Theirs Not to Reason Why 4: Hardship

PRAISE FOR THE THEIRS NOT TO REASON WHY NOVELS

HELLFIRE

“With all the setup over, we now move into the opening skirmishes of the new Salik War, and Ia returns with full force at the helm of a story that is both highly entertaining and extremely involving in equal measure.”

—
The Founding Fields

“This exciting addition to a fantastic space opera series continues to provide a mesmerizing multilayered read.”

—
Night Owl Reviews

AN OFFICER’S DUTY

“Fast-paced with terrific battle scenes and deep characterizations.”

—
Genre Go Round Reviews

“An engrossing military SF series.”

—
SF Signal

A SOLDIER’S DUTY

“Reminiscent of both
Starship Troopers
and
Dune
 . . . Successfully balances its military and science fiction elements.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“Full of suspense, danger, and intrigue, this new series shows a lot of promise. Fans of military science fiction will definitely want to check out this surprising and exciting novel.”

—SciFiChick.com

“If you simply want a book where a female character sinks and swims based on her own insights and courage as well as precognitive powers all the while knowing that the fate of a galaxy will be determined by her actions, this is the book for you.”

—
CSI: Librarian

PRAISE FOR JEAN JOHNSON AND THE SONS OF DESTINY NOVELS

“Jean Johnson’s writing is fabulously fresh, thoroughly romantic, and wildly entertaining. Terrific—fast, sexy, charming, and utterly engaging. I loved it!”

—Jayne Ann Krentz,
New York Times
bestselling author

“Cursed brothers, fated mates, prophecies, yum! A fresh new voice in fantasy romance, Jean Johnson spins an intriguing tale of destiny and magic.”

—Robin D. Owens, RITA Award–winning author

“A must-read for those who enjoy fantasy and romance. I . . . eagerly look forward to each of the other brothers’ stories. Jean Johnson can’t write them fast enough for me!”

—
The Best Reviews

“[It] has everything—love, humor, danger, excitement, trickery, hope, and even sizzling-hot . . . sex.”

—
Errant Dreams Reviews

“Enchantments, amusement, and eight hunks and one bewitching woman make for a fun romantic fantasy . . . Humorous and magical . . . A delightful charmer.”

—
Midwest Book Review

“A paranormal adventure series that will appeal to fantasy and historical fans, plus time-travel lovers as well . . . Delightful entertainment.”

—
Romance Junkies

Titles by Jean Johnson

Theirs Not to Reason Why

A SOLDIER’S DUTY

AN OFFICER’S DUTY

HELLFIRE

HARDSHIP

The Sons of Destiny

THE SWORD

THE WOLF

THE MASTER

THE SONG

THE CAT

THE STORM

THE FLAME

THE MAGE

The Guardians of Destiny

THE TOWER

THE GROVE

THE GUILD

SHIFTING PLAINS

BEDTIME STORIES

FINDING DESTINY

THE SHIFTER

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

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HARDSHIP

An Ace Book / published by arrangement with the author

Copyright © 2014 by G. Jean Johnson.

Excerpt from
Damnation
by Jean Johnson copyright © 2014 by G. Jean Johnson.

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eBook ISBN: 978-0-698-13968-8

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Ace mass-market edition / August 2014

Cover art by Gene Mollica.

Interior text design by Laura K. Corless.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

My thanks to my beta team for this book, Breimh, Buzzy, NotSoSaintly, and Stormi, and to my editor, Cindy, and the others at Ace/Berkley, particularly for being gracious about several health-caused and other scheduling delays in finishing this story. My thanks to Ace Books for being willing to take a series-sized chance on an author who got her foot firmly in the door in the romance genre first. Since these books have been bestsellers with an award nomination, I think I can safely say their faith in me has been justified.

Additional thanks go to my dear friend Eoin for loaning me his books on small-team tactics and for serving in Vietnam. I was born toward the end of the war, too young to understand what was going on until I was much older, but I do understand now. You and your companions, your brothers- and sisters-in-arms, should have come home to welcoming cheers and helping hands. I’m sorry it took so long for most of you to be welcomed home. I’m sorry it took so long to get your companions the help so many veterans have needed, and so long for everyone else to understand what you all went through, both during and after the war. I do think we have learned from those mistakes, though.

A bit of trivia for everyone: A lot of the ship names throughout this series have been selected from real-life heroes, military and otherwise. I selected them from the past and present, and from locations around the world, ranging from Liu Ji to Simo Häyhä, Max Hardberger to Nadezhda Popova, and beyond. Please feel free to look them up; their courage and skill, knowledge and effort deserve recognition, among many, many other heroes I had no room to include in this series. Perhaps in the next one, I’ll be able to squeeze in a few more.

As ever, this series is dedicated to the men and women who serve in the armed forces, all the way around the world. This isn’t about politics or governmental decisions; this is about being willing to put one’s life on the line for a fellow human being . . . so those who work in the emergency services, police, firemen, medics, so on and so forth, you all count, too. Your love for your fellow beings is noted, appreciated, and admired more than you know.

The next time you see someone in uniform, please take the time to thank them for the work they do, for being willing to put their lives on the line in exchange for yours. If I have done nothing else with this series, I hope I have helped at least a few of you develop the deep respect these people deserve. Stop and give them your thanks, buy them a cup of coffee, whatever you like and whatever they’ll accept. Just let them know that you care, that—hopefully—you now understand at least a little of why they’re in that uniform, doing what they do, with all the risks and dangers and insanities they may have to face in the course of their day.

Let them know that you’ll always remember to welcome them home, regardless of the areas they served in or the outcomes of any wars.

Enjoy,

Jean

Yet another joy-filled delay . . . Thank you again for being willing to pause this interview so I could take care of certain shipboard details. We’re getting close to bringing everything up to date, though, so I trust you’ll find this last leg worth the wait. And I thank you for allowing me to address everything chronologically, since I know some of what’s coming up contains some of the biggest questions people have held about me, my plans, and, well, everything. At least this way, you and your viewers will have a reasonably solid understanding of everything that led up to these things.

Now, if I remember correctly, we’d reached the point where I had destroyed my previous ship, the TUPSF
Hellfire
, to keep it out of enemy hands—which enemy? The Feyori, of course. The undergalaxy isn’t my concern. There’s no way a Salik or a Choya or even a Grey could get onto my ship without my permission, let alone a Human impostor . . . but the Meddlers are another matter. Unfortunately, there was only one way to keep the
Hellfire
out of their hands and, at the same time, force them into faction with me—and yes, I had the Admiral-General’s permission. Extremely reluctant permission, but it wasn’t as if I could pilot two starships at once, so
Hellfire
had to make way for
Damnation
 . . . which is ironically apropos, given the hardship that followed.

I can’t go into all the details of that incident, since most of it is still classified, but I can pick up the thread with my arrival on Dabin—if you’ve never been to Dabin and can tolerate the gravity, I can recommend going there for a vacation once the war ends. Gorgeous world, even if it’s still recovering. I can honestly say I would love to go there again, once the war is over . . . Actually, a lot of places are like that.

But that’s a thought for the future, and we’re here to talk about the past, aren’t we?

~Ia

JUNE 3, 2498 TERRAN STANDARD

OUTSKIRTS OF ELTEGAR CITY

JOINT COLONYWORLD DABIN, DABINAE SYSTEM

Three silvery, interclinging soap bubbles slipped their way down past the ugly, ceristeel-coated Salik vessels in orbit. Descending through the layers of Dabin’s atmosphere, they ignored the heat of reentry because there was no matter for the air to rub against for the necessary friction. A slight course correction brought them down through the night toward a particular scattering of lights; otherwise, their descent was steady.

At the edge of those lights, they swerved again, detouring toward the hydroplant powering the town. Drifting to a stop just in front of the step-down station, the silvery soap bubbles dipped down into the faintly humming cables. The town lights in the distance dimmed slightly, then blinked out for a few seconds.

All three surfaces darkened until one of the bubbles popped. The lights in the distance flicked back on. A new figure dropped toward the ground, falling from the middle position. At nearly twice Terran Standard Gravity, the pull of the planet made the female Human drop fast . . . except she slowed at the last moment. Telekinesis cushioned her landing, burning off the excess energy left over from her transformation.

Ia touched down with a sigh. The gravity was the same one she and her crew had slowly gotten used to over the last two years, though not nearly as strong as the pull of the planet she’d grown up on. Raking her chin-length white locks back from her face, she looked up at the other two bubbles, who were now merely sipping on the energies contained in the power lines overhead.

She still wore the same rumpled clothing from just a few days before: gray shirt and slacks with black stripes down the legs and sleeves; gray underthings and black ship boots; a gray plexi officer’s bracer clasped over her shirtsleeve on her left forearm; and a crystalline bracer tucked under the sleeve of her right arm, its faint glow barely visible at the cuff opening. Her companions still looked like two dark, silvery soap bubbles roughly half the size of hovercars.

(
Thank you for the lift,
) she sent telepathically. It wasn’t a strong psychic gift—one of her weakest, in fact—but she managed to make herself heard. Not that they couldn’t have read her mind directly, but that wouldn’t be polite . . . and they were now more or less equals. Or rather, she was now a fellow Player in the Feyori’s great Game. (
I’m still not very good at that whole interstellar-travel thing, and I won’t get a lot of chances to practice anytime soon.
)

(
The principle is the exact same as your faster-than-light technology: projecting a field of energy that neutralizes the Higgs Field, a bubble that “greases” you through space, and make one side slippery enough to squirt you past the speed of light,
) Belini replied. She was the silvery soap bubble on the left. (
You just haven’t learned yet how to regurgitate and reshape your food on demand. It’s all about projectile vomiting,
) she giggled mentally.

Ia rolled her eyes. Belini had a strange sense of humor at times. (
Like I said, I won’t get a chance to practice much, so thank you for the lift. But it was worth it,
) Ia added. (
I’m glad so many of you were swayed to my cause.
)

(
I don’t think you’ve convinced all of ’em, kid,
) Kierfando warned her. He was the soap bubble on her right as she looked up at the two aliens. (
Not one hundred percent.
)

(
I know I haven’t. It’ll be an uphill struggle to get enough of your people on my side in time to do the most good,
) Ia agreed. (
But they’ll see how determined I am to help them when they do faction with me, now that they’re all watching me.
)

(
I know Miklinn will be furious when he finds out. He will continue to counterfaction you,
) Belini warned Ia. (
A pity you didn’t pull him in. But you did pull in and receive ten times the quorum you needed for formal recognition, so you’re not the least-ranked among us . . . which is bound to upset a few of the others. Hopefully, they’ll be smart enough to faction with you.
) A touch of smugness colored her sending. (
As for myself, I’ve just made up all the ground you made me lose, and plenty more. I’m now almost three times higher-ranked than I was before.
)

(
I told you I’d repay your faith in me,
) Ia told the sphere on the left, giving her sponsor a brief, theatrical bow.

She shifted her attention back to the one on her right. To her Human eyes, they looked the same, virtually identical silvery soap bubbles. To her inner senses, they were distinct individuals. To the needs of the future . . . well, their species tried to make the matter-based races their pawns. Ia had to use them the same way. At least her reasons and needs were aimed for the good of all and not some sort of Game-based whim.

(
Thank you for
your
help and support, Kierfando,
) she told him, though “he” was only a male by choice in this era. His long-lived species didn’t exactly correspond to Human analogs in their native state. (
You’d better get back to V’Dan, though. You have a couple of the younger ones jockeying for power in your absence. Both of you need to get going within two minutes, or you’ll lose momentum back in your home territories.
)

(
You’ll be fine out here?
) he asked her, sounding a bit like a fond uncle fussing over his niece. In the sense that her father was a fellow Feyori, he probably was. (
We could move you closer if you like, but all of us needed a good meal, first.
)

Ia shook her head. (
I’ll be fine. I’m about to call up my Company and let them know I’ve arrived. They’ll make sure I get to where I need to go in time to start doing some good.
) Something cold and wet smacked into the tip of her nose. Squinting, Ia looked up, then sighed as another droplet hit her chin and her cheek. A fourth stung her forehead. She wrinkled her nose. (
Lovely, it’s starting to rain. Lucky you. Energy beings aren’t affected by things like rain, unlike us matter-based ones. Well, maybe by the thermal chill of the water . . .
)

(
That’s because you limit yourself to matter-based concerns,
) Kier sent, a mild scolding and a dry quip rolled into one. (
You have a very compelling reason from a matter-based perspective, but it’s still a limiting one. We’ll see you soon. Pluck our strings in the way I showed you if you wish to talk. But beware that we ourselves are not in faction to the Dabin contingent, on either side of the war. You will be hard-pressed to convince them without another massive squandering of energy.
)

(
Remember also that plucking our strings for a summoning costs energy as well, and stock up before you call again. You don’t want to drain yourself. Starvation in a Feyori can be deadly if you don’t conserve your reserves carefully,
) Belini cautioned her. (
At least we could come back to rescue you, this time. Do also take into account that we may be busy with our own concerns since we now have some serious realigning to do following your little shake-up. You’re lucky I’m inclined to think this’ll be fun instead of a stellar-sized headache.
) Sucking one last time on the power cables, she swirled and lifted into the sky.

Kier did the same, dipping into the electrical current before following her. (
Take care, half-breed. As you fleshies put it, straddling the fence between two worlds may give you a foot in each world, but it also gives you a hell of a wedgie if you’re not careful.
)

Caught off guard by his quip, Ia chuckled. She watched for as long as she could detect movement in the sky as he left, following Belini up to where they could feast on the local solar winds for a bit more energy, then sighed. Alone in the late-evening drizzle, she flipped open the lid of her command unit.

The buttons of the interior had no symbols on them, in order to prevent outsiders from accessing their functions; instead, every soldier in the Terran Space Force had to memorize which rounded square did what. Punching in the contact codes for her second-in-command’s unit, Ia started walking toward the town.

It took him twenty seconds to answer. When he did, Meyun Harper’s voice was both startled and relieved. And sleepy-sounding.
“—Captain? Ia, is that you? I, uh . . . time, time . . . You’re almost half a day late!”

“And a good evening to you, too,”
Ia replied, smiling.
“Turns out I didn’t have a knack for mastering the trick of interstellar flight without a ship. I had to get a lift from some friends. Any chance you could send me some matter-based transport? All I have at the moment are my clothes, ship boots, and arm unit.”

She heard a fumbling sound, followed by a loud clatter and a crude epithet.
“—Sorry, dropped the arm unit. Uh . . . ground car, we can do. I think. The Army hasn’t been entirely cooperative about our presence here, mostly because of the higher-ups. Captain Roghetti has been fairly good about it. But it’ll take time. Unless you can come up with something better I can commandeer?”

“I am aware of the difficulties of our situation, Commander,”
Ia admitted.
“Give me a moment to check the timestreams.”

Aside from the pattering of the rain and the crunching of her boots as she walked along the gravel-paved access road leading away from the substation, there was nothing but her voice and his to break the quiet of the night. Off in the far distance, small flashes of orange and reddish light lit up pockets of the horizon, a reminder that this colony world was busy battling a ruthless, hungry enemy. But that was dozens of kilometers away. Turning most of her attention inward, down and around, she flipped her attention onto the timeplains.

Telepathy wasn’t her strongest psychic gift. Precognition was. The local timestreams were just that: a visualization of rivulets and creeks crossing a vast, grassy prairie. Each stream represented a life, and wherever they touched and crossed lay a nexus of interactions rich with possibilities and rife with probabilities.

Dabin—or at least the local corner of this world—was a particularly muddy world, both literally and temporally. There were many things the enemy could do to block them from leaving, and many things they could do to counteract their foe. But there were other enemies, too: arrogance, fear, and apathy among them. Those were doing their own work, clouding the waters, fogging the probabilities. Such factors weakened the overall war effort by eating away at the hearts of the men and women struggling to fight back a strong enemy presence on this heavy-gravitied world.

“. . . Contact Lieutenant Frederich. He has a ground car that can come pick me up. Tell him we’ll swing by the liquor store, my treat, so he can call it an official beer run if his commander asks,”
Ia added.

Meyun chuckled.
“This from a woman who doesn’t drink.”

“Alcohol ruins my self-control faster than sex,”
she quipped back.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop others from having fun.”

“Sex and alcohol? Does this mean I get to call it a date when I come pick you up?”
he asked, humor still warming his tone.

“He’ll insist on driving the car himself,”
Ia warned her second-in-command.
“So unless you want the lieutenant to watch . . . ?”

“
Shakk
that. But I will take a rain check.”

Squinting up at the clouds as the droplets started coming down in greater numbers, Ia sighed.
“You would have to mention the ‘R’ word . . . Bring a thermal blanket and some towels so I can dry off on the ride back. I’ll keep my unit active, so you can trace my position. And don’t dawdle, Commander.”

“Aye aye, sir. Harper out.”

Tapping the buttons that would keep a subchannel linked between their units, Ia closed the lid. She kept walking, not having anything better to do. Examining the timestreams as she headed west, Ia peered both upstream into the past as well as downstream into the future. Her stomach rumbled with hunger, threatening to distract her, and the rain only made her thirsty. Electricity from the town’s power grid had fed her in her other form, but it did nothing for her as a matter-based Human.