Brother shall not betray brother.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He kept seeing flashes of memories. Sergei, mostly. And those awful lizard-things, red eyes in the night, teeth wet and gleaming. Their shrill calls, strange and bone-chilling. Grit and stones stinging his body, whipped up in rotorwash. The thunderous impact of sonic cannons battering him, ten times worse than any vicious storm he could recall rolling out of the mountains back home.
Waking dreams, and nightmares. He knew that was what they were. But it was difficult to fight them off, and when the arid landscape of Cirokko started to blend into the memories of his home planet Kenzis, he knew he was in trouble. Couldn’t remember who he was anymore. Was he Andrew? Or was he Mike? Trying to work out which persona was real, which had been the facade, strained his sleep-deprived brain and only added to the confusion.
He’d given up on pacing the room or counting cracks in the walls. His body was too strung out to hold the forms of the flows when he tried them. He leaned against the wall, felt his body shutting down, muscles giving out. The floor was cold, hard, when he finally reached it, but the discomfort barely registered. With his head resting on his forearms, crossed over his knees, he closed his eyes. Hoping to catch a little sleep before Bull and Toad invaded his cell and roused him off the floor yet again. Wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up when they did. Not even if they used the prod on him, like the past few times. Electrical current zinging through his body, burning nerve endings, body screaming with pain, had proven impetus enough to get moving despite exhaustion.
Not this time, though. They could do what they wanted. He fully intended to sleep.
He didn’t even hear the door opening. Wasn’t aware there was anyone in his cell with him until someone, something touched him. Shook his shoulder. He flinched without even waking up completely.
A droning voice mumbled, murmuring sounds registering in his head. The tone and octave were wrong. Not Bull or Toad, and they were the only ones who bothered. Andrew struggled up through the haze, tried to open his eyes. Different was important, he needed to pay attention.
When he opened his eyes, it took a few minutes for the cell to come into focus around him. Even then, though, he couldn’t figure out if what he was seeing was real, or another figment of his misfiring brain.
Sergei attracted a lot more attention than he’d expected, even though they arrived in the military sector of Rhada spaceport. He should’ve foreseen it—the natives had no comparable technology to Liberty, and they stared at his prostheses enough for him to want to cover them up. The fact that he wasn’t moving smoothly only hammered the horror home. An ungainly machine, risen from the dead. Freak on parade, come stare.
No wonder his arrival was a small sensation. Nikishin walked next to him as if he were an aide or a doctor. The man was merely watching, compiling facts in his mind, and every now and then checking his observations against files on his pad.
Once they arrived in Dedis later in the evening, they didn’t proceed to the barracks but to the diplomatic quarter, which was a very different part of Dedis. The planet had been ruled for centuries by a cult that viewed any possessions not given over to gods as sinful, so most of Dedis had, at some point, consisted of vast, impossibly intricate empty temples nestled between warrens of abject hovels where the population lived. While Rhada had been designated the planetary capital due to the spaceport, Dedis was the older and strategically more important city, even though its weather patterns made it unsuitable for landing spacecraft. The diplomatic quarter had once been the residence of priests who took the sin of worldly possessions upon themselves to keep the population pure. Now, the villas and gardens housed the local elite and the most important foreign visitors.
A lot of construction was underway. Was the general laying claim to one of the mansions here? Nikishin had arranged quarters for both of them in the same compound, but not close enough to cross paths by accident, for which Sergei was oddly grateful.
Nikishin joined him for a tea, settling into one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting room. He looked well rested—perhaps too much so, given the aura of barely leashed energy he exuded. He poured a cup from the steaming pot, glancing over at Sergei. “Hope you didn’t overexert yourself. Alina would strangle me.”
“Yes, she would. While shouting abuse.” Sergei laughed. “No, I’m good. As long as you don’t require me to fight anybody, I’m up to the task.”
Nikishin stared at the cup he held, brows drawing up in mild surprise. “The general will be joining us, shortly.”
Just threw it out there, nonchalant, as if it were of no consequence at all. Just another person in the room soon. A Revision officer dropping the brother in front of a rank was the most threatening thing Sergei had heard in a long time. He stared at Nikishin, tried to read his features, but that was entirely impossible. Never before had Nikishin appeared more the arm of the law.
“I should…still be able to fight him off if necessary.” Metal limbs did have an advantage.
The lieutenant gave him a bland look, running the length of Sergei’s altered body before holding his gaze steadily. “You underestimate yourself.” He took a sip of tea, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “In all probability, such won’t be necessary, though.”
No, because the general is a coward. Sergei poured himself tea with his left hand, making the metal hand hold the cup on his flat palm—he didn’t risk the other options yet. It seemed fairly steady to his eyes. When he was done, he put the pot down and took the cup from the metal hand before he blew on it. “I can’t wait,” he said, feeling nothing but grim expectation.
Nikishin cleared his throat and set the cup back on the table, scooting it a fraction with the tip of his finger. “Are you prepared to face him again? The man is no longer your superior. He has no sway over you, not in that way.”
“He’s nowhere near as bad as the native lizards. Less smelly too.” Sergei forced a grin. “I won’t crumble.”
Nikishin’s dark brows arched up his forehead. “Ah, good. You might have to take me out to that valley and show me these…lizards. The Committee is going to want to know all I can tell them about the indigenous life. The original reports left a good bit to be desired.”
“They attack every intruder. We learned that the hard way. But they seemed to communicate with the humanoid natives. I’m not sure how they do it, but I’ve seen somebody calm one down with…touches. I wasn’t in the clearest of minds.” In turmoil over Mike’s betrayal. The ease with which the man manipulated him into turning traitor. And how little that act had meant to the man. Never mind torture and stim crash.
“Unfortunate.” Nikishin tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and glanced at the door, expectant. Impatient. “I’d be interested in knowing how those Alliance groups ended up with so much intel on the creatures.” His tone held a faint edge of derision, confusion, as if he were too distracted to engage his responses fully.
“I don’t—”
Sergei’s words were cut short by a harsh triple knock on the door. The door swung open, and the brother general stepped in, walking with so much purpose that he could have been filmed for a newscast. Uniform immaculate, the man exuded impatience, aggression and military efficiency. Sergei was almost compelled to jump to his feet, but managed to push the impulse to the side before it could fully crystallize.
“Brother Lieutenant.” The brother general strode toward Nikishin, strutting like a cockerel and ignoring Sergei completely. “I hope you had a good flight.”
Nikishin pushed up from his chair, slowly. Not the snapping response an officer would expect of a subordinate. “Brother General,” he said, his tone neutral. “Our flight was most pleasant. Thank you for asking.” He motioned to the chair closest to the door, the spot of greatest vulnerability. “Do have a seat, please. I’m sure you’re wondering what brings a Revision investigator to your base.”
The general sat and finally looked at Sergei, eyes strafing over his m
etal limbs. “With his presence, I would assume the disastrous ambush at Zasidka Pass.”
“In part. The obliteration of yet another battalion in that same valley certainly triggered some attention.” Nikishin’s comment drew the general’s gaze. “You’ve gotten rather sloppy and careless, Brother General.”
The general opened his mouth to protest. Something twitched in his face and then he smiled, baring too many teeth. “In choosing my subordinates you mean?”
“No. In your disposal of witnesses. ‘Brother shall not raise hand against brother.’ General.” A distinct pause before the title, enough to make the absence of the proper brother obvious, deliberate. Unmistakable. A subtle warning to stop dancing around the truth.
Sergei knew the general wouldn’t take it, though.
“You’re on thin ice here.” The general’s stare was nothing short of menacing. “That’s a grave allegation you can’t back up.”
Nikishin waved his hand dismissively and glanced back toward the door. Sergei stared in disbelief at the lieutenant’s audacity. “No worries. I hardly expected a cooperative reception, General. You do understand, however, that under the circumstances I’ll have to take possession of your personal pad? And any other correspondence you might have. Not that I haven’t already accessed it, of course.”
“Is this an arrest? Because if you don’t arrest me, you don’t have the right to request my pad.” The general’s tone implied “and you won’t arrest me, right?”
“Oh.” Nikishin rose to stand over the general for a moment, hands clasped behind his back. “You mean you would step down voluntarily?” For the first time, the lieutenant actually seemed engaged in the response he would get.
“We are in the middle of a war. I’m not letting a Liberty pen pusher ruin the work I’ve done here.” The general stood as well. “Especially not if any and all allegations come from the poisonous snake I’ve harbored for far too long.” His gaze locked on Sergei.
“Good. Your willingness to step down wouldn’t alter the reality of your court-martial.” Nikishin stood there, unfazed by the onslaught of the general’s verbal attack, and Sergei got the distinct impression that Nikishin was an adrenaline junkie of a completely different breed. The Revision officer glanced at him, flashing a smile, unconcerned that shifting his attention from the general left him open and vulnerable.
“Captain Stolkov isn’t the only individual we’ve interviewed. And even if he were? The statistical figures regarding his predecessors have alone been enough to raise more than just a few eyebrows. So, as I said. Sloppy.”
The general paused, eyes narrowing in calculation. “You’re going to arrest me because of a statistical oddity?” He barked a laugh. “And I thought Liberty had more pressing problems than digging around in the statistical likelihood of a frontline general’s aides-de-camp tearing off a fingernail.”
“Perhaps you are willing to explain, then, why you rushed a battalion into a known hostile region without ready air support. Why your assistant, whom you’d forced yourself upon on numerous different occasions, was required to deploy in command of that battalion. And why you made that tactical decision only after your assistant filed his G12. In an effort to terminate your…unprofessional liaisons.”
“Oh really?” The general laughed and stared at Sergei, who swallowed and found it impossible to breathe under that stare that said I should have killed you that night. “Is that his claim? Is that what you told him, you pathetic little cocksucker?”
He marched toward Sergei, who managed to scramble up from his chair before the man reached him. The general’s rage was palpable, a living thing lashing out at him. Sergei remembered all the times he’d been afraid of the man, especially in bed. Pathetic little cocksucker. He resisted the urge to take a step back, knowing it would make him appear weak and ungainly. I may be a traitor, unworthy of being called brother, and I may be half the soldier I was. But I am still a soldier. I still have my pride.
“Yes, General.”
“And you believe him?” The general turned and stared at Nikishin.
“You would offer, what? A different reason for why you disposed of him in such a fashion? By all recorded accounts, Sergei excelled his predecessors in efficiency and dedication.” Nikishin locked Sergei’s gaze. “Stand your ground, Brother Captain. That’s an order.”
Easier said than done. Nikishin had already fired off what he had, and the general had taken it, wounded, but not down, and more dangerous for it. In his youth, he must have been a fearsome fighter, and in many ways, he still was.
“You thought I’d blackmail you with it…that’s why you tried to kill me.” The general turned back toward him. Sergei lifted his chin and squared his shoulders. “Of course, I wouldn’t have. I was too ashamed. But you didn’t notice that, did you? The G12 must have felt like a threat.” Not too ashamed now, to admit what I am. It’s the least of my flaws.
“You have no proof.”
“You and I aren’t the only ones who know you strangled me that night.”
The general stared at him, not budging.
“Admitting to my own tastes ruins my career. You can’t believe I’d sacrifice that, jeopardize my freedom and mental integrity to tell lies. How do you do that? Killing men that stop doing your bidding? Do you tell yourself they’re just supplies you’re using? A resource like the others? And who are you, to believe that?” It was a blade that cut both ways, because a resource was all he’d been to Mike as well. Sergei clenched his left hand into a fist, resisting the urge to massage the ache behind his breastbone. Resisting the urge to punch, lash out. Release the rage. It boiled just below the surface, yet the inDoctrination kept his voice calm and level, the emotions under control.
Nikishin stepped between them, his back to Sergei. With his hands still clasped loosely behind him, he crowded the general into retreating. One slow step at a time.
“I think you might finally grasp the gravity of the situation,” the lieutenant said, voice low but every bit as impossible to read as his face.
“You’d listen to this whelp? Ah, it’s his family, isn’t it? You’re trying to ingratiate yourself with a virago. And he’d be perfect to further your own career, Lieutenant. You can blackmail the little cocksucker and make his aunt dance for you. Clever.”
“Are you disappointed that didn’t occur to you earlier? Before you sent the nephew of a Committee general off to die?” Nikishin glanced up as the door once again swung inward, this time without any forewarning. “Ah, our other guest has arrived. Please do come in, Colonel Ulyanov. Meet your predecessor, if you would.” He stepped away from the general, his focus utterly redirected.
The colonel entered smartly, and while he was striking—broad shoulders, jaw, salt-and-pepper hair with a surprisingly young face—he was made even more impressive by the six gray-clad guards following in his wake. Revision troops. Sergei had wondered where Nikishin’s enforcers were—well, this answered the question.
The general bristled, but even he knew when he was outgunned. “You will regret this, Nikishin. And you…” A last baleful stare at Sergei. “You’ll regret the day you crawled from that transport.”
I already do. Sergei kept his features closed, neutral, schooled.
The Revision officer, on the other hand, seemed to find something supremely funny. He actually laughed. Not a chuckled snort, quickly muffled; he threw his head back and laughed. Even the Revision guards eyed him askance before turning their full attention to the general.
Nikishin collected himself after a moment, though there wasn’t the slightest sign of discomfort in his bearing. “Oh, to know the pleasure of regret. Nice one, General. My thanks for that. Get him out of here, if you would please?”
A flick of Nikishin’s hand, a command movement Sergei didn’t understand, couldn’t recognize—it was obvious the guards were responding not to the words but the signal as they moved in around the general.
Sergei tore his eyes away when Colonel Ulyanov addressed
him. “Brother Captain. I heard of the incident at Zasidka. It is good to see you are on the mend.”
“Thank you.” Sergei was grateful for something else to occupy his mind while the guards escorted the general out. “I’m afraid once this is over, the doctors will have me back, but for the moment I could escape.” He tried a smile, then glanced at Nikishin as the door closed.
“They’ll return with his pad shortly,” the lieutenant commented, face once again devoid of any trace of emotion. That little detail made the outburst of laughter all that much more disturbing. “You have my thanks, Brother Colonel, for being willing to tackle interim management of this operation.”
“I wouldn’t have refused it for the world,” Ulyanov said with a smile. “I’ll begin work immediately and report on progress and open issues I’m seeing. A bad command can be like deep rot that needs a lot of digging to remove.”
Nikishin returned to his chair, eyeing his abandoned cup of tea. “Indeed. It’s possible I’ll be in your way for more than a week or two before I’ve collected all the information and evidence required to bring this to a satisfying resolution.”
“All help with this will be welcome.”
Ulyanov wasn’t just impressive but also smooth. He’d make general in no time, Sergei assumed. Taking over and doing a good job here would certainly add a positive mark to his file. It was heartening to think that this one might make a good general. Certainly a more polite one.
Nikishin nodded. “Of course, Brother Colonel. Getting this cleared up will make your mission completion all that much simpler.” He picked up his cup and took a hesitant sip, almost as if expecting it to taste differently than it had before the general had walked in.