We’re not allowed to stop them. We just stand around with our thumbs in our asses giving them extra targets to practice on. People are dying down there while we pretend that we give a shit for the benefit of the citizens back in the Core. We could put a stop to the nonsense down there in five days. But we’re not allowed to.”

She glanced at her slate again and then back at me. “We’re not supposed to intervene. We’re supposed to let the citizens work out their problems in their own way and in their own time. Think of how it would look if we put troops on the ground. It would be Corinthia all over again. We’re here to support and encourage the peace process.”

“So we do nothing until the bodycount rises into the tens of thousands? That’s the plan?”

“Well at least there are forty-four less troublemakers down there for you to worry about. You moved us a tick toward the intervention threshold all by yourself.”

There was not a lot I could say about that so instead I asked, “What’s going to happen next?”

“The local Reps are still on the warpath. The Accord Arbitrators are pissed off. Fortunately for you Representative Monger supports you one hundred and ninety eight per cent.”

Monger was the figurehead of the Fiscal Loyalists, a coalition of local business types and the big off-world mining and agri corps. No representation without taxation was their slogan. Anybody who put the boot into the church militias was all right by them. And their money talked at least when it came to Federal politics.

“Nice to know the taxpayers are on my side.”

“Let’s see if they feel the same way when the bill for reparations comes in.”

“Just tell them that all the bullets the Jihad wasted on me, won’t be used to extract protection money from the local corporates.”

“We’ll be having full and frank discussions about the situation.”

“I know what that means.”

“You don’t know anything. Haven’t you got that into your head yet? I am trying to put out the fire you just lit and I would appreciate a little cooperation while I am doing it.”

“By that you mean contrition.”

“I just don’t want you smartmouthing the Reps and the Arbitrators, at least not until I’ve pulled you out of this hole you seem determined to dig yourself into. Just keep a low profile. Think you can manage that?”

“What does my psych test say?”

“You really want to know?”

I nodded.

“That you are kind of a dick.”

“But at least I am the sort of dick you’ll want to have around when the Assimilators come back.”

“Let’s hope we never find out. I’m not sure we’re in a position to do anything about them after the last wave of budget cuts.”

And suddenly I knew what all this was about. Election year. Budget cuts. Lots of Grid footage of me mowing down civilians. Lots of peaceniks in the Core saying this is what our tax dollars are being used for.

“I hate it when StarForce becomes a political football,” I said.

“War is an extension of politics by other means,” the Colonel said. “So are military budgets.”

“I didn’t notice any of our politicians in the dropships when we were fighting the Brood,” I said.

“Probably just as well, they would only have got us killed.”

“And they can do that without getting into the ships,” I said. She gave me a strange look.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes they can. Now get the hell out of here.”

Chapter Five

My squad were waiting at their table in the mess. They kept their eyes glued to their cards as I entered. I ignored the catcalls form Anderson and Medved’s people and made my way across to the table where my squad sat.

“How did it go?” Medico Mark asked without lifting his gaze from the hand of blues and reds.