post was gone, of course, and in the confused state of things among the refugees there was no clear-cut organization, no solid chain of command to report to any longer. Lacking any better options, Hauser had decided to seek out the Free Laut Besaran Regiment forming among the refugees here on Robespierre. All the media reports had featured the unit’s call for volunteers to serve under Oberst von Padang Tengah, the hero of the campaign against the Indomay rebellion on Java Baru a decade ago. The newscasts had indicated that there were still plenty of openings for junior officers.

The oberst had arranged to quarter and train his recruits here, on the extensive country estate reserved for the use of the Besaran consul-general and chief commercial representative. So Hauser had left his luxurious hotel suite in the capital, with Sersan Suartana in tow, to see if he could arrange a posting. He only hoped there were as many vacancies as the reports indicated.

Unfortunately, the Hausers, prominent as they were in homeworld politics, had few connections in the military establishment, and that could be a handicap. Both the Sky Guard and the PDF establishments relied heavily on patronage for the placement of qualified officers. Hauser had obtained his staff position through a feldmarshall who had owed his uncle a favor, but there were precious few other connections available for him to call on now. It was different for a well-connected military family like the Neubecks von Lembah Terang, who could get preferment anywhere they applied.

Hauser felt a momentary burst of anger that he couldn’t use his links to his mother’s family. Oberst von Padang Tengah was a distant connection of the Wrangel family, and should have been a useful ally. But the scandal of Hilda Wrangel-Hauser’s mental breakdown and bizarre suicide had opened a huge gulf between the two families. There had even been a pair of duels in the wake of the incident, and now neither clan would even acknowledge the existence of the other in public. There would be no help from that quarter … in fact, the oberst might actually block his application if he was close enough to the main branch of the Wrangels to care about the old feud.

He would just have to hope that the manpower shortages were real, that he could win a slot in the regiment even without a patron to speak on his behalf.

The gate was closed and locked, but he spotted the adjacent intercom system and buzzed for attention. A moment later the speaker squawked an interrogative.

“Applicant for the FLB regiment,” Hauser responded. “Uro. Active commission in the Sky Guard as leutnant.”

There was a short pause. Then the gate swung slowly open and the speaker came on again. “Please wait in the gatehouse. Transportation has been dispatched.” He couldn’t tell if the voice belonged to a person or to another computer.

Minutes passed before a civilian model floatcar, hastily repainted in a camouflage scheme and bearing the Free Laut Besaran binatanganas-head crest on each door, appeared and settled to the ground outside the gatehouse. This vehicle wasn’t automated, at least. An Indomay bearing kopral’s stripes was driving, and a serdadu rode alongside him. Both saluted smartly as Hauser climbed into the car. Suartana sat with him, maintaining a respectful silence.

The estate proved to be even larger than Hauser had first envisioned, a sprawling compound given over mostly to rolling hills and unspoiled woodland. Purchased from the government of Robespierre soon after the inception of the lucrative onnesium trade, the land was classified as a foreign embassy and thus technically Laut Besaran soil. It included a small shuttle port with control, repair, and warehouse facilities, all highly automated in Robespierran fashion, plus the Inner Sanctum, where the Residence, business officers, and servants’ and workers’ quarters were located.

The block of apartments that had formerly housed the serving staff had been turned over to the regimental headquarters staff for the duration of their stay on Robespierre, while the landscape was dotted with makeshift housing. Not all of the latter was military, though. There were large numbers of Indomay refugees living on the estate now. Unlike the Uros, most of the Indomays lacked the wherewithal to support themselves, except for those like Suartana directly attached to a Uro’s personal “tail.” There was no work for refugees here, and as non-Citizens they couldn’t even qualify for the Commonwealth’s dole. Government relief measures were still being debated. In the meantime, the consul-general had invited the refugees to stay on the estate grounds, and was purchasing food and other supplies for them out of government discretionary funds.

Still, the precarious position of the refugees made it certain that there would be no shortage of recruits for the regiment’s enlisted ranks. Their pay, at least, would be guaranteed for the foreseeable future.

The floatcar grounded outside the Residence, and the kopral pointed toward a doorway flanked by a pair of smartly dressed sentries. “Officers’ recruitment is through there, Tuan,” the noncom said. “First door on the left after you leave Reception. Go straight through if there’s no one at the front desk.”

“Terima kasih,” Hauser replied. “Thank you.” The two Indomays looked surprised and more than a little pleased at his use of their own phrase. It was a courtesy his father had always insisted on, though one rarely seen among Uros today. But Karl Hauser had been a progressive politician whose chief platform had been the advancement of Uro rights. Wolfgang Alaric Hauser had never paid much attention to the politics of the Indomay rights question, but he had always tried to live up to his father’s insistence that the Indomay people, lower class or not, deserved to be treated with dignity.

The reception room was empty of either visitors or staff, so Hauser took the NCO’s advice and led the way down the corridor to the indicated doorway. It was standing open, and inside he could see the makeshift office furnishings that had replaced some Residence staff members’ quarters. A Uro wearing a naval leutnant’s uniform and a regen cast on one leg sat in front of a desk. Behind it three more officers, all Sky Guards, were ranged in a row, questioning the man.

It took Hauser several seconds to realize that he knew two of the men.

The younger man, wearing an oberleutnant’s insignia, had been a classmate of his at the Academy, never a close friend but at least an old acquaintance … Walther Neubeck von Lembah Terang. And next to him was his brother, Major Erich Neubeck. Hauser had seen his frowning features last on a commlink screen during the fight on Telok.

He hadn’t given any real thought to what might have happened to the major after things went sour back there.…

Just then Erich Neubeck looked up and caught sight of Hauser. Anger twisted his handsome features into a dark frown. “Hauser!” He managed to turn the bald name into a venomous snarl. “What are you doing here?”

Hauser stepped back, taken by surprise by the hatred and contempt in the major’s tones. “I—this is a mistake. I didn’t mean to disturb you gentlemen.” He strove to keep his voice even, to maintain the polite forms even in the face of the older man’s obvious fury. The aristocracy of Laut Besar placed a premium on keeping up a public mask of civility even under the most stressful conditions.

Major Neubeck stood, a flowing, catlike movement. “Not so fast, Leutnant Hauser,” he said firmly. “I asked you a question. Why are you here?”

“Maybe he wanted to apply for a position in the regiment,” Neubeck’s brother interjected. Unlike his brother, he sounded more amused than angry, but there was a razor-sharp edge hidden under his light tone. “That would be a real laugh, wouldn’t it, Erich?”

The major’s blue eyes were cold. “Not funny to me, little brother,” he said. “There’s no place in this outfit for a man who would disobey orders and desert his post.”

The words stung, but Hauser fought down his rising anger. Both of the Neubecks were being openly scornful, without making any pretense of civility. That kind of treatment implied that Hauser wasn’t a real gentleman, that he wasn’t within the bounds of polite society. Hauser had always had trouble keeping control of his emotions. His temper had always been short, his sense of honor touchy at best, but this time he was determined to stay calm. He couldn’t let the Neubeck brothers goad him into an outburst he’d regret later.

“We retreated because we couldn’t hold that position against the scalies,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Because you didn’t send the reinforcements you promised. That wasn’t a matter of disobedience or desertion. We simply couldn’t hold the position without proper support, and your men weren’t there to help.”

“The men I sent ran into Ubrenfars in the passage your men were supposed to be securing,” Neubeck shot back. “Thanks to you, all but a handful of my people were killed.”

“You made it out,” Hauser said. Everything the major accused him of was a distortion of the truth … but it struck just close enough to home to hurt. “I was one of the last men out of the warehouse. How is it you escaped if so many of your men were killed?”

Neubeck looked as if he’d been struck. “You … you dare to suggest …” He took a step toward Hauser. “I won’t take that kind of talk from a damned coward like you, Hauser!”

All of Hauser’s anger and frustration came to the surface at once. He had tried, really tried, to keep from losing his temper, but this was more than he could take. There was no way he could stand there and let Neubeck call him a coward, not in front of other Uros. His honor had been insulted publicly, and there was only one way a Uro gentleman could react to that.

“Coward is it?” Hauser grated. “Coward? Take that back, Neubeck, or by God I’ll …”

“You’ll what?” the major taunted. “There’s nothing a gutless softsnake like you can do to me, von Lembah Terang. Nothing!”

“I said retract it, Neubeck … unless you’d rather meet me with steel.”

The major laughed coldly. “A duel? A puppy like you would challenge me to a duel? Did you hear that, brother?”

The younger Neubeck followed his brother’s lead. “Maybe he’s never seen you fence, Erich,” he said, grinning. “He wouldn’t last five minutes in a fight with you.”

“Last?” Major Neubeck laughed again. “He doesn’t have the guts to show up for a duel. He’ll run again, just like he did on Telok.”

“You think so, Neubeck?” Hauser said quietly. “You really think so? You’ll see differently soon enough.” He turned away, pushing past Suartana and striding down the hall briskly with the Neubecks’ laughter echoing in his ears.

Erich Neubeck was a well-known duelist back on the homeworld, and Hauser knew he didn’t have much hope of winning a fight. But this was a question of courage and honor, not of skill, and he was determined to prove to the two brothers that he was no coward.

At the same time, perhaps he could prove his courage to himself as well.