Billions of years before, a star much like the one humans called Sol had formed, nuclear fires igniting to warm a bevy of planets, asteroids, and comets orbiting its mass. Millions of years ago, the star, its fuel dwindling, had gone nova, hurling its outer layers into space and ravaging the worlds that had once orbited it. No longer a nuclear furnace, the star still glowed with bright white light created by the heat of its collapse into a sphere the size of a world like Earth. Over the course of another billion years, the star would expend that heat and gradually cool.
Humanity arrived, in ships that needed the mass of stars to create jump points allowing those ships to cross light years of distance in a few weeks. The star was given a name, Jatayu, but with only a few battered rocks still circling it, humans went onward to other stars that still warmed worlds where men and women could find new homes. Jatayu was nothing but a waypoint, a place the ships of humans had to go through to get to places they wanted to go.
But one day some humans came to stay. They brought a small outpost that they placed in orbit about the white dwarf star and claimed ownership of Jatayu.
Billions of years after its birth, war followed humanity to the small, bright star.
“Leaving jump space at Jatayu in five . . . four . . . three . . .”
Commodore Erik Hopkins, formerly of Earth Fleet, braced himself for the familiar disorientation and dizziness that accompanied a drop out of jump space. He wasn’t otherwise worried. Freedom of Space Navigation Operation. There was a checklist for that, and every item had been checked off. The destroyer Claymore, originally known as the Garibaldi when she was part of Earth Fleet, was at Standard Alert Condition Two, just as mandated by the checklist. The freighter they were escorting would come out of jump space behind Claymore, and they would proceed through Jatayu Star System, breaking the unofficial blockade of Glenlyon Star System. It had all been planned out.
Scatha Star System had claimed control of Jatayu, a claim without legal merit but one that Scatha might try to enforce against any unescorted freighter. With other star systems within reach of Glenlyon either claimed or controlled by Scatha, or by its partners in strong-arming their neighbors, Apulu Star System and Turan Star System, trade between Glenlyon and the rest of human space had been choked off. Glenlyon faced the alternatives of either fighting or submission, but, unwilling to make that stark choice, had instead decided on trying to call what it hoped was a bluff by Scatha.
Which was where Claymore and Commodore Hopkins came in. He wasn’t worried about the outcome. Earth Fleet had had a checklist for everything, and checklists for the checklists. That was how Earth Fleet got things done, and Commodore Hopkins had risen to rank by making sure he adhered to those checklists. There wasn’t much left of Earth Fleet anymore, mainly the men and women still tasked with decommissioning the last remaining warships, archiving the remaining data and records, and preparing to turn out the last lights and lock the last doors. Hopkins himself, along with the great majority of the crew and the Claymore herself, had been declared surplus years ago and been forced to find new employment out among the new worlds being rapidly settled far from Earth. Glenlyon had been a decent place to work with, but Hopkins and most of the crew still thought of themselves as being from Earth rather than their new home, and Hopkins still ran everything by the rules that Earth Fleet had once lived by.
As the destroyer left jump the formless, bland gray of jump space vanished from the displays on Claymore’s bridge, suddenly replaced by the familiar star-spangled black of normal space. One of those white dots was the star Jatayu itself, only a speck from the jump point five light hours away where Claymore had arrived. Velocity couldn’t be measured in jump space, but back in normal space Claymore was only traveling at point zero two light speed, a crawl for a warship, because of the need to stay close to the plodding freighter she was escorting.
Dizzy from the drop out of jump space, Hopkins was still trying to focus on the display before his command seat when Claymore shuddered, then jolted as if a giant had slammed a hammer against her hull. Alarms blared throughout the ship.
“Situation!” ordered Captain Kanda Shade, commanding officer of the Claymore, as she also tried to shake off the disorientation.
“We’re under attack!” the weapons watch officer reported. “Two opponents. Tentative ID—”
Claymore jerked again, hard. More alarms sounded.
“Shield failure amidships! Hull breaches in two compartments!”
Hopkins finally forced his eyes into focus, staring at his display. There were the two attackers, who must have been waiting at the jump exit for Claymore. And right behind Claymore was the freighter Bruce Monroe, having just left jump space as well.
“Attackers are a Sword Class destroyer and a Founders Class destroyer.”
Hopkins opened his mouth to issue an order but hesitated.
The relevant checklists had automatically appeared on his display. When Attacked By Superior Numbers, the first item demanded “Accelerate at Full.” But the list for Freedom of Navigation Operations had a block for “Maintain Close Escort of Freighter(s).” One list demanded that he order Claymore to accelerate at full, but the other demanded that he stay close to the Bruce Monroe.
Claymore jerked again.
“Another hit amidships! We’ve lost Particle Cannon One!”
“Shields at full!” Commander Shade ordered from her own checklist. “Main propulsion—” She paused, staring at her display where the other two checklists offered the same incompatible choices. “Commodore?”
Hopkins shook his head, wracked by indecision. “I don’t— We can’t—”
Two more jolts. “Main propulsion down by thirty percent! Shields have collapsed!”
The Commodore frowned at his display. Follow the checklists. He knew he had to follow the checklists. “We have to . . .” He looked helplessly at Shade. “Captain . . . ?”
Shade shook her head, baffled. “We’re supposed to . . .”
Claymore groaned and shook as more blows landed. The lights went out, replaced by the dimmer glow of emergency lanterns. “Grapeshot launchers disabled. Particle Cannon Two destroyed! Serious structural damage amidships!”
“Orders, sir?” another watch stander pleaded.
Hopkins hesitated.
Shade tried to read through both checklists again.
A shudder ran through Claymore, followed by a deep boom that rattled through the ship as she broke in two.
Hopkins felt an overwhelming sense of relief as a new checklist appeared on the emergency display that had replaced his usual one. He knew what to do. It was right there, item one on the list. “Abandon ship!”
He was still running down Preparatory-to-Abandoning-Ship items on the list when a barrage of grapeshot struck and tore through the bridge of the wreck that had once been a destroyer.
Rob Geary, Senior Dock Officer for the orbital shipyard and station that was Glenlyon’s main link with space, glared at the image of Council Member Leigh Camagan on his desk display. “The government really expects me to step up again?”
“Yes,” she replied. “You came through for Glenlyon three years ago, Rob.”
“What do they think I can do? Claymore was totally destroyed, I’m told, half her crew dead. I sent Hopkins a message before Claymore left, warning him that it had taken him so long to prepare for that mission that Scatha had to have plenty of advance warning. Everyone on this station seemed to know about it.” Rob paused, miserable as he thought of the dead. “I wish either I’d been wrong, or Hopkins had listened. Why has Saber remained in orbit here?”
Camagan made a face. “Commander Teosig was ordered out but kept finding reasons to delay. He was fired this morning.”
“He should have been fired at least a year ago! I had to work with that guy whenever Saber was in dock for refit. All he cared about was looking good to Commodore Hopkins, so he’d do his best to avoid actually doing anything that might mar his reputation. I told you all about that!”
“Yes, you did,” Leigh Camagan agreed, exasperated. “And I told the rest of the council, who deferred to Commodore Hopkins, who as you say thought Commander Teosig was a perfect commanding officer. Why are you venting on me? Because I was chosen to ask you to return to service?”
Rob paused, angry with himself and with the universe. “I’m sorry. What is it the government wants me to do?” he asked again.
“Assume command of Saber and all fleet assets to defend Glenlyon.”
“Saber is the only fleet asset left! Are they offering me a temporary, unofficial rank of lieutenant again?”
“Commander,” Camagan replied. “Official rank of commander. And status as Commodore in charge of all fleet assets.”
“They must really be scared.”
“They are. Glenlyon is being choked to death by the grip that Scatha and Apulu and Turan have established over the trade routes out here. If we can’t find a way to break through, Glenlyon will have no choice but to submit.”
“Submit?”
Camagan’s glare wasn’t aimed at Rob this time. “What they did at Hesta. A so-called trade office that effectively ended up controlling not just trade but also the government.”
“We came out here to be free,” Rob said, feeling bleak.
“A lot of people did. But it has become obvious that others came out here to start building empires.”
“What about Mele Darcy?” He owed Mele that concern after what she had done three years ago to defeat Scatha on the ground.
“We need her, too. I pushed through a vote to finally create a small Marine force to assist the fleet. Mele Darcy is being offered command of that force. It’s only a Marine captain’s rank, but it’s official.”
“Who will the Marines work for?” Rob asked, remembering some stories he had heard about the ground forces commander.
“They’ll work for you. They’ll be part of the fleet. You’ll be in charge of Mele Darcy. I’m not sure anyone else would take that particular job.”
“I need to talk to Ninja before I agree to anything.”
“Of course.” Leigh Camagan sighed. “Give your wife Lyn my best.”
“You know Lyn is fine with you calling her Ninja. All of her friends call her that.”
“I imagine that Ninja won’t be feeling too friendly toward me because of this. I hope she doesn’t decide to hack all of my personal data.”
The walk through the orbital station to his home was short, one of the perks of being Senior Dock Officer. Usually he was happy about that, but today Rob wished he had more time to think before reaching the door to his quarters. In addition to his own name a small sign advertised Ninja IT Consulting.
Ninja, as usual, was seated before several displays as she worked. “Hey,” Rob said, sitting down beside her.
“Hey, yourself.” Ninja gave him a sharp look. “Don’t bother summarizing your talk with Camagan.”
“You listened in?”
“When the governing council makes a high priority call to my husband, I think I deserve to know what’s going on.”
“That call was secure. Triple encrypted,” Rob pointed out.
“Oh, Rob, how many times have we gone over the secure thing? It’s a myth.” Ninja looked away, as if focusing on one of the displays to the other side of her. “So, you’re going.”
“I said I needed to talk to you before I decided.”
“Nice words. You and I both know what you want to do.”
“What I think I have to do,” Rob said. He looked toward the door to the second bedroom. “Is Little Ninja asleep?” Even though their toddler daughter’s name was Dani, she’d refused to answer to anything but Little Ninja ever since Mele Darcy had called her that about six months ago.
“Yeah. What, are you feeling a bit guilty for abandoning your family?”
“Ninja—”
“No!” She turned a furious gaze on him, a dark memory vivid in her eyes. “I’ve never been able to forget how I felt when everyone thought you’d died on Squall. Do you know how that felt, Rob?”
“No,” he admitted, unable to meet her eyes.
“So who’d tell Little Ninja if her daddy never comes home, huh? And her Aunt Mele if something happens to her? You know how much Little Ninja loves her Aunt Mele. But that’d be my job, too, wouldn’t it? And our next project?” She tapped her abdomen, where the two months of pregnancy barely showed. “Who tells that kid he’ll never see his father? Is that going to be my job, too?”
He knew what was driving her anger. She was afraid for him, afraid for what might happen to him and to her and their children. She needed to vent that fear, to let him know how it was affecting her. And she was doubtless also angry that fate had once more put them in a position where she had to nurse such fears.
And having let him know, she’d probably never bring it up again. Because she knew the pressure he was under, that he’d need her support, and that arguing with fate was worse than useless.
What right did he have to put her through that? Rob bit his lip, trying to come up with words, and finally looked up at her again. “Ninja, I’d decided I should go because you, and those kids, deserved a free world to live in. I really don’t want to leave. If it would hurt you that much—”
“Oh, shut up, Rob! You and I both know you have to go! Because that’s the idealistic idiot that I was stupid enough to fall in love with and marry! And our kids will probably inherit your sense of duty and idealism so someday I’ll have to see them off on some harebrained noble missions, too! And it’ll be your fault! But you had better come back again, do you hear me? You come back, or I swear I will tell these kids that you were a fool and they should never be anything like you!”
He looked at her helplessly. “What is it you want?”
Ninja shook her head. “You figure that out for yourself.”
“Do you think I want to do this?” Rob demanded. “Leave you and Little Ninja? Go out there and . . . watch men and women die because of orders I gave? Do you think I want to do that again?”
She looked at him without saying anything for a few moments. “You say their names sometimes when you’re asleep. Did you know that? The names of the ones who didn’t come back. I hear you say those names, and I don’t know what to do.” She reached out and embraced him, her arms gripping him tightly. “And then I think of Kosatka, and how many people would have died there if you weren’t such an idiot. And how you got most of the crew of Squall home when it seemed hopeless. And here at Glenlyon, where Scatha would probably have been running everything by now. People like you and Mele go out and do things like this because you think you have to, and people like me and Little Ninja just hope and pray you come back each time.”
“It really is about you,” Rob whispered in her ear. “I can’t let you down.”
“I know.” Ninja pulled back and looked in his eyes, smiling sadly at him. “The first time we met, you were the lieutenant in Alfar’s fleet reviewing my case, and I was just some sailor who was being pushed out the door. And I realized you actually cared. I wasn’t anybody to you, and the brass wanted me gone, but you wanted to be sure I got a fair shake. And I thought, if he’s like that with someone he doesn’t even know, what’s he like with someone he cares about? I knew what I was getting. I wanted what I got. Usually that’s great. Sometimes, like now, it hurts.”
“I’ll tell the council no if that’s what you want.”
She shook her head. “What I wanted was Rob Geary. I got Rob Geary. For better and for worse. I’m going to be mad, I’m going to be real unhappy, but I know why you’re going. Do you know that guy Ferrer who works in station IT?”
“No,” Rob said, puzzled by the apparent change in topic.
“His girl was on the Claymore. They were going to get married. Right now she’s listed as missing.” Ninja put her palms on either side of Rob’s head, holding it so he had to look back at her. “Go out there and make sure there aren’t a lot more people like Ferrer and his girl. You can do that. Beat the scum who destroyed the Claymore and don’t lose too many of our own doing it. Bring back alive as many of our own as you can. And remember that we need you. Make sure you come back.”
“I will.”
“And Mele. Bring her back, too. That girl is crazy.”
“She’s a Marine.”
“That’s what I said.”
The official workday on the orbital station had ended. Mele Darcy lounged back in one of the comfy chairs at her favorite bar, half-facing the floor-to-ceiling virtual window that offered a stunning view of the planet down below. As commander of the orbital station’s security force Mele encouraged the members of the small police force to wear their uniforms when visiting places like bars. That way they could discourage troublemakers while enjoying themselves. Not being the type to ask one of her people to do something that she wouldn’t do, Mele was both wearing her security captain uniform and enjoying herself.
Knocking back a shot, Mele nodded to Rob Geary as he walked up to her. “Have a seat, space squid. I hear you talked to Leigh Camagan, too. Are you a commander now?”
“It takes effect tomorrow,” Rob said, sitting down and waving off an attentive server bot. “How about you?”
She paused to consider the question, remembering the events of three years before. Remembering the risks she had run and those who hadn’t made it. “Still making up my mind.”
“You’d get to be a Marine again.”
Mele eyed him. “I never stopped being a Marine.”
He looked properly abashed. But then Rob Geary was always so earnest. “Sorry.”
“Yeah,” Mele said, easing up on him, “it’s like a permanent condition. No known cure.” She examined the empty shot glass in her hand, then grinned at Rob, knowing that others found that expression on her both captivating and alarming. “I heard if I accepted the deal my new boss would be a real hard case.”
“Yeah,” Rob said. “He must be pretty dumb, too, to agree to be your boss.”
“I’m not that bad. Unless people give me a reason to be.” Unfortunately, that also conjured up memories of three years ago. Mele leaned forward, dropping her outward lack of concern, her expression suddenly intent. “I’ve done all right running the security force up here. Steady work, nobody looking over my shoulder as long as I do my job right, not too big a chance of getting killed.”
“Me, too.”
“How mad was Ninja?”
“Pretty mad.”
“You and Ninja and your little girl are the closest thing I have to family out here,” Mele told him. “Just in case you didn’t realize that.”
He looked away, obviously unhappy.
“You must have given Ninja a reason, Rob,” Mele said. “Give me a reason.”
He paused to think, looking out the virtual window that offered a view of night creeping steadily across the oceans and continents below. “They need us.”
Mele snorted, letting her exasperation show. “Last time they needed us they got rid of us as soon as they didn’t need us anymore.”
“I don’t mean the government. I mean Glenlyon. I mean people like Ninja and my little girl. Mele, you know what this place will be like if Scatha moves in and takes over.”
“Yeah.” Mele grimaced. “But I didn’t like sticking my neck out, giving my all, then being kicked in the butt by the people whose butts I’d saved.”
“I can’t give you any other reasons,” Rob said, his eyes on her.
“What, no appeals to my honor?” Mele asked, looking around for the drink bot. “No promises of fame and glory?”
“Sorry, no.”
She sighed. “Fortunately for you, I gave up on fame and glory during boot camp. There are only two reasons I’m considering taking their offer. One is because I don’t want Ninja to be a widow, which means you need someone with restraint and common sense nearby when things get crazy.”
“Are we talking about you?” Rob asked. “Because I thought you said restraint and common sense.”
Mele grinned at him again. “That’s the other reason. Because I know I’ll be working for somebody who isn’t an idiot.”
“At the moment, Ninja might not agree with you on whether or not I’m an idiot,” Rob admitted.
“It can’t be easy on her.” Mele shook her head, looking down toward the planet. “Do you really think you can bring around those Earth Fleet stiffs?”
“Danielle Martel told me that any Earth Fleet officers I encountered would be very skilled and good at what they do. She also told me they’d be unable to function without their checklists. She was right on both counts.”
“What are you going to do?” Mele asked, finally tagging the serve bot. “You want anything?”
“I’m good,” Rob said, as Mele dialed up another shot. “What am I going to do? First off, delete the checklists.”
She couldn’t help laughing. “Make them think? What kind of monster are you?”
“The kind that wants us to win and those Earth Fleet sailors to survive,” Rob said.
Mele nodded, nursing her shot. “You’ll still only have one ship. No way that’ll be enough.”
“We’ll need friends,” Rob agreed. “Hopefully we still have a few.”
“Kosatka still owes you,” Mele said, but couldn’t resist adding more. “That’s probably one of the reasons the government wanted you back so bad.”
“Probably. I also need Marines.”
“People in trouble often do.” She smiled, toasting him with the shot. Mele downed it, sighing with satisfaction at the warm sensation of the liquor hitting her stomach.
Rob finally smiled back at her. “Do you think you can whip up a Marine force for me overnight?”
“Miracles usually take about a week,” Mele replied, giving him a serious look. “It’ll depend on what kind of warm bodies I get. According to Camagan, the government is ordering Colonel Menziwa to provide me with twenty volunteers from the ground forces regiment. Guess how Colonel Menziwa is going to feel about that?”
“Mad as hell?”
“Probably. I don’t know if you’ve worked with Menziwa, but I’ve dealt with her a couple of times when her boys and girls got into trouble up here. She’s not the warm and fuzzy type.”
“So what are you going to do?” Rob asked. “I have no idea how much time we have before Scatha or their pals show up here.”
Mele shook her head, trying to decide on a third shot or not. “We’ve got time. The wise general sees to it that his troops feed on the enemy.”
“What?”
“That’s a quote from an Old Earth guy named Sun Tzu,” she explained. “He also said that the best policy in war is to take a state intact. That’s what Scatha and their friends are doing. Like at Hesta. Take over without a fight so everything is undamaged.” Mele jogged her head in the general direction of where Saber orbited. “They don’t want to destroy Saber. They want her in one piece, ready to add to their own forces. All of which means Scatha won’t be showing up with another invasion force. Not right away, anyhow. They want to see if we’ll fold like Hesta did. That’s why they let the Bruce Monroe bring back the survivors from the Claymore, to scare us into submission. Otherwise, why wasn’t our first news about what happened at Jatayu the surprise arrival of an invasion force?”
“Damn,” Rob said, nodding. “Maybe you should be the one in charge.”
“I’m not stupid enough to want that job,” Mele told him.
He paused, looking around the quiet bar where worried-looking men and women sat morosely facing each other. “But we may not have that much time. Scatha’s plan may work. People are scared. We have to give them a reason to think this world can hold out.” He paused again. “But the longer we do hold out, the higher the odds that Scatha and its friends will attack.”
Mele, who had been looking about for the server bot again, focused back on Geary. “Because?”
“Because they don’t want Glenlyon being a successful holdout, an example to every other star system that fighting back can work. At some point, they’ll decide we need to be made into a different kind of example, a cautionary one of what happens to star systems that don’t submit.”
She nodded. “Good point. Yeah, if we inspire opposition, sooner or later Scatha and their pals will come in and start breaking things to cow anyone thinking about doing the same thing. So, we’ve got time, but maybe not a whole lot of time.”
“We?” Rob asked. “Does that mean you’re in?”
Mele frowned at her empty shot glass. “I need one more drink before I say yes. Don’t go taking that the wrong way, squid.”
“Ninja wouldn’t like it if I did.” Rob laughed. “We’re both likely to get screwed anyway before this is over.”
“But not in a good way.” Mele sketched a salute toward Rob, wondering how much she’d end up regretting what she was about to say. “All right. You’ve got yourself a Marine. I’ll call Camagan to tell her and go see Menziwa tomorrow about the warm bodies we’ve been promised.”
“I’ll need you in the morning if you can put off your visit to Menziwa until the afternoon. What are your plans if Colonel Menziwa won’t deliver?” Rob asked.
“I’ll tell her to talk to my boss.”
He shook his head at her. “Thanks.”
“But, seriously,” Mele added, hoisting her third shot and looking through the amber liquid. “I don’t think there’s much chance Kosatka will come through for us because they’re tied up with trouble at home. My old buddy from the Battle of Vestri, Lochan Nakamura, is still there, and the occasional messages I get from him say Kosatka’s problems are getting worse. Who was that girl Lochan was hanging around with? The one who came out from Old Earth? Carmen . . . Ochoa.” Mele downed the shot. “Tough girl, according to Lochan. I hope they’re both okay.”
Shadowy figures flitted along the edge of the spaceport terminal, some in battle armor and some only wearing chameleon camouflage fatigues but all bearing weapons.
Not wanting to be spotted by those others, Carmen Ochoa advanced cautiously through the layers of ornamental planters that offered the best cover along this part of the spaceport. Her own cammies helped conceal her, but Carmen had long ago learned to take nothing for granted. People who made assumptions like that didn’t last long on Mars. Her rifle, a high-powered model with a large scope, wouldn’t be much good in a close-in fight.
She’d made it off Mars and ended up on Kosatka. So far it hadn’t exactly been a happily-ever-after thing.
Four years ago automated construction equipment had begun pouring the foundations and erecting the buildings that would someday be a city named Ani, the third city on the planet, preparing for an expected flow of new settlers. Three years ago she and Lochan Nakamura had reached Kosatka, he looking for a new start and she hoping to do something worthwhile in hopes that other worlds wouldn’t end up like Mars had. He’d become a diplomat for the government. She had struggled to make a difference as a civilian, but eventually fell back on the skills learned while surviving Mars.
Those skills had been needed because two years ago the occasional acts of terrorism that were plaguing Kosatka had suddenly expanded into a low-level insurgency, and last year the low-level insurgency had become a small-scale war. Ani, its new downtown and spaceport gleaming with the sterile and pristine shine of structures awaiting their first use, had become a no-man’s-land as the rebels declared it their capital and Kosatka fought to regain control.
Carmen paused, crouched behind a retaining wall, scanning the area ahead for the platoon commanded by Lieutenant Dominic Desjani. Three years ago, Desjani had been a public security officer, and Kosatka’s army had consisted primarily of organizational charts prepared for a militia that few expected would ever have to be fleshed out. Today, he was out there somewhere in front of her, in charge of a group of hastily trained soldiers helping to defend the spaceport.
Carmen finally spotted him and his platoon, crouched behind one row of heavy planters. The contrast between the soaring, shining spires of the spaceport buildings and Desjani’s dirty, battered group of soldiers felt unreal.
She called out. “Friendly!” Having announced her arrival to prevent any jittery soldiers from firing at her, Carmen, bent over to stay low so she wouldn’t be visible to enemy soldiers, ran toward Dominic. She eased up close to him, carefully observing the advancing rebels through the scope of her rifle. “We need prisoners,” Carmen whispered.
“Why are you on the front line again?” Desjani whispered back, anger in his voice.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if a certain cop hadn’t decided he needed to be a hero,” Carmen replied, feeling a rush of affection mixed with worry. “You could be fairly safe back in Drava, you know, maybe directing traffic in that city instead of being on the front here in Ani.”
Her jab must have gone home because Dominic changed the subject. “Where’s our aerospace support?”
“Ask your commander. I’m just a volunteer intelligence officer, remember?”
Desjani glanced at the weapon in Carmen’s hands. “So that’s an intelligence collection device?”
“Contrary to the old saying, dead men do tell tales,” Carmen told him. “I’d prefer some live ones, though.”
“You may get your wish very soon,” Desjani said.
Carmen saw the figures of more so-called rebels appear, advancing in individual rushes among the waist-high barriers once intended to channel traffic approaching the spaceport terminal. Their chameleon camouflage was trying to match the metallic gleam of the road barriers, which made them stand out against the glass of the spaceport’s main entry behind the rebels.
She waited as Dominic took aim, calling out to his soldiers in a low voice. “Steady, boys and girls. Pick your targets.” He fired, the rest of his soldiers opening up, some of the rebels jerking at the impacts of hits and falling. Behind them, panels of glass hit by some of the shots shattered into shards that fell gleaming to the ground, the chiming of the broken glass lost amid the boom of gunfire.
Most of the rebels dropped behind the cover provided by the barriers, but one in battle armor stood, solid projectiles bouncing off, a hit from an energy weapon causing a section of armor surface to vaporize but not penetrating as the rebel fired back.
Carmen leveled her rifle, sighting carefully, the autosight zooming in on the face shield of the rebel in armor. Her rifle barked, and a moment later the face shield shattered.
As that rebel dropped, she heard Dominic Desjani calling out, “On the left! They’re also coming up through that office access!”
Shots slammed into the heavy ornamental planters that Carmen, Dominic, and his soldiers were using as cover. Even though the flowers and bushes once intended for them had never been planted, the soil, once hopefully loaded into the planters, helped protect against enemy fire, while the weeds growing where carefully tended vegetation had been planned for helped mask sight of the defenders.
As the rebel force on the left pushed against Dominic’s platoon, the whine of turbines announced the arrival of help. Carmen saw the manta shape of an aerospace craft glide overhead, pumping out shots that riddled and blew apart the road barriers where the first rebel force was taking cover. She sighted through her scope, recording the action for uploading to the intelligence office back at the capital city, Lodz.
Her elation was short-lived, as two missiles leapt up from different places along the rebel-held side of the spaceport. The aerospace craft began hurling out flares, chaff, and other countermeasures as the missiles each split into a dozen submunitions, all weaving through the air toward their target.
The countermeasures threw off most of the submunitions, but one got through, exploding and tearing a hole in one wing of the aerospace craft. “Cover him!” Dominic yelled to his platoon, firing to keep the rebels from targeting the wounded warbird as it staggered away, the pilot fighting to maintain control. Shots erupted all over the spaceport area as the rebels tried to down the fleeing aerospace craft and the defenders did their best to force the rebels to seek cover.
“When did the rebels get shoulder-fired Snipes?” Dominic shouted at Carmen. “That’s the first time I’ve seen them used!”
“Me, too,” she said, one eye on her scope as she continued recording the activity. “We didn’t get any reports that the rebel forces had acquired those missiles. At least this will be proof the enemy has Snipes.”
“They’ve got better, newer equipment than we do,” Dominic complained as the warbird wobbled past overhead on its way back to the “temporary” forward air support base that had already been in use for five months. “What’s it going to take to convince other star systems that these fake ‘rebels’ are an invasion being bankrolled by worlds like Apulu?”
“Those other star systems know what’s happening,” Carmen told him. “They’re still too scared of becoming targets themselves. I hope Lochan Nakamura can talk some sense into them. I know he’s trying.”
Dominic shook his head. “What about Glenlyon? Weren’t they going to send us something?”
Carmen shook her head slightly, her eye sighting through the scope toward the rebel positions. “If what I’ve heard is true, Glenlyon is going to have its hands full trying to defend itself. Star systems like Apulu, Scatha, and Turan are putting pressure on new human colonies all over this region of space. Damn,” she added as a red warning symbol appeared on her scope. “The rebel jamming is too strong here. I need to get back so I can upload my scope video of those Snipes being used.”
“It’s funny how often your intelligence collection trips to the front happen to end up where I am.”
“That is a strange coincidence, isn’t it?” Carmen said, smiling at him for a moment.
His look back at her stayed serious. “You know, Carmen, you could always marry me and make the whole thing official.”
“Why would a cop want to marry a Red?”
“He got to know her,” Dominic said. “I know it’s insane, but I don’t want to give up hope that there’s a good tomorrow for this world and this star system. And maybe even for you and me.”
Carmen looked at him for a moment, her thoughts whirling inside her, before shrugging. “Hope got me off Mars when a good future seemed impossible for me. Maybe I’ll take you up on that marriage thing.”
“I hope you don’t wait too much longer,” Dominic said as a rebel shot rocked the planter they were hiding behind. “You never know what’ll happen.”
“I learned that when I was very young,” Carmen said. Their conversation was interrupted as mortars thumped somewhere off to the left, hurling their deadly projectiles into the sky to bumble down onto defenders supposedly safe behind improvised barricades. “Indirect fire incoming,” a voice warned over Carmen’s headset.
Other mortars whomped well behind Carmen as her own side fired back at the rebel mortars. Hopefully the counter-battery fire would destroy the enemy artillery, but more likely the rebel mortars were already on vehicles, moving away from where they had launched their barrage. The duel might go on for hours, the rebels trying to wear down the defenders, and the defenders trying to knock out the rebel weapons.
Dominic looked to either side at his platoon. “Everyone shift positions one hundred meters to the right. They have too good an idea of where we are and might drop mortar rounds here. Stay under cover as you move.”
Carmen stayed with him as they scuttled to new positions. She watched as he slid behind another planter, this one filled with weeds crowned by small, brilliant, orange blossoms, and leveled his rifle through the stalks of vegetation, being careful not to disturb the pretty flowers. Rebel snipers would be watching for that.
She reached out to squeeze his arm. “Be careful, Domi.”
“You, too, Red.”
What was normally an insult aimed at people from Mars had somehow become an affectionate nickname between them. Carmen grinned, but the smile quickly faded as she cast a cautious glance toward the rebel positions. With a nod to Dominic she turned and headed back, staying low again to avoid exposing herself to rebel snipers.
The so-called rebels were getting more help from off-world. If Kosatka was going to defeat them, it would need help as well. But Lochan had been keeping her up to date on his diplomatic efforts, and the ugly truth was that the rebels had a lot more “friends” in other star systems than Kosatka seemed to.
Far above the fighting in Ani, Lochan Nakamura, ambassador at large for the Kosatka Star System, walked slowly toward one of the bars on the facility orbiting the world also called Kosatka. A lot of businesses were struggling under the pressure of the conflict wearing away at Kosatka, but the bars were doing all right. Bars always thrived during uncertain times.
He paused at a single display panel showing the view of the world below, where night covered most of the largest continent, home to most of Kosatka’s settlers. Patches of light marked the cities of Lodz and Drava, but the place where Ani lay was as dark as the unpopulated regions. Lochan knew that if he zoomed in enough the sparkle of gunfire and explosions might be visible amid that darkness. But otherwise the combatants let the night shadow their movements and their actions. Small portions of Ani had once shone with light in the evenings, but those had been swallowed by the darkness over six months ago.
When it came to visualizing what was happening to Kosatka, and to Glenlyon, and what had already swallowed Hesta, spreading darkness was as good a way of seeing it as any. If only he could get other star systems to understand that before the darkness reached them.
“Lochan!”
Lochan looked down the bright, almost sterile corridor of the orbital station at the woman hastening his way. Even from a distance it was easy to see the emerald-green streaks in her hair that told Lochan who she was and where she was from.
He’d noticed that in a lot of the nationalities and ethnic groups who’d come directly from Old Earth. While finding homes for themselves on new worlds, they also displayed a tendency to be almost flamboyant about the symbols and other characteristics that helped define and identify them. “We can be ourselves out here,” one had told him. “Take pride in who our ancestors were and who we are and make no apology for being that.” Lochan could understand that feeling. Even on the Old Colony world of Franklin he had felt the pressure to conform, to minimize differences so as to supposedly minimize offending and maximize being able to live in mixed groups without friction. Intended to reduce chances of more conflicts like those that had battered Old Earth throughout human history, such policies had left many people feeling suffocated.
But now they were free thanks to the new jump drives that had allowed humanity to rapidly expand into new star systems, opening world after new world to whoever could raise the money and enough fellow settlers to stake claims to planets where humans had never before walked. Free to fulfill the age-old dream of futures without limits. It was a heady feeling, Lochan knew, like the buzz from a good, stiff drink. But just as too many drinks eventually turned that buzz into a painful headache, the fixations on differences and independence were keeping people apart who needed each other if they were going to stay free. Leave me alone was a fine enough sentiment when all was well, but it had its drawbacks when your house caught on fire and there wasn’t anyone around to help put it out. If the likes of Scatha and Apulu continued to expand their control of space, this burst of freedom might turn into a brief blip in the long, troubled history of humanity.
Brigit Kelly reached him, breathing a little fast because of her quick walk, everything else about her face and voice telegraphing bad news. “I just got a dispatch from Eire that came in on the ship that jumped into the star system this morning. They’re not ready to commit.”
He nodded, trying not to let his full disappointment show. “For the same reason?”
“Yes. Lochan, my ancestors fought for freedom for their country. My people came out to Eire Star System to be free, not to be giving up our freedoms to others. It’s hard to convince my people that we need to think of such a thing less than five years after landing on a new world.”
“They wouldn’t be giving up much! It’s just a mutual defense agreement.”
“With a star system like Kosatka that’s already got internal fighting going on,” Brigit said, her voice growing sharp. “I’m trying to convince my people, Lochan! But you could give me a better case of need to work with!”
“That’s not internal fighting,” Lochan explained, wondering how many times he had said that to how many different ambassadors and representatives of various star systems. “It’s an invasion wrapped in a false flag of rebellion. If Eire won’t help Kosatka, how about Glenlyon? Have you heard?”
“No. What’s happened at Glenlyon?”
“We finally got news that one of their warships was destroyed at Jatayu trying to escort a freighter from Glenlyon through to Kosatka. The ships that did it were from Scatha.”
“That’s war. Scatha’s claimed Jatayu, but that’s not grounds for shooting.”
“Then that should convince everyone of what we’re facing and what we have to do!”
“It won’t, which you know as well as I.” Brigit looked around at the bare walls. “Remember back in the Old Colonies, and on Old Earth, where a corridor like this would be lined with virtual scenery?”
“Yeah,” Lochan said. “What’s your point?”
“We’re not back on Old Earth, or in the Old Colonies anymore, Lochan, but too many people think we still are even though so much has changed. They think if things get bad enough, Earth will step in and fix it all, the mother looking after her children.”
“Earth doesn’t even have a space fleet anymore! The mother has sent her children to the stars and turned her back on them.”
“Not quite. The mother’s selling her babies guns and ships to kill each other with. There’s money to be made, don’t you know.” Brigit sighed and nodded to Lochan. “There’s another ship heading for Eire tomorrow. I’ll try to convince my people to weigh in for Glenlyon.”
“If they don’t help Glenlyon,” Lochan said, repeating another argument used many times without much success, “then Glenlyon won’t be there to help them when they need it.”
“We know the value of friends, Lochan. My people have to be convinced that those like Glenlyon are friends worth helping, friends who won’t demand too much of us, and friends who could be counted on if we’re in need.”
Lochan nodded again, feeling tired.
How had he ended up with this apparently thankless and endlessly frustrating job after arriving at Kosatka? If he’d never met Mele Darcy on the way out from Franklin, hadn’t let her convince him that maybe he could do something positive with his life, he might be running another failing business into the ground instead of beating his head against walls trying to convince people to do what any fool could see was in their own best interests.
Mele was probably still at Glenlyon, and if he knew anything about her it was that she’d be in the forefront of any effort to defend her new home against Scatha and the other New Tyrannies trying to create empires where others had seen opportunities for freedom. Warriors like Mele fought. Lochan knew that he’d be a lousy warrior. But he could do his best to help Mele by trying to get her the allies he was sure she needed.
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” Lochan told Brigit. “I hope you can convince them. Otherwise, there may not be any friends left by the time everyone makes up their minds that they need friends.”