Rage War Incursion 12

"What happened?" Marshall asked.

"Murder," the General said. He seemed to have gathered himself now, wiping openly at his eyes and then standing tall, staring Marshall in the eye. "Mass murder, in fact. Come through to my office. I'll show you."

The image in the holo frame wasn't very clear. It had been taken from seventy miles out, by a ship on its final approach to Swartwood Station 3. But it was clear enough. As the huge space station came apart in a glow of shimmering debris, Marshall realized that he was holding his breath. The footage ended, the frame clouded to its neutral form, and General Bassett slumped down in his large leather seat.

"Who would do something like this?" Marshall asked.

"Red Four?" He had personal experience of the anti W-Y terrorist group. One of his ex-subordinates was now one of the leading Four of the organization's name, a ratty, devious man whose dislike of expansionism and big business had led him to others of the same ilk, and from
there to radicalization.

"They don't have the capability-not any more--and much as I hate those fuckers, I really don't think they'd attempt something so... grotesque."

"Probably not," Marshall agreed. He glanced at the General, hesitant to verbalize his next thought.

"Accident?" he asked softly.

"Not according to a blast signature recorded by three ships within a thousand mile radius. It was a small device, probably plasma based, but planted in a position that indicates a good structural knowledge of the station. These things are built to withstand blasts, and airlock doors should have ensured the survival of as many staff as possible. But... whoever did it, they knew what they
were doing."

"How many?" Marshall asked.

"One thousand, nine hundred and thirty." Bassett shrugged. "Give or take a couple of ship's crews."

"Fucking hell."-pg.101-102 chpt.6