Orphan's Triumph

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BY THE TIME THE TEHRAN CAME IN SIGHT of Mousetrap, so many cruisers, Scorpions, transports, and tenders drifted dispersed in space around the moonlet that Mousetrap seemed enveloped in light fog, the way Bren’s Red Moon had looked when the Slugs cordoned it off.

Howard had returned with me on the Tehran , to shepherd the stones, and we split up when we off-shipped. The first thing I did when I off-shipped was check the port registry. The Emerald River was here, but her skipper was listed as a name I didn’t know. Mimi’s name appeared nowhere among the personnel of the vast fleet. Whatever had become of Mimi’s request for transfer back to a vessel command, it hadn’t landed her at Mousetrap. My next stop was Off-Station Communications, otherwise known as the post office. I had checked Jeeb’s doghouse there and reclaimed it.

The clerk scrolled his screens. “Nothing, sir. Not under ‘General’ or ‘Mr.’ If you’ve got outgoing, I can take it in, but Mousetrap’s been on lockdown since the push started last month. Nothing in or out.”

I toted Jeeb’s container with me to the Spook Penthouse on level forty-eight, to see Howard Hibble. The MP at the tube was the same one who had been on duty my last visit. He blocked my path.

“What’s up, Corporal?”

“Restricted area, sir.”

“I’m cleared.”

He shrugged, hand on his holstered sidearm. “Not in my ’Puter. Sir.”

Howard eventually came out and vouched for me, which shouldn’t have worked, but did. Even a retired general has a certain avoirdupois.

We sat in Howard’s office.

I scowled at him. “From the armada around this place, I gather the final push is cranking up. You could have told me.”

“You don’t have a clearance since this retirement business.”

I rolled my eyes. “That was just a paper game to shock the Duck. I’m going up to AOPD and unretire as soon as we’re done here. When do we jump off?”

Howard crossed his arms.

“Howard. This is me.”

He sighed. “Weaponization of the stones we brought back should take a month. The Tehran will refit in the meantime. The rest of the fleet’s been on alert for two months.”

I nodded. “Good. I can use the rest.”

Howard shrugged.

I pointed at the deck beneath us, beyond which, out in the space of the Mousetrap, the great human fleet drifted. “Howard, when that fleet leaves, I leave with it. I will see the end of this war.”

My next stop was on level twenty-nine, where the adjutant general’s office operated a branch of the Army Officer Personnel Directorate. The branch consisted of a compartment the size of a gang shower, occupied by one overweight, overworked, pug-nosed second lieutenant who was sufficiently junior that she was saddled with all administrative matters for the post.

I sat in front of her desk, leaning forward in my chair.

She ran her finger across a line on a flatscreen, then nodded. “Yes, Mr. Wander. Your paperwork came through from the Human Union Consulate on Tressel and was processed. Your initial pension check was direct deposited on the first, just before we locked down.”

“It’s General Wander. I want to unretire. It was a mistake.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“What I mean is I just needed some time off to attend to something I couldn’t accomplish as an army officer.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what your file says.”

I squirmed. “I know what I intended.”

“If you intended to abandon your post in the field during wartime, you intended to desert. Says here the judge advocate general’s office declined to prosecute only because Consul Muscovy included his sworn affidavit with your papers. The consul swore that he forced you to retire to avoid an interplanetary incident detrimental to diplomatic relations with the government of Tressen. You’re lucky you kept your pension.”

“What do I have to do to unretire?”

She cocked her head. “You’re too old to enlist again.” Then she brightened. “File a two-oh-two stroke seven. You might be reinstated at a reduced rank.”

I exhaled and closed my eyes. “Yes! Print me one.”

She shrugged again. “Sure. But it’s gotta be approved in Washington. And we’re on indefinite lockdown, so it can’t be transmitted off Mousetrap.”

I leaned forward with my elbows on the desk. “What am I in the meantime?”

She sighed, and swiveled her chair to face a different screen. “A ward of the Veterans Administration, Mr. Wander.”

I stood, planted my fists on her desk, and leaned forward. “I’ve been in this war from the beginning. I’m going to be in it at the end. Even as a spectator. Can you get me on a ship? Any ship. As a dishwasher or something?”

“Ships are classified areas. You aren’t cleared to enter a classified area. You can’t get cleared because-”

I exhaled so my lips flapped and made a motorboat noise. “Clearances have to be approved through Washington, but we’re on indefinite lockdown.”

She smiled. “I knew you’d understand. But as a retiree lawfully on a military post, you can access all unclassified areas.”

“Being?”

She rolled her eyes to the compartment ceiling and ticked off on her fingers. “This office. The post office. Bachelor Officers’ Quarters-you’re entitled to lodging there on a space-available basis. You have Officers’ Mess privileges. You can make purchases at the post exchange, including the package store if you’re of age.”

“What can I do besides sleep, eat, shop, and buy booze?”

“There’s the Mousetrap Library.”

“Is it any good?”

“It will be when I get time to start it.” She shrugged for the last time as she snatched a paper file off a stack. “Oh. And you can use the Officers’ Club.”

I smiled. “Perfect!”