decided that this one was important enough to have her declared dead for the rest of this scenario.
“Who’s it from?” she asked the voice.
“Double ID,” was the reply. “General Hagan and Senator Alessandro. And it was coded urgent.”
“Okay, okay,” Kara said, closing her eyes. “I’m on my way.”
Once again—and this time for real—she woke up, this time in the couch of a ViRcomm module in the Ops center of ConMilCom HQ. Warstrider Lindsey Smeth—“killed” moments before in the fighting on Mars—was there to help her unstrap. “Tough luck, Lieutenant,” she said. “We almost had ’em that time.”
“Almost doesn’t cut it,” Kara replied, standing up and stretching stiff, sore muscles. Even ViRsimmed war could be rough on the body, when the body believed that what was happening to it was real. “That’s what, fifteen tries against that base so far?”
“Sixteen,” Smeth said. “But who’s counting? I’d rather ViRdie than buy it for real.”
Kara grinned. “Just so you stay in one piece when the show goes down. And, speaking of staying in one piece, I’d better go see what my brass-crested parents want.”
“Good luck, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
Chapter 3
Bella detestata matribus. (Wars are the dread of mothers.)
— Odes, i
H ORACE
B . C . E . 20
Senator Katya Alessandro stood before the viewall in her husband’s office, watching the city. Though his office was on the fifty-third level, his viewall was using a ground-floor pickup, set to show a realtime view of the building’s transplas atrium and the broad, green expanse of Franklin Park beyond. It was just past Second Eclipse, and Columbia hung suspended in the west, filling nearly an octant of the sky, a pale, immense, crater-blotched crescent bowed away from the golden glare of 26 Draconis A.
Opposite, on the far side of the park just a kilometer away and rising eighty stories over Jefferson’s government district, was the one-time headquarters for one of the larger Imperial corporations doing business on New America; even yet the locals called it the Sony Building. The holographic lettering above that gleaming facade, however, now read PEOPLE’S CONFEDERATION CONGRESS , marking it as home to the Confederation Free Senate and what passed for government on New America these days.
Government? Katya grimaced. Anarchy was closer to the mark.
Why, she wondered, had she ever left the Confederation military? She’d thought she would be able to make a difference by running for office. During the time she’d been a senator, though, she’d seen little evidence that she was doing much of anything worthwhile. Lately, most of her time was spent mindlooping—what an earlier age had called “paper shuffling,” though that term was as dated now as “typewriter” or “videotape.”
She glanced sideways at Vic, who was leaning back at his desk with the distracted, glazed-over look of someone tapping his internal RAM for a piece of squirreled-away data. He’d made the right choice, clearly. He was a general now, one of the senior officers in ConMilCom’s Operations Center.
Katya Alessandro loved Vic Hagan dearly, though, as she sometimes tried to make herself forget, he’d been her second love. When Dev Cameron had… changed, his body destroyed at Second Herakles as his mind somehow became part of the group mind of the Naga-DalRiss fleet, any chance of a common physical ground between her and Dev had been wiped away. A year after Dev had left human space with the alien fleet-mind, she’d palmed an extended cohab contract with Vic. Daren—Dev’s son—had already been born by then, and she’d needed… somebody. A year and a half later, Kara had been born, her daughter by Vic.
Eventually, she’d resigned her commission and gone into politics. As one of the heroes of the revolution, she still had good recognition on New America, and she’d won her seat in
“Who’s it from?” she asked the voice.
“Double ID,” was the reply. “General Hagan and Senator Alessandro. And it was coded urgent.”
“Okay, okay,” Kara said, closing her eyes. “I’m on my way.”
Once again—and this time for real—she woke up, this time in the couch of a ViRcomm module in the Ops center of ConMilCom HQ. Warstrider Lindsey Smeth—“killed” moments before in the fighting on Mars—was there to help her unstrap. “Tough luck, Lieutenant,” she said. “We almost had ’em that time.”
“Almost doesn’t cut it,” Kara replied, standing up and stretching stiff, sore muscles. Even ViRsimmed war could be rough on the body, when the body believed that what was happening to it was real. “That’s what, fifteen tries against that base so far?”
“Sixteen,” Smeth said. “But who’s counting? I’d rather ViRdie than buy it for real.”
Kara grinned. “Just so you stay in one piece when the show goes down. And, speaking of staying in one piece, I’d better go see what my brass-crested parents want.”
“Good luck, Lieutenant.”
“Thanks. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
Chapter 3
Bella detestata matribus. (Wars are the dread of mothers.)
— Odes, i
H ORACE
B . C . E . 20
Senator Katya Alessandro stood before the viewall in her husband’s office, watching the city. Though his office was on the fifty-third level, his viewall was using a ground-floor pickup, set to show a realtime view of the building’s transplas atrium and the broad, green expanse of Franklin Park beyond. It was just past Second Eclipse, and Columbia hung suspended in the west, filling nearly an octant of the sky, a pale, immense, crater-blotched crescent bowed away from the golden glare of 26 Draconis A.
Opposite, on the far side of the park just a kilometer away and rising eighty stories over Jefferson’s government district, was the one-time headquarters for one of the larger Imperial corporations doing business on New America; even yet the locals called it the Sony Building. The holographic lettering above that gleaming facade, however, now read PEOPLE’S CONFEDERATION CONGRESS , marking it as home to the Confederation Free Senate and what passed for government on New America these days.
Government? Katya grimaced. Anarchy was closer to the mark.
Why, she wondered, had she ever left the Confederation military? She’d thought she would be able to make a difference by running for office. During the time she’d been a senator, though, she’d seen little evidence that she was doing much of anything worthwhile. Lately, most of her time was spent mindlooping—what an earlier age had called “paper shuffling,” though that term was as dated now as “typewriter” or “videotape.”
She glanced sideways at Vic, who was leaning back at his desk with the distracted, glazed-over look of someone tapping his internal RAM for a piece of squirreled-away data. He’d made the right choice, clearly. He was a general now, one of the senior officers in ConMilCom’s Operations Center.
Katya Alessandro loved Vic Hagan dearly, though, as she sometimes tried to make herself forget, he’d been her second love. When Dev Cameron had… changed, his body destroyed at Second Herakles as his mind somehow became part of the group mind of the Naga-DalRiss fleet, any chance of a common physical ground between her and Dev had been wiped away. A year after Dev had left human space with the alien fleet-mind, she’d palmed an extended cohab contract with Vic. Daren—Dev’s son—had already been born by then, and she’d needed… somebody. A year and a half later, Kara had been born, her daughter by Vic.
Eventually, she’d resigned her commission and gone into politics. As one of the heroes of the revolution, she still had good recognition on New America, and she’d won her seat in
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