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"We'll call on them to surrender, try to keep casualties to a minimum, and pay Georgescu off when we get back," the captain said. "I suppose we could simply say that we're commandeering the ship and ask the captain to come down to the surface to surrender, but then there's the little issue of there being a price on our heads.
"If I thought there was a chance in hell that we'd do anything but get ourselves disappeared when we returned, I'd turn us over to the first authorities we found," he continued with a frown. "But there isn't one. Jackson couldn't afford not to make us disappear."
"Do you think he was the one who put the toombie on DeGlopper?" Kosutic asked. They'd lost so many Marines on the trip that she had a hard time even coming up with all the names, but she remembered shooting Ensign Guha as if it had happened yesterday. Killing a person who was acting under his own volition was one thing. Shooting that toombie—a good junior officer who'd desperately wanted to do anything but what the chip in her head was telling her to do—still made her sick to her stomach. Even if the shot had saved the ship.
"Probably," Pahner sighed. "As the head of the Military Committee in the Lords, he had the contacts and the knowledge. And he was no friend of the Empress."
"Which means he also killed the rest of the Family," the sergeant major said. "I'd like some confirmation, but I think that he's one person I'll take active pleasure in terminating with as much prejudice as humanly possible."
"We will require confirmation that the Empress isn't in full and knowing agreement with his handling of the situation," Pahner said. "I don't think there's any doubt that she isn't, but getting hard proof of that will be ... interesting. I have a few ideas on the subject—where to begin, at least—but before we can do anything about it one way or the other, we need a ship." He waved to Honal, who'd been overseeing the training. "Round them up, Honal. We're expecting company."
"Good!" the Vashin said. "I'm looking forward to ship combat. And I like the thought of seeing all those other worlds you keep talking about."
"So do I," Pahner said quietly. "And especially to seeing one that's not Marduk."
* * *
"Captain." Roger nodded in greeting as the Marines walked into the command center. "It looks like everything is prepared to receive visitors."
"It had better be," Pahner growled. "We've only been getting ready for the last two weeks."
"I was thinking. You have any major plans between now and when we launch the shuttles?"
"Nothing I'd classify as major," the Marine said. "Why?"
"In that case, I was thinking it would be a good idea to have a party," Roger said with a smile. "I've done up a few suitable awards... ."
* * *
Roger had been a bit put out to discover that he hadn't originated the concept of the dining-in. But after he watched Pahner and Kosutic put together the plan for the evening in less than five minutes, he was less upset.
The sun was setting over the mountains in the west as the majority of the group that had fought its way to the spaceport gathered around tables arranged under awnings. The spaceport's mountain plateau was much higher and drier than most of Marduk, which gave a rare clear sky and a view of both of the moons. It was also much cooler, but the Mardukans' new uniforms finally made them immune to the torpor which set in with the evening's chill.
Supper was a seven-course di
The third course was a fruit-basted basik on a bed of barleyrice. Roger's table was presented with a very large platter. Several normal basik had been clustered around a sculpture of a very large, very pointy-toothed basik made out of barleyrice. The wine for that course was a kate-fruit vintage from the new vineyards around Voitan.
The fourth course was the piece de resistance. Julian had gone out and single-handedly downed a damnbeast, using nothing more than a squad of backup and a bead ca
The remaining courses were desserts and niblets, and the feast culminated with everyone sitting around on the ground, picking bits of damnbeast out of their teeth while they tried to decide how much wine they could drink.
Finally, as the last course was cleared, Roger stood and raised his wine glass.
"Siddown!" Julian called.
"Yes, sit, Roger," Pahner said. "Let's see ... I think ... Yes, Niederberger! You're to give the toast."
The designated private took a hasty gulp of wine, then stood while Gu
"Ladies and Gentlemen, Her Majesty, Alexandra the Seventh, Empress of Man! Long may she reign!"
"The Empress!" The response rumbled back at him, and he tried not to scurry as he settled back into his chair in obvious relief.
"Now you stand up, Roger," Pahner said.
"Shouldn't it be you?" Roger asked.
"Nah. You're the senior officer, Colonel," the captain said with a grin.
"No rank in the mess!" Julian called.
"I was just pointing it out," Pahner said. "Your turn, Roger."
"Okay." Roger got to his feet again. "Ladies and Gentlemen, absent companions!"
"Absent companions!"
"Before we get into any more toasts," Roger continued, waving Julian back down, "I have a few words I'd like to say."
"Speech! Speech!" Poertena yelled, and most of the Vashin joined in. The armorer had taken a table with them, even though they'd made it clear that they didn't want to play cards.
"Not a speech," Roger disagreed, and held out his hand to Despreaux. She handed over a sizable sack, then sat back down with a smile.
"On the auspicious occasion of us almost getting off this mudball," Roger said. "Sorry to all you people who were born here, by the way. But on this occasion, I think it's fitting that we distribute a few mementos. Things to remember our trip by."
"Uh-oh," Kosutic whispered. "Did you know about this?"
"Yep." Pahner gri
"Lessee," Roger said, pulling out a piece of plastscrip and a small medallion. "Ah, yes. To St. John (J), and St. John (M). A silver 'M' and a silver 'J,' so that we can frigging tell you apart!"
Roger beamed as the twin brothers made their way up to accept their gifts, then shook their hands (Mark's had regenerated quite nicely since Kirsti) as he handed over the mementos.
"Wear 'em in good health. Now, what else do we have? Ah, yes." He reached into the sack and pulled out a wrench no more than three centimeters long. "To Poertena, a little pocking wrench, for beating up on little pocking bits of armor!"
He continued in the same vein through the entire remaining unit of Marines and many of the Vashin and Diasprans, showing that he recognized their individual quirks and personality traits. It took almost an hour of mingled laughter and groans before he started wrapping up.