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“The timing is absolutely perfect.” Delgado sat back in his chair at the command post table after examining the mysterious transmission. “Thunder Bay will be FTL in interstellar space by now, meaning there will be no other legitimate starship in this system for the next fourteen days. Unless the Navy sends an unannounced patrol frigate through.”
“Or whoever they tasked to empty that bunker shows up,” Hak added. “From our side, I mean.”
“We still don’t know what’s behind these events.” Delgado tapped his fingers on the edge of the tabletop. “Are they related to the Migration War munitions or to that mysterious door at the bottom of a lift which doesn’t appear in Tyrell’s specs? We were scrambled and sent here at a speed anyone outside Special Forces can only dream of once HQ received the report from the recon droid.”
Hak shrugged. “It might be both, with the bio and chem payloads being targets of opportunity.”
“Still, that transmission means someone unauthorized entered the Keros system. My guess is that things will happen soon after one of the daily situation reports. Fleet Operations will only get nervous once Tyrell misses two in a row, which gives an intruder forty-eight hours before the alarm sounds. Any way of tracking the clandestine sender?”
Testo shook his head. “Sorry, sir. I tried, but whoever it was knew how to vanish. If the tactical AI wasn’t looking for unauthorized transmissions, no one would be the wiser.”
Hak let out an amused snort. “We may feel a little hard done by at being sent here on a few hours' notice so we can play garrison police, but can you imagine how fat, dumb, and happy a regular Marine company would be right now?”
Delgado gave his first sergeant a wry grin. “The proverbial sitting ducks. I can’t see anyone from a line regiment daring to hack a naval station’s network and spy on everything and everyone. Which, of course, is why we’re here at Admiral Talyn’s orders.”
“To stop bad guys no one but us and their advance party know are coming.” Hak chuckled. “How much of this did the Admiral suspect ahead of time, I wonder?”
“Probably more than we might think.” Delgado’s eyes returned to the view of Tyrell Station as seen from orbit on the primary display. “Any way of telling how far the transmission’s recipient might be based on the signal strength?”
Testo grimaced dubiously as he glanced at his workstation display. “The AI has been running probabilities while we were talking, and its best guess would be the system’s outer asteroid belt where an entire fleet could hide with no one in Tyrell knowing. From there, it’s about a five-hour jump at maximum in-system speed to Keros’ hyperlimit.”
“Which means we can expect visitors as soon as midday, which is a few hours after today’s sitrep transmission to HQ. Or not. But that still doesn’t tell us what’s in store.”
“Nope.” Hak shook his head. “It sure doesn’t. Will you warn HQ?”
“Not yet. We’re still working with suppositions, gut feelings, and circumstantial evidence. Besides, I won’t make the mistake of underestimating the opposition. If we send a message out of sequence with the regular sitrep, it might tip them off we uncovered more than they expected, and I’m not ready yet to trigger events. Not that HQ can help us in any case. If someone’s already on the way, they won’t arrive any faster. I’ll update the Admiral on everything during the next scheduled transmission.”
“Makes sense. What now?”
A shrug. “We wait, watch, and listen while the situation develops without giving away our state of heightened vigilance. There will be more indicators of something about to happen. And on that note, how are we doing with the new arrivals?”
“Eight of them met Hallikonnoen in the Reach last night. It could be nothing more sinister than old friends having a beer and catching up, but Rolf’s people don’t think so. Based on observed behavior, they figure she was passing out orders.”
“We’re keeping those eight under surveillance, Sergeant?”
“Absolutely, Skipper, since around twenty-two-hundred hours yesterday. And we’re still watching Hallikonnoen, Limix, Movane, and Engstrom. Which means someone else sent the subspace message.”
“Or the culprit messed with the surveillance network again.”
Testo nodded. “Sure, Top. But the AI couldn’t find any evidence of tampering around the relevant time.”
“Yet we are dealing with pros, no question about it. Sécurité Spéciale?”
“Or their zaibatsu mercenaries. Some of the corporate security and intelligence outfits are proving rather good, from what I read in the most recent intelligence digests.”
Hak scoffed. “The ones whose ass we kicked during the last few missions weren’t particularly impressive.”
“Compared to us, no. But what if a regular rifle company was here instead of one from the 1st Special Forces Regiment? Because that’s what they’re no doubt counting on.”
“Surprise, surprise, surprise.” Testo chuckled.
“My favorite principle of war, Sergeant.” A pause. “Once the last patrol comes up from the mine, we’re done underground.”
“Yes, sir.”
**
The day seemed to drag on as tension rose by increments, or so it seemed to Delgado and his first sergeant. None of the people under surveillance made a single move that was out of line. Still, many struck Erinye Company’s covert watchers — those patrolling in person and the Marines sitting in front of surveillance video feeds — as worried, preoccupied, or anxious.
Delgado did not try to speak with Engstrom or anybody else save for members of his unit. Nor did he activate any defensive measures beyond heightened vigilance. His Marines were under orders to make their activities appear normal.
However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a strange mood, an edginess that defied description, permeated Tyrell. It was as if, in some primal part of the soul, the inhabitants of the isolated station understood an ion storm would soon engulf Keros. Passing through the corridors on his way to supper with Hak, Delgado felt that he should order the crew to batten down the hatches, set the storm canvas, and rig extra tackles to the rudder.
When he mentioned his thoughts, the first sergeant gave him a curious look and chuckled.
“Rereading pre-spaceflight wet navy war books, sir?”
“I can’t spend all of my time slogging through the twisted history of the Migration Wars despite Colonel Decker’s recommended reading list, now can I.”
The Reach was as busy as usual when Delgado and Hak slipped into a darkened corner booth for an after-dinner drink. They ordered whiskeys and, while waiting for their glasses, silently scanned the crowd. Hak spotted Jannika Hallikonnoen holding court by the bar, apparently enjoying herself, unconcerned and relaxed. None of the people around her bore any resemblance to the men and women she’d met the day before.
“Do you think Rolf is right, and she’s the one?”
“How often has he been wrong, sir?”
“Rarely enough to let me sleep quietly tonight, Top.” Delgado grimaced. “The next scheduled sitrep is in twelve hours. Since nothing happened after the one sent out this morning, my gut tells me tomorrow’s the day. They’re still getting organized but won’t wait for long. If we’re right.”
“We are. I can smell trouble in the air, sir. And so can you.”
Delgado’s eyes were drawn to the pool of light at the long, crowded bar. Jannika Hallikonnoen had turned around and was staring him right in the eyes, as if unable to resist throwing a gauntlet, one she realized he must accept.
Delgado slowly raised his glass as if in salute, eyes never leaving Hallikonnoen’s broad face. The team boss replied in kind. It was a strange ceremony as if two foes suddenly decided they would acknowledge their rivalry in the best traditions of chivalry, just before dropping the gloves and fighting dirty.
“Hallikonnoen seems pretty sure of herself,” Hak remarked after watching the silent interplay.
“Let’s hope it’s because she swallowed the dezinformatsiya we seeded throughout the command post node and not because she has a fifth ace up her sleeve.” Delgado chuckled. “Unless this brief exchange was just a bit of bravado between two egomaniacs.”
**
Jannika Hallikonnoen watched the Marine officer and his first sergeant leave the Reach, presumably headed for the barracks and bed. She couldn’t quite understand what possessed her to acknowledge Delgado’s existence. If he suspected her of anything, then by returning his ironic salute, she’d pretty much confirmed those suspicions.
Not that he could do anything at this point. Her plan would unfold no matter what Delgado and his Marines tried. They simply weren’t as lethal as her action team, made up of deadliest black ops agents money could buy, even though they outnumbered her people by a wide margin. This wasn’t a battlefield for mere infantry like them but a complex, three-dimensional space where those with specialized training, no fear of death, and no rules of engagement would win. Especially after she gained control of Tyrell Station’s systems, locking most Marines in their barracks. The rest would then be taken out patrol by patrol.
She drained her vodka tonic and ordered another before engaging one of the team bosses around her in conversation, oblivious to off-duty Marines in civilian clothes sitting just beyond the dance floor.
Despite her best efforts, Hallikonnoen couldn’t know Erinye Company, Ghost Squadron, 1st Special Forces Regiment — and not H Company of the 42nd, as she believed — was ready as well. And though the Marines weren’t fanatics who’d willingly die for their cause, they were practiced at improvising as situations unfolded. But then, the Sécurité Spéciale agent wasn’t the first of her organization who underestimated them. Unfortunately for her, however, none of those who failed came back to tell a cautionary tale.