Read Online Drysine Legacy (The Spiral Wars Book 2) by Joel Shepherd - Free Book Online
Authors: Joel Shepherd
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Anjo demanded. “I’m telling you, this was an inside job. I think I was set up, Colonel. And I’ll not take the fall for this alone, I can assure you.”
“There was no inside job,” Khola said calmly. “Major Thakur is Kulina, like me. Others may have her combat skills, but very few possess the calmness of mind to utilise them as she does. She was my student for one year at the Academy, and while her decisions have surprised and disappointed me, the outcomes once she made those decisions have not.” He paused. “And you will take the fall for this.”
Anjo turned to look at him. Lips pressed tight, trembling with hard emotion. “I will not,” he retorted. “I was placed in an impossible circumstance.”
“That is irrelevant,” said Khola. “We battle for human survival. Our own individual survival is unimportant. And fear not, Fleet Admiral Ishmael and Supreme Commander Chankow will meet the same fate as you.”
“I will appeal!” Anjo retorted. Khola had been warned of this, and it did not surprise him. Anjo had been climbing this greasy pole most of his life. Like so many of Fleet’s highest officers. “I will demand a full accounting of the decision making process behind my dismissal! It will not be pretty, Colonel. You go and you tell your Guidance Council that, before we take this any further.”
“There will be no accounting, Admiral,” Khola told him. “You misread the situation. Fleet needs a clean break from its current leadership. There can be no dispute, no ongoing proceedings leading to further debate and acrimony. It must be fast, and it must be final.”
Khola pulled his sidearm from its holster. Anjo paled. “Oh no no no,” he murmured. Tremors began in his hands, and he stumbled back a step.
“For the human cause, Admiral,” Khola said simply. “The only cause that matters. It must be by your own hand. You will leave a note admitting your responsibility and regret. Humanity’s future depends on it.”
“I won’t.” Anjo stumbled back against the wall for balance, face blank with terror. “I won’t, I won’t.”
“You will.”
“Please.” Begging, as his eyes filled with tears. “Please, my family is downstairs. You can’t do this. Think of them.”
“I’m thinking of us all,” Khola said calmly. “And I shan’t do it. You shall.”
In sudden fury, Anjo drew himself up. “I am a Fleet Admiral!” he yelled. “I have worked my whole life to achieve this position, and I will not be intimidated by some lowly Colonel with jumped up delusions of grandeur!”
The yelling would not help him, Khola knew. This was a secure room, and largely soundproof. Lieutenant Abrahms, who had departed the room before, had moved the marines on guard outside at the same time. No one would come. He nodded to Lieutenant Parrikar, who walked around Anjo’s desk to the drawer, and pulled out the Admiral’s personal pistol, just where intel had said it was. Parrikar handed it over to Khola.
Anjo grabbed a chair and tried to heave it at the window, but the chair was heavy. Khola grabbed it with a hand, then broke Anjo’s grip to make him drop it. Anjo lashed at his arm, but that merely gave Khola the leverage for an armlock that dropped Anjo to his knees. Anjo screamed, but Khola took a handkerchief from his pocket he’d kept for the purpose, and stuffed it into Anjo’s mouth. He then dragged the man, with Lieutenant Parrikar’s assistance, kicking and flailing to his desk chair, and put him in it.
The pistol was a snubbed K7, standard Fleet officer’s issue, and would not make an especially loud noise in a secure room. With augmented strength Khola locked Anjo’s left arm behind his back, forced the K7 into the right hand that Parrikar held ready. Parrikar then bear hugged Anjo to the chair to hold him in place, while Khola locked the arms, and forced the pistol hand around and stuffed the muzzle into Anjo’s mouth. Anjo tried to thrash his head, and Parrikar stopped
“There was no inside job,” Khola said calmly. “Major Thakur is Kulina, like me. Others may have her combat skills, but very few possess the calmness of mind to utilise them as she does. She was my student for one year at the Academy, and while her decisions have surprised and disappointed me, the outcomes once she made those decisions have not.” He paused. “And you will take the fall for this.”
Anjo turned to look at him. Lips pressed tight, trembling with hard emotion. “I will not,” he retorted. “I was placed in an impossible circumstance.”
“That is irrelevant,” said Khola. “We battle for human survival. Our own individual survival is unimportant. And fear not, Fleet Admiral Ishmael and Supreme Commander Chankow will meet the same fate as you.”
“I will appeal!” Anjo retorted. Khola had been warned of this, and it did not surprise him. Anjo had been climbing this greasy pole most of his life. Like so many of Fleet’s highest officers. “I will demand a full accounting of the decision making process behind my dismissal! It will not be pretty, Colonel. You go and you tell your Guidance Council that, before we take this any further.”
“There will be no accounting, Admiral,” Khola told him. “You misread the situation. Fleet needs a clean break from its current leadership. There can be no dispute, no ongoing proceedings leading to further debate and acrimony. It must be fast, and it must be final.”
Khola pulled his sidearm from its holster. Anjo paled. “Oh no no no,” he murmured. Tremors began in his hands, and he stumbled back a step.
“For the human cause, Admiral,” Khola said simply. “The only cause that matters. It must be by your own hand. You will leave a note admitting your responsibility and regret. Humanity’s future depends on it.”
“I won’t.” Anjo stumbled back against the wall for balance, face blank with terror. “I won’t, I won’t.”
“You will.”
“Please.” Begging, as his eyes filled with tears. “Please, my family is downstairs. You can’t do this. Think of them.”
“I’m thinking of us all,” Khola said calmly. “And I shan’t do it. You shall.”
In sudden fury, Anjo drew himself up. “I am a Fleet Admiral!” he yelled. “I have worked my whole life to achieve this position, and I will not be intimidated by some lowly Colonel with jumped up delusions of grandeur!”
The yelling would not help him, Khola knew. This was a secure room, and largely soundproof. Lieutenant Abrahms, who had departed the room before, had moved the marines on guard outside at the same time. No one would come. He nodded to Lieutenant Parrikar, who walked around Anjo’s desk to the drawer, and pulled out the Admiral’s personal pistol, just where intel had said it was. Parrikar handed it over to Khola.
Anjo grabbed a chair and tried to heave it at the window, but the chair was heavy. Khola grabbed it with a hand, then broke Anjo’s grip to make him drop it. Anjo lashed at his arm, but that merely gave Khola the leverage for an armlock that dropped Anjo to his knees. Anjo screamed, but Khola took a handkerchief from his pocket he’d kept for the purpose, and stuffed it into Anjo’s mouth. He then dragged the man, with Lieutenant Parrikar’s assistance, kicking and flailing to his desk chair, and put him in it.
The pistol was a snubbed K7, standard Fleet officer’s issue, and would not make an especially loud noise in a secure room. With augmented strength Khola locked Anjo’s left arm behind his back, forced the K7 into the right hand that Parrikar held ready. Parrikar then bear hugged Anjo to the chair to hold him in place, while Khola locked the arms, and forced the pistol hand around and stuffed the muzzle into Anjo’s mouth. Anjo tried to thrash his head, and Parrikar stopped
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