42

They hit the penthouse first, rendezvousing with Zoric and Mwangi as well as Bueller and Labelle. Pilots and engineers and XOs and Captains filled the main living room of the luxury apartment in a chaotic swarm that was rapidly going to turn into a party.

Not for all of them, of course, but Kira wouldn’t begrudge her friends the break. Patel and Hoffman had come down with Conviction’s XO, and all of the old Memorial hands were gathered.

She took a moment to join them in looking out over Red Mountain, the lights of the town still seeming somewhat provincial to her.

“Hell of a task ahead of us,” Hoffman said grimly, his beer in his hand. “But we’re here together, and that means a lot.”

“Despite everything Brisingr and the Institute has thrown at us, here we are,” Kira agreed. “They can’t kill the Three-Oh-Three, my friends. We were a spark thrown into the tinder, and an entire nova-fighter corps has risen from the ashes.

“I don’t want to take all of the credit for the RRF’s new fighter wings, but we were the ones who captured the class two drive manufacturer. We were the ones who captured Deception and scared off the mercs at Ypres…and now we were the ones doing the training of their new pilots.

“Without the Three-Oh-Three, the Syntactic Cluster would be going somewhere very different today.” She toasted the city outside the window with her coffee cup. “No regrets, my friends. I mourn our friends and miss our home, but I’m glad we ended up here.”

“Together,” Cartman added, raising her own beer. “This Cluster was never ready for us.”

“Together,” Hoffman agreed. “These’re good people. I’m glad to fight for them—and I like their money.”

“The correct mercenary mindset!” Michel cheered. “To the Three-Oh-Three, standing together!”

“Together!” the six of them chorused.

Kira took a slug of her coffee and then spotted Konrad leaning on the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He was staring blankly at the window, not even looking at her or the others.

“Excuse me,” she murmured.

“Go,” Cartman said instantly, following her gaze. “He’s gonna be okay, boss, but he’ll be okay faster if you’re there.”

Kira dipped her head in a nod to her friends and crossed the apartment to her lover.

“Hey,” she said when he didn’t react to her approach. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he admitted. “But you knew that.”

“I did.” She came around the bar and pulled him into an embrace. “Estanza and Zoric and I need to get to a briefing soon, but I have time. You want to talk?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“Will it help?”

He snorted.

“Probably.” He sighed, leaning into her. He had a good fifteen centimeters of height on her, but he folded down to rest his head on her shoulder. “I… I wrote the documents, the processes, Kira. Calculated the risks, the likely losses. Told everyone what we could do to cut the construction down that far and what it would cost.

“But my god… Three hundred and eighteen people died to build those ships, Kira. Three hundred people. Because I worked out how we could save time and what safety protocols we could cut without risking the ships themselves.”

She could feel his tears leaking through her dress uniform, and she couldn’t bring herself to care if the cloth was stained. She held him.

“Every one of them a volunteer,” she reminded him. “We lost enough in fighter training. It’s a nightmare, Konrad. But what choice did we have? Redward was going to do everything they could whether we helped them or not.

“More people would have died in the fighter training without Estanza and me. I can’t help but feel that more people would have died in the construction without you and Labelle…and they’d have lost the ships anyway.”

“I… I have to believe that,” he admitted. “Not just for my ego, but because… My god. What have we done?”

“We helped the people of Redward give themselves a chance,” she told him. “A chance to stand on their own two feet and decide their own fate—and help the Cluster decide their own fate, rather than let the Institute decide that fate for everyone.”

“This is the difference between us and them, I guess,” he said. “They’d run the numbers, say this many deaths were necessary and move on. Just…leave the people as statistics. As numbers.”

“You’re an engineer, Konrad. Is it ever just numbers?”

“No. Every number has something behind it,” Bueller said. “And these ones… These ones have blood behind them.” He inhaled shakily and lifted his head, brushing away his tears.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Better than you, I think, but no,” Kira said. “We’ll deal with it together, and we’ll shove it down the Equilibrium Institute’s throat with a few dozen nukes attached. Sound good?”

He laughed. It was a thin thing but no less real for that.

“Sounds good. I’m sticking to water for tonight, but I think I should at least try to join the party,” he said. “And you?”

She checked the time in her headware.

“Our aircar is here in five,” she admitted. “It’s just about time to find out what the Syntactic Cluster has been up to while we’ve been locked in a box.”

“They’re going to regret locking these people in,” her boyfriend said fiercely. “Keels are being laid for one-twenties tomorrow. They’re not planning on rushing them as badly as we did the Barons, but they’ll have fleet carriers and battlecruisers soon.”

“You did that,” Kira told him. “The Institute is going to regret ever screwing with you and me, Konrad. Trust me on that.”

“I do,” he said simply.

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