DISCLAIMERS: This has the potential to be very sad. Beware of the usual suspects as well; violence, sexual situations, poor grammar, foul language, and flawed characters.

COWARD

by Phair

Part 1

Rory struggled trying wake herself from the familiar nightmare.

The man of her dreams stood at the door to a cozy home holding their toddler son. He smiled and the boy mirrored the look.

"Welcome home, my soldier girl," his voice brimming with expectations of things to come.

"That's Major to you," she grinned up at the pair from the bottom step, "but the little guy can always call me Mommy."

Before another word could be uttered, a deafening explosion from within the house sent Rory to the ground. When her rattled senses permitted, she managed to roll to her knees. Before her, scattered across the blackened lawn, were the smoldering remains of what was once her whole life. Now both her husband and son lay dead in each others arms. Her heart broke.

Rory awoke trying to silence the screaming in her head. It always took her several seconds to calm her body and take in the surroundings after reliving the death of her family in her dreams. She frowned wondering what triggered the memory she kept buried so deep this time.

A missile blast rocked the bunker and knocked Rory out of bed. "That answers the question about my dream," she grimaced as she climbed to her feet. Once again she was grateful she left her body armor on and only removed her helmet to get some sleep.

Heading to the fox hole at the front line of the bunker, she woke the other four soldiers on break, "I swear you lot could sleep through the end of the world. Let's go! We're taking fire. Move it."

The frigid night air was heavy with the hint of snow and spent mortar rounds. She squared her shoulders when she saw the tanks lining the horizon and on the move toward her position. The shear number was enough to send a shiver down the bravest of spines. The truth was, with the arms those tanks carried, one vehicle could turn each member of her twenty troupe squad to dust in an eye blink.

"Stuart, you should have called me at first sight of 'em! How long have they been visible?" She shouted at the young sentry.

"An hour, ma'am," the soldier's voice cracked. "Don't matter no how. I was gonna call you but Colonel McShane radioed and ordered us to hold the position to the last soldier. He also said to hold fire until the bunker takes a direct hit."

"The Hell we will!"

"They're leaving us behind, Major," Fred, the Captain, unnecessarily observed.

Rory knew he was right. McShane was well known for staging dramatic engagements in the field. Before any of his big assaults on enemy targets he always served up a sacrificial squad to focus national anger in their endless war.

An unending endeavor to sway the apathetic voting public. Rory understood, first hand, the futility of war. Twenty years and millions dead and neither side was closer to compromise than the day the first soldier died. A useless waste of good human beings.

"Captain, any squad forward of our position?" Rory asked.

"No, ma'am."

"Rear?"

"Bunkers H62, K83, and Z196 have all bugged out. McShane's bunker is checking out in about twenty minutes." The Captain scowled before repeating, "He's leaving us to die."

Rory shook her head, "No, he's not. Everybody, listen up. Drop your weapons and head out the back hatch. Stay together and move directly for McShane's position." Her troupe stood staring at her. "I said move," her voice dropped into a dangerous range, "now move!"

Her squad sprung into action at the second command. She could see the relief on their faces. They were so trusting, so young, so innocent. They believed in her. It was going to make the price she paid for her decision a little easier to endure.

"Major," Fred stepped closer to her side in order to keep his voice down, "you can't do this. You know what will happen to you. You know the penalty for a Command failure."

"Fred, you grab one of those lovely white sheets off the last bunk before you climb out the hatch. If one bullet comes your way from either side you start waving that mother like it's our very own flag," Rory gave him a wink then turned to lift a rocket launcher into position.

"Ma'am, what are you doing? You can't hold this position alone. You got to at least come with us," Fred was stunned by her behavior.

"Me, I'm done, Fred. But, those kids I got waiting on my orders are babies. I can't just let them die. You get them to McShane's bunker and I'll give you fire cover if you need it. Go on, get going before our troupe out runs you, you old bastard," Rory smiled after her command. "I'll hot foot it over as soon as the last ass hits the sand!"

Fred had tears in his eyes, "It's been an honor to serve with you, Major." He saluted sharply then raced back into the bunker.

Rory could almost hear them scrambling across the barren field behind the bunker. She watched the opposing tanks carefully for signs of aggression. After several long minutes, Rory noticed the advance had stopped. She waited as the roar of the evac hovercrafts loomed in the distance. The tanks rolled back into an even formation. They formed a single, delineated line.

"They want a withdrawal, not surrender," she realized with a flash of clarity.

Taking the opportunity, Rory made a run for it. If she was to die then she'd rather die in the country of her birth. Let her government execute her for cowardice. At the very least, she saved her squad. One life for nineteen was worth the price. And her life, she believed, did not add up to a whole life anyway. Even in the dark, she could see her soldiers had made it to the rear bunker.

"Just one more little soldier to go, Geronimo," she thought in silent prayer as she plunged into McShane's bunker feet first.

"You stupid bitch," McShane slapped her across the face before she could even stand up. "You'll pay for ruining my operation. I'm gonna make sure you pay dearly."

Rory stayed silent. She could hear the evac hovercrafts landing and she didn't want to jeopardize her squad's departure . McShane kicked her in the gut with a high polished boot tip.

"You're gonna wish you were never born."

A flurry of blows landed across her body. She couldn't tell if it was one man or two hitting her. She didn't really care. Rory could hear her soldiers calling their thanks to the evac crews.

"Safe. They're safe. I managed to save somebody," she thought happily before falling into unconsciousness.

* * *

Rory let them manhandle her. After days of interrogations and beatings and little food or drink, she was done trying to co-operate with her jailers. If they wanted her out of the cell then they were going to have to carry her out. Which was exactly what four burly soldiers were doing at the moment. Two had her arms and two had her legs as they marched down the hallway to the courtroom.

The soldiers used her head and right shoulder to push open the heavy wood door. Rory let out a short gasp at the thudding connection. She tried to blink back the stars which clouded her vision with little success. By the time she could see clearly, she had been chained to a chair next to a young man in civilian clothes.

"You suppose to be my lawyer?" She asked as she tried to shake off her multiple injuries.

He shrugged, "Something like that, I guess."

"What are you a paralegal?" Rory was stunned by his response.

"I'm a mediator. The damn liberal courts say chickens like you get to have counsel. Armed Combat Troupe Guide to Services defines counsel as a lawyer or mediator. Either/Or. Don't worry, sweetheart," the man looked directly at her and sneered, "I should be able to handle your case. After all, I finished high school."

Rory tried to reign in her emotions. She really didn't need a lawyer. The trial would end in a guilty verdict which would result in an automatic death penalty. Rory just needed to be allowed to make a statement. The judge would be an active duty general and telling him about the field maneuvers of the enemy would turn the course of the war. He would understand the significance. It was all about neutral lines and a truce. The opposition was willing to stay at a truce.

Rory calmly asked, "What happens next?"

"General Franco will be seated and ask your plea. I tell him guilty and ask for leniency and he'll condemn you. Should take about twenty minutes," the young mediator looked at his watch. "I'll make it back home in time for Judge Judy; the Next Incarnation."

"Well, a boy does have to study," Rory replied in a sweet voice. "When will I get a chance to speak?"

"You don't."

"Wait a second. I'm guaranteed a right to speak on my on behalf regardless of the plea." She watched in amazement as the young man started shuffling through his papers searching for the answer. "Hey, Matlock, pay attention," she barked the command and the guard behind her smacked the back of her chair with his baton.

"SHUT UP!"

Rory swallowed hard and sat back. The mediator thanked the guard. He flashed her a smug grin before returning to his papers. She would have laughed if it all wasn't so pathetic. There was no need to railroad her. She was willing to plead guilty. Still, the military and the government weren't taking any chances with her.

"Remain seated," General Franco spoke as he entered. "Can't slow down justice with formality."

"Your honor, the defense counsel and I have agreed to skip the reading of charges and move to the pleading," the prosecutor announced.

Rory knew him. It chilled her to acknowledge it to herself but she did know him. The prosecuting Lieutenant had visited her cell on two occasions. He left her each time naked and humiliated.

"Fine with me. How's she pleading?"

"Guilty to all charges," the mediator stood and nodded to the General with a wide smile.

General Franco winked back, "Okay, on to sentencingÖ"

"Article 7 dash 23 D of the criminal code allows me to speak directly to you regardless of my pleaÖ,"

Rory closed her eyes as a sudden rush of air came from beside her. She hit the floor still bound to the chair from the force of the blow. The swelling over her right eye began immediately.

"Son of a bitch," Rory hissed when she realized her own counselor had slugged her.

"You shut up, just shut up and don't ruin this for me," the mediator was frantically slapping at her as the guards righted her chair.

The gavel banging matched the throbbing in Rory's head. Still, she was glad for it because it got the mediator to stop hitting her.

"Jonny, Jonny, take your seat, boy," General Franco spoke quietly.

"Sorry, Uncle Frank. I told her to be quiet but she won't do what you tell her to do," the young man tried to explain.

The prosecutor laughed, "That's exactly why we're here now, isn't?"

The courtroom burst into fits of laughter. Rory waited with a half smile on her face. She waited until the judge was prepared to speak again.

"Let's see, back to businessÖ,"

Rory steeled herself, "I'm entitled to speakÖ," she could not help but flinch when good boy Jonny turned her way with fists raised.

"Hold off there, Jonny. She gets two minutes to say whatever foolishness she wants. Young woman, I just want you to know your statement will not be kept as part of the court record. So, it is just us few who are your captive audience. Guard if she doesn't stop talking the moment I order her to then gag her. The prisoner may begin."

"General, you need to bring my field observation back to Command. The opposing tanks did not advance on my position when we abandoned the bunker. They, in fact, returned to their previous formation. If you check the maps then you'll see McShane brought us over the Demarcation Line of 2087."

"So what? That line is ancient history. The New Year's violation of 2100 destroyed the agreement," the Lieutenant countered. "Every schoolboy knows about the New Year's Day War."

"Which has lasted more than twenty years," Rory fired back. "General, I don't have much time please listen me," Rory strained against her bonds to shout over the prosecutor.

"LET HER FINISH!"

"Thank you," Rory was grateful. "The night I abandoned my post there was no more forward position than my command. And, no more forward position of the enemies. We were at a scrimmage line and I retreated but they never moved to claim the territory. The tanks moved back to the '87 Line."

"So, your point is, they want peace," the General yawned.

"No, my point is they signaled a truce with me that night. Bring my report to Command. Tell them to hold the line and let the fighting end today. Make my death worth something. Let my death be the last senseless death," with her hands bound, Rory could not wipe away her tears.

General Franco cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on Rory, "I was a classmate of your father long before the war began. My family attended your naming ceremony. My wife and I attended your secondary graduation where you accepted the rank of Private, First Class. I had such high hopes for your career. You excelled in your studies at the War College. Your physical abilities in Field Combat Summer Elective have yet to be surpassed. Some of us were certain you'd make General and sit with us in the planning room one day."

The old soldier let out a great sigh of distress, "Then you hit a bump. Steve? Was that his name? And, then the baby so soon after the marriage." The General rolled his eyes. "Tragic as their loss was, most of us at Command hoped it would bring you back into the fold. Physically you did return to your duties. But, you lost your fire. You went soft. Even when we put you in the thick of the battle, you held back. You, who mourned a dead husband and child thanks to the enemy counter operations division, should have known the depths of their cunning. Their strategy on the field the night of your crime was to once again try to lull us into inattention as they did in '87. No, truce is not possible. Annihilation is the only victory possible."

Rory shook her head in disbelief.

"We are fortunate our culture has strong extraterrestrial allies. While they are unwilling to join us on the battlefield, they have provided us technology and weaponry to continue our struggle. The Varicants have also allowed us to use their penal colony for our most dangerous criminals. You, Rory, are among the most dangerous I've ever met." The General pointed at her as he spoke, "You fooled the brightest military minds of our time. I shudder to think how you would corrupt the innocent public. Therefore, for the protection of future generations, I sentence you to the penal colony on T298: New Earth. They tell me human life expectancy is extended due to some chemical or some such nonsense."

The prosecutor interrupted, "Your Honor, it's in the air. The compounds are inhaled and supplement the body's immune system thus extending life. Varicants have told us of humans living to 300 years on New Earth."

"Ya, but what a rotten place to live," the mediator laughed.

"Excellent points. So my sentence must take into account an unusually long life time. Just to be precise, I'm going to sentence the prisoner to a term no shorted than three days after she is declared dead." General Franco grinned, quite happy with his decision.

Rory glared. In her heart she never wanted to believe Command had a role in the deaths of her husband and son. However, General Franco's words convinced her she was foolish to ignore the obvious. The only people with something to gain from destroying her life was her own side. But, instead of creating a vengeful monster they wanted to fight their war, the death of her loves had left her empty and searching for something to quiet the ache in her heart.

"You're going to suffer for centuries," the mediator leaned over to taunt her.

Rory moved faster than the guards could respond. She caught the smug little bastard by the cheek and bit deep. His screams would be one last, small, happy memory for her trip to Hell.

TBC

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