Long ago, on Old Earth, people must have only looked to the sky with fear during those times when thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. But humans had first learned how to fly, then how to enter space. It hadn’t taken them long to realize that weapons and soldiers could be dropped from above. Ever since, the sky and the stars had just been one more battlefield for humans to cross and contest, one more source of danger for those on the surface of a planet.
On Kosatka, the intelligence offices had been watching space, using the latest sensors available, but as impotent to do anything about the threat as primitive humans fearing the strike of lightning.
“Everybody out,” Loren Yeresh announced. “The invasion fleet will reach orbit soon. You have thirty minutes to copy any files, collect gear, and leave the building. After that a special team is going to wipe every file from the gear we have to leave, then start planting physical booby traps where they can and malware booby traps in the equipment.”
Carmen Ochoa had already prepared for what had increasingly seemed an inevitable step. She did a final update on the data coin holding the backed-up files she wanted to save. Popping the data coin out of its slot, she sealed it into one of her jacket pockets, then picked up her bag as she stood.
The situation display looked depressingly similar. The invasion fleet getting ever closer, while Saber and the remaining enemy destroyer tangled repeatedly as Glenlyon’s warship tried to stop that invasion force. But with the enemy ship able to concentrate on one opponent Saber’s efforts had mostly been frustrated.
Loren paused beside her to look at the display, his face haggard with weariness and worry. “We actually got a question from someone in the government demanding to know why Glenlyon’s ship hadn’t stopped the invasion fleet.”
“You’re kidding.” Carmen shook her head. “They don’t have any obligation to do what they’re doing. But they’re still fighting to defend us. And people are complaining about that?”
“Sure. The same people who kept finding reasons for the last few years not to sign a formal defense agreement with Glenlyon,” Loren said, his voice derisive. “I hear Glenlyon’s ship has been asked to help defend our orbital facility once the invasion gets here. Shark would be a sitting duck at the facility if she was alone, but if Glenlyon’s ship stays to help, that last enemy warship won’t be able to face both of them at once.”
“But we don’t know if Glenlyon will do that?”
“They’ve already done far more than we had any right to expect. I hope they will. Otherwise, we’ll lose Shark for certain, along with the orbital facility.”
“What do you need me to do?” Carmen asked.
“I want you to link up with one of the defensive ground units and assist them in any way you can. There’ll still be intelligence sections active with the ground forces command, and I’ll be with the high command staff, so feed those sections and me anything important you run across,” Loren said.
“One of the ground units?” Carmen asked, not believing her ears.
“Yeah.” Loren gave her a look that felt far too much like a final good-bye. “You pick the unit. I can’t officially assign you to the same place as Dominic because of the rules. Something about married people in the same combat unit. But I can leave it up to you. Try to get through this in one piece, Carmen.”
“You, too,” she said. “I’d hate to have to train another boss.”
“Don’t forget your rifle.”
“I won’t.”
Carmen said a few more good-byes and left, her rifle in one hand, a pack with all of her personal gear and as much extra ammunition as she’d been able to acquire on her back. The campaign to hold Ani against the “rebels” had been abandoned, the entirety of Kosatka’s ground forces and militia volunteers supporting them concentrating around Drava and Lodz where the enemy invasion forces were expected to land. Dominic Desjani’s company had taken up positions a few kilometers from the spaceport, hiding amid office buildings and stores that were now deserted except for the too-few defenders.
Mass transit in the city had already shut down, the controllers for the buses and trains wiped and locked to prevent the enemy from quickly making use of them. But Carmen was able to hop a ride on a military vehicle heading in the same direction that she needed to go. She sat in the back, along with a few others whose expressions were as numb as hers probably was, while the lightly armored vehicle rumbled through the nearly deserted streets of Lodz.
If the dreams of those who had built this city were to survive, many of those same dreamers might have to die. Carmen looked upward to where the invasion fleet was steadily drawing closer and thought curses at whoever had sent them here.
“Thruster group two is fully operational!”
Rob swung his gaze across his display, his mind running through a series of lightning estimates. Saber was making another attempt to get at the invasion fleet, climbing upward from the front of the enemy formation and below to hit the passenger ship. But the enemy destroyer was already coming in on a vector from one side to hit Saber’s vulnerable rear shields. It was a well-planned defensive move, taking advantage of Saber’s by-now-obvious thruster problem.
But Rob saw another chance that had suddenly appeared as thruster group two came back online. “Come down zero one degrees, come left zero zero three degrees,” he ordered. “Lieutenant Cameron, give me a refined intercept solution on that trailing freighter!”
Saber’s sudden move, impossible before all of her thrusters came back into use, threw off the enemy destroyer’s counterattack. The enemy shot past, out of range of Saber, as Rob’s warship aimed for the freighter that had already taken damage earlier from both Saber and Piranha. “Ensign Reichert, I want maximum hits on that freighter. We may not get another intercept like this.”
“Weapons targeted,” Reichert said. Like the others on the bridge, she had been up for too long, still going thanks to Up drugs that could keep people awake and mentally sharp for days on end. Afterward, those drugs exacted a price when the metabolism of those people crashed, but in the short term they could mean the difference between survival and death.
Saber whipped past the lagging freighter, whose hull already bore scars from previous hits. With a perfect, clean shot at vital areas, the destroyer pumped particle beams and grapeshot into the freighter’s bridge and engineering areas.
Cheers erupted on Saber as the freighter’s power core blew up, taking with it everything and everyone the freighter had been carrying.
“We got one,” Lieutenant Cameron said, grinning.
“Let’s hope it was carrying a lot of important stuff,” Rob said. “Give me a vector back to hit the invasion fleet again. Best target given our current vector.”
“Yes, sir. Sir, we’re about to hit fifty percent on our fuel cell reserves.”
“Very well.” Rob sat back, rubbing his eyes and hoping that the Up drugs weren’t impairing his thinking. If he let fuel get too low, he wouldn’t be able to get Saber back to Glenlyon. And there wasn’t anywhere in Kosatka that he could refuel while that enemy destroyer was still on the prowl.
“Sir, we’ve got an incoming call from Kosatka.”
The distance to the planet was only measured in a few light minutes now, making a conversation possible but also emphasizing how little time was left for Saber to stop the invasion.
First Minister Hofer of Kosatka stood in his office, his attitude that of someone about to depart. “Commodore Geary, I’m not certain if I’ll be able to speak with you again. I’ve been advised to evacuate along with what is left of the government here in the city. I . . . wanted our gratitude for your assistance to be on the official record.”
Hofer paused, a shadowy thought darkening his features. “And yet I ask one more thing of you. Shark is still helpless at our orbital facility. The invasion force hasn’t attempted to destroy our facility or damage Shark. They obviously plan on capturing both. Kosatka urgently asks if you can remain in the vicinity of our facility to help Shark. Emergency repairs are still under way. If you can hold off an attack on the facility for long enough, Shark can join you. If not . . .”
The leader of Kosatka shook his head helplessly. “Please do what you can. And when you return to Glenlyon, let them know Glenlyon will never stand alone while Kosatka remains free. May our ancestors bless your efforts. Hofer, First Minister, out.”
Rob rubbed his eyes again as the message ended, wondering what he should do.
“I hear we’re at fifty percent fuel reserves,” Vicki Shen said in a low voice nearby.
Absorbed in the message, he hadn’t heard the executive officer come onto the bridge. Rob lowered his hand and nodded to her. If anything, Shen looked a lot worse than the rest of the crew after her nonstop efforts to get the thrusters working. “How is the rest of your repair team?”
She shrugged. “Still able to work. What are you going to do?”
“What would the checklists say?” Rob wondered.
“At fifty percent? Request permission before continuing mission, and if that’s not possible break off and return to the closest refueling location.”
“Is that what you recommend?”
“No, sir. That guy,” Shen said, pointing to the symbol representing the enemy destroyer on Rob’s display, “has to be lower on fuel than we are. On the way up here, I asked our sensors for an analysis on Shark’s status, which I confirmed by some one-on-one coordination with Shark’s executive officer. If repairs continue at their current rate, and if we can buy them three more days, they should be able to get under way.”
“And then we’ll have the enemy destroyer outnumbered two to one while he’s really low on fuel,” Rob said. “It’s still a helluva risk.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can they land anybody on that facility if we’re helping Shark? If they can do that, they could capture Shark by storm along with the facility.”
“You’re asking the wrong person, sir,” Shen said.
“Yeah.” He tapped one of the internal comm circuits. “Mele, I need you on the bridge. We need some Marine input.” Rob looked at Vicki Shen again. “Before Captain Darcy gets here, I’d like to know your recommendation.”
The hesitation he saw in Vicki Shen didn’t have anything to do with her tiredness, Rob knew. This was the sort of tough decision that Earth Fleet had long ago outsourced to automated checklists. The kind of decision that Shen and the other Earth Fleet veterans aboard had been trained to avoid making.
“In your gut,” Rob asked softly, “what do you want to do?”
Shen stared at the display. “Win. Beat these guys. Avenge Claymore.”
“Then—”
“Captain, if I’m thinking with my gut, if I go with what I want to do, I may not be thinking about what I should do.”
“Fair point,” Rob said. He lowered his voice even more to ensure they weren’t overheard. “My gut keeps telling me to get back to Glenlyon, where my wife and girl are. I know why that is. I’m afraid for them. So your gut is telling you to stay and fight, and mine is telling me we’ve done all we can and should get back to the place we’re obligated to defend.”
A long moment of silence stretched between them as Rob thought through his options. “Three days. You think they can get Shark under way in three days?”
“Yes, sir,” Vicki Shen said.
“But can we be sure of holding that facility even if we stay those extra days?” Rob asked himself as much as her. “And by then our fuel reserves will certainly be less than forty percent. Can they hold that facility if we stay?”
Mele Darcy came onto the bridge, still in the lightweight battle armor she’d been wearing since before the engagement began. Even though she had surely napped at times, she couldn’t be feeling good after being inside the armor so long. “Does somebody need a Marine?” she asked Rob.
He stared at her, suddenly realizing that she could not only help answer his question but that he had a weapon he’d forgotten about. “Yeah. I need Marines. Lieutenant Cameron, how long until the next intercept?”
“Thirty-five minutes, sir. But the enemy destroyer is coming around and will meet us in thirty-three minutes.”
“Good.” Rob stood up, surprised at how unsteady he felt on his feet and wondering how long he’d been sitting. “I’m going to hold a conference with Commander Shen and Captain Darcy in my stateroom. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
It only took a couple of those minutes to explain his idea. Mele Darcy frowned, looking toward one corner of Rob’s stateroom as she thought it through before replying.
Vicki Shen spoke carefully, each word precise and well thought out. “We have time to set up the necessary maneuvers, Captain. We should be able to do what you ask.”
Mele glanced at her, then at Rob. “We can count on Shark?”
“I’ll get a commitment from them before we launch you,” Rob promised.
“Are there any soldiers already on the facility?”
“I’ll find that out, too.”
“But you know already that you can limit how many enemy shuttles reach that facility?” Mele pressed.
“Yes,” Rob said. “The enemy will be able to tie us up for a short period by threatening an attack run on Shark. But that will only give them a narrow window to get shuttles through, and only by angles of approach that are masked from us by the bulk of the facility structure.”
“Are we expected to hold the whole facility for the necessary length of time?”
“No,” Rob said. “Your job will be to keep the enemy from capturing Shark.”
Mele nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “We can trade space for time. That’s the Marine version of Relativity. Time equals space multiplied by effort. Yes, sir. We’ll keep them from getting Shark. I’m going to need schematics of that orbital facility and as much as we can find out about what’s stored up there and how many people are left on it.”
“Thank you, Captain Darcy. You may need to get most of that after you arrive at the facility.” Rob turned to Vicki Shen. “Start working out how Saber is going to handle the delivery while I call Shark’s commanding officer. We can’t stop the invasion fleet from reaching Kosatka, but this battle isn’t over yet.”
“Captain . . .” Lieutenant Commander Shen hesitated, then spoke with unnatural calm. “There’s one other thing we can do to help Shark and Kosatka. Shark’s chief engineer was killed in the ambush attack on their ship. Shark is also a Founders Class destroyer. If we provided them with a skilled, experienced chief engineer, it might make all the difference in their getting those repairs done.”
He stared at her. “You’re volunteering to transfer to Shark? Knowing that the ship might be captured?”
Shen smiled slightly. “I have confidence in Captain Darcy, sir.”
What else did he need to ask? Rob wondered. “The remaining officers aboard can handle all possible engineering situations that might occur on Saber?”
“Yes, sir. I trained them, sir.”
Rob nodded, reluctant, unsure what else to say. “Your offer to volunteer is accepted, Lieutenant Commander Shen. We’ll send you over along with Captain Darcy’s Marines.”
“Thank you, sir.” Shen pointed to Rob’s desk display. “We’re also still on an intercept run,” she reminded him.
“Yeah. I need to handle that, too.” Rob dashed back onto the bridge, reacquainting himself with the current situation with a glance at his display as he dropped into the command seat. “I want an estimate of our odds of inflicting critical damage on another freighter or the passenger ship before the invasion fleet reaches the planet.”
“We already ran it, sir,” Lieutenant Cameron said, sounding not proud of having anticipated the need for the estimate but unhappy at the results. “The odds are effectively zero. We don’t have enough time left, or enough firepower, given that the enemy destroyer is still a threat. If we persist in attacks on the invasion fleet, there’s at least an even chance that Saber will receive disabling damage.”
Rob knew he could dispute those estimates, which after all were only the result of imperfect attempts to quantify things that couldn’t really be quantified. But, after two days of trying to stop the invasion fleet single-handedly, he felt the truth of these estimates. It was only because Piranha had helped damage that one freighter, and because Saber’s sudden return to full maneuverability allowed a move the enemy hadn’t anticipated, that a single freighter had been destroyed. Other ships had taken damage, but not nearly enough to stop them. And Saber herself had narrowly avoided receiving serious damage on some of those attack runs.
Moreover, he could easily see that the current firing run would result in the enemy destroyer getting far too good a shot at Saber on the way.
“Break off this attack,” Rob ordered, feeling a burst of anger at the necessity.
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Cameron responded. “Breaking off attack. Request new vector guidance.” He sounded unhappy, resigned to the inevitable.
Everyone on the bridge looked like they felt the same way, Rob saw. He tried to inject more confidence into his voice as he gave the next command. “I want a vector to Kosatka’s orbital facility. Work up what we need to do to slow enough to drop off our six Marines, then stay close enough to the facility to protect Shark against attack and the facility itself from enemy shuttles dropping off an attack force.”
Used to having the well-trained veterans of Earth Fleet respond smoothly to orders, Rob was startled when they reacted by staring at him.
“We’re not giving up?” Ensign Reichert asked, grinning in disbelief.
“Hell, no, we’re not giving up,” Rob said. “We’re attacking along a different vector. This battle is not yet lost, and I intend to continue doing whatever we can to win it.”
Half a day later, Mele Darcy paused in one of Saber’s air locks as the destroyer continued braking, matching vectors to soon and momentarily match the orbit of Kosatka’s orbital facility. Gazing across the gap between Saber and the open construction area around Shark, the facility glowing beyond in the light of Kosatka’s star and the planet below dappled with a living world’s heraldry of white and blue and green and tan, Mele couldn’t help wondering why she’d been stupid enough to volunteer for the job of leading Glenlyon’s Marines. “I just had an epiphany,” she said to Rob Geary over the command circuit in her armor.
“How beautiful the universe is even when people are trying their best to kill each other?” he asked. “One minute to when you jump, by the way.”
“Thank you, sir. No, I realized that success in most things depends on finding people stupid enough to volunteer to try doing them but smart enough to have a chance of succeeding.”
“That’s very profound,” Rob Geary said dryly. “Hopefully, we all still occupy that sweet spot with just enough stupid and smarts. Thirty seconds.”
“Thirty seconds,” Mele called over another circuit to her five other Marines before switching back to the private one between her and Rob Geary. “My hope is to survive long enough to be promoted so I’ll be able to send other people to do jobs that I’m stupid enough to volunteer for.”
“There you go,” Rob Geary agreed. “You just have to hold off any attackers for two and a half days, Mele. Keep the invaders off Shark until then and you’ll have a safe ride off that facility.”
“Piece of cake,” she replied, trying to sound a lot more confident than she felt.
“Commander Derian is the captain of Shark. He can’t give you orders,” Rob Geary emphasized. “If Derian or someone else tries to tell you what to do, you have to refuse. And you can’t give them orders. But, as a certain Marine told me, that doesn’t prevent you from dancing together. Saber will give you all the support we can. Vicki, do your best,” Rob continued to Commander Shen. “Mele’s Marines will watch your back.”
“Piece of cake,” Vicki Shen said, echoing Mele.
“Five seconds.”
“Five seconds,” Mele repeated to her Marines, bracing herself preparatory to the leap across space. Vicki Shen braced herself at the other side of the air lock, the remaining five Marines lined up behind Mele and Commander Shen.
“Go.”
“Go!” Mele lined herself up on a relatively open area around the construction and pushed off as Saber came to a momentary complete stop relative to the orbiting facility. Both ship and facility were still moving at about seven kilometers per second as they orbited the planet, but with their motions perfectly matched they might as well have been motionless as Mele flew across the gap between them. Behind her and Shen the other Marines literally ran off the air lock, jumping into space.
Mele looked down at the planet during the brief moments between leaving Saber and reaching the facility, seeing its surface rolling past beneath her. Some people had trouble with looking outward while free flying through space, but it’d never bothered Mele. She gazed at the surface of an ocean over one thousand kilometers below her and imagined diving all that way down until the waters closed over her.
Of course, if she really did that, falling all the way unchecked and somehow avoiding being fried by the heat of moving so quickly through atmosphere, she’d hit the water so fast that it would be like striking a steel wall. The only things left to rest in the water would be tiny pieces of her.
Mele laughed at the universe that she knew wanted to kill her and everyone else in any way that it could. Because that was what the universe did. And she would fight to keep herself and others alive because that was what she did. And when the universe eventually won, because in the end it always did, she’d take a break until whatever came after, if anything. Because, whatever came after, they’d probably need Marines there.
She rolled her body to check on Lieutenant Commander Shen and the Marines, seeing Shen flying not far from her and the five Marines spaced out behind in fairly good alignment. Saber had begun accelerating again as soon as the last Marine cleared the air lock, already vanishing into the distance as the ship leapt away to become one more speck of light in a darkness filled with infinite lights.
Rolling to face forward again, Mele brought her feet to the fore and down as she reached the facility, dropping onto the platform she’d aimed for and grabbing a brace to check her motion. She used her free hand to grasp Shen’s arm and help her land as the other Marines went past, grabbing at objects, doing a decent if not great job of also landing on the facility.
“Thanks,” Vickie Shen said, her voice shaky.
“This wasn’t your first space jump, was it?” Mele asked.
“As a matter of fact, it was the second. The first and only other was during my officer training,” Shen replied, her breathing slowing to a calmer pace.
“You did pretty good,” Mele told her. “Pretty good for a space squid, that is.”
“I’ll try not to let that praise go to my head,” Shen said.
Mele straightened to look around, one hand still holding securely to the brace as Shen steadied herself and the other Marines moved closer. A couple of people in standard shipboard survival suits were headed her way. The flurry of activity around Shark’s main propulsion units had paused as Saber came by but almost immediately resumed. Despite the frantic work in that part of the dock area, the orbital facility already had an empty, abandoned feel.
“Captain Darcy?” one of the approaching sailors called over the common use circuit. “Commander Derian would like to speak with you and, um, Lieutenant Commander Ivanova.”
“I’m Darcy,” Mele replied, “but this is—”
“Ivanova,” Shen broke in. “I’ll explain.”
Since the talk with Derian had been phrased as a request rather than an order, Mele waved to her Marines to stay with her and followed the two sailors. Switching to a private command circuit, she called Shen. “Ivanova?”
“Politics,” Vickie Shen explained, sounding completely calm again. “Commander Derian can’t give an officer from Glenlyon a command authority position on Shark. But if a former Earth Fleet officer calling herself Ivanova happens to show up, he can appoint her chief engineer. Derian pretends he doesn’t know I’m Commander Shen from Glenlyon, and I pretend I’m Commander Ivanova who’s not working for anyone else at the moment so I can give real orders aboard Shark.”
“I didn’t realize Earth Fleet officers could be that devious,” Mele said admiringly.
She could hear the smile in Shen’s reply. “When you operate in a highly political environment, you learn how to get things done despite the political obstacles.”
Shark lay oddly canted in the space dock. Mele wondered at the reason for that. The forward air lock, the entire forward part of the destroyer, looked to be in great shape. The only clue as to the desperate situation lay in the frantic work aft and the grim attitudes of the sailors Mele saw.
Mele left the other Marines in the ship’s passageway as she and Shen crowded into the captain’s stateroom. Commander Derian’s quarters were identical to Rob Geary’s on Saber except for the few personal items. Derian himself had a haunted look as he welcomed them. “Captain Darcy. Thank you for, uh, assisting us. Commander . . . Ivanova. I’ve already informed the crew that you’re the new chief engineer.”
“Then I’d better get to work,” Vickie Shen said.
“You had four years as chief engineer on your ship?”
“Yes, sir. I could take every engineering system on Shark apart and put it back together with my eyes closed.” She nodded a farewell to Mele. “I know that Captain Darcy will ensure we have the time we need.”
“Thank you,” Mele said, for once not entirely comfortable with that degree of confidence in her capabilities.
“By your leave, sir,” Vickie Shen told Derian. The moment Shark’s captain nodded, Shen was out the hatch and headed aft.
Derian sighed heavily, sitting down with the weariness of someone who had been going all out for too long. “Major Brazos is in command of the forces defending inside the facility,” Derian said. “I’ve asked him to join us so you two can, uh, talk.”
She sized up Derian and felt sympathy. “It must be hard sitting here in dock.”
Derian gazed unhappily into space as if recent, unwelcome events were replaying before him. “Hard. Yes. Watching the others fight on their own. Captain Salomon . . . apparently Piranha’s bridge was destroyed. The survivors who’ve gotten off don’t think anyone in that section of the ship survived. Captain Darcy, our best-case estimate is that we can get Shark under way, patched but ready to fight, in two and a half days. With the help of Commander . . . Ivanova, I think we can meet that. But we need two and a half days.”
“We can do our best to keep the enemy from reaching this dock through the inside of the facility,” Mele warned, “but we can’t cover the outside if they attack the dock that way. It’s too much area to cover.”
Derian smiled, his lips pulled back tightly over his teeth. “Did you notice how we’re positioned in the dock? Shark can’t move right now, but our weapons work and our fire control is fine. If anyone comes over or under or around the facility toward this dock, we’ll spot them silhouetted against space and they’ll get a particle beam through them. Those beams move at nearly the speed of light. This close we don’t have to lead the target or worry about it dodging.”
Mele raised her eyebrows in admiration. “Nice. I understand your weapons are designed for bursts of fire, though, not sustained fire. How many enemy soldiers can you take out before the pulse particle beam generators overheat?”
“A lot. We can use a low power setting that can keep shooting rapid bursts for a long time,” Derian said. “Low power would be useless against the shields on a warship, but against an individual in a suit it’ll be more than enough.” He looked unhappy again, waving toward the facility. “But we can’t use that against people coming at us through the facility. Too hard to spot until they were right on top of us, then too close to be able to bring our beams to bear. If they get to this dock through the inside of the facility, we’ll face a boarding situation and my crew will have to fight them off hand to hand. We’d prefer that not happen because we lost some people in the sneak attack that damaged our propulsion. We’re already short on personnel. That’s where you and Major Brazos come in.”
“Is he a professional or one of Kosatka’s militia?” Mele asked.
“Brazos? Militia. Police experience. That’s it.”
As if summoned by the third mention of his name, Major Brazos entered the stateroom, saluting Derian before turning a wary gaze on Mele. “You’re a real Marine, huh?”
“As real as they come,” she replied, thinking that Brazos didn’t seem particularly welcoming.
His next words confirmed her assessment. “Kosatka can defend her own world,” Brazos said, as if daring her to challenge the statement.
“We were asked to help,” Mele said, trying to be diplomatic.
“Not by me. I hope you’re not planning on calling the shots here. You’re not needed.”
So much for diplomacy. Mele nodded and smiled tightly. “I’ll just ask Commodore Geary to bring Saber back to pick us up, then.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Derian interrupted, glaring at Brazos. “As senior officer on this orbital facility, I’m grateful for the assistance that Commodore Geary and his crew have provided to Kosatka. I want it clearly understood that the presence of these Marines from Glenlyon to assist our defense here is welcome. The goal for all of us is to ensure that the work on Shark is completed so we can join Saber in defeating our common enemies.”
Mele hadn’t been sure what to think of Derian, who after all had let his ship get crippled and as a result sat out the fight where Piranha had been destroyed. But Derian hadn’t hesitated to assert his authority over Brazos and had made it clear he was itching to get into the fight.
“Yes, sir,” Major Brazos said, little about him indicating the agreement expressed by the words. “We don’t know how much time we have left before the enemy attacks. With your permission, I’ll get back to preparing the defense of the facility.”
Derian didn’t let him go that easily. “I expect you to cooperate with Captain Darcy. I suggest that you listen to her advice. Marines are trained specifically for missions such as this involving ships and orbiting facilities. And Glenlyon beat back the attack on them three years ago. They must know what they’re doing.”
“Yes, sir,” Brazos repeated. “I’m not aware of whether this individual had any role in the action three years ago.”
Mele wasn’t the sort to brag on herself, but given that sort of passive-aggressive put-down she couldn’t avoid taking the shot. “I trained, organized, and commanded Glenlyon’s ground forces in the field three years ago,” she said.
Commander Derian looked visibly impressed, but Brazos didn’t do a good job of hiding his skepticism. “Sir,” he said to Derian, “if there’s nothing else . . .”
“You have your orders,” Derian said, with a look at Mele that told her clearly to let him know if she needed to have Brazos kicked in the butt.
“We’ll do what we can,” Mele said as Brazos left. “After all, you guys are our ride out of here.”
“Thank you.” Derian gestured aft. “The workers trying to get our main propulsion online again are all volunteers. They could have taken shuttles down to the comparative safety of the planet, but they chose to stay here and work. Look out for them as well, Captain Darcy. Please,” he added after a pause.
“I will,” she promised, rendering Derian a salute. “I need to look out for Commander Ivanova, too.”
Mele and her Marines caught up with Brazos as he was entering one of the air locks that gave access from the open-to-space dock area to the pressurized interior of the facility. “My biggest worry is friendly fire,” Mele said without any sort of polite preamble. “I need links into your command net so my Marines show up as friendlies and I can see where all of your people are.”
Brazos made a face, his eyes shifting toward where Shark and Commander Derian sat before he nodded. “All right.”
“Listen,” Mele added, “you don’t have to like that we’re here. But we’re on the same side.”
“Is that supposed to make me happy?” Brazos snorted in derision. “I worked law enforcement on Brahma before I came out to Kosatka. Trying to keep law and order. We had a base not far off, and I had to deal with Marines more than I ever wanted to.”
“Marines on liberty can be challenging,” Mele admitted, thinking of some of the things that she’d done as a private after having a few too many drinks. “But this is different. We’re on the job.”
“I don’t see any difference.”
“Know what?” Mele asked, her patience at an end. “I don’t care. We’re going to do our job. You do yours. How do we get access to your command net?”
Brazos glared at her as the air lock finished cycling and he pulled off his survival suit helmet. “Have your IT specialist request access from OrbitFacDefCom.” The inner hatch opened, and he stomped away without another word.
“You get that, Giddings?” Mele asked.
“Yes, Captain.” Corporal Giddings paused as he worked through the request. “Got a link. They say they need approval.”
“Tell them Major Brazos approved it.”
“Done . . . I’ve got a wait status, Captain.”
“Fine. Let’s walk around and see how things look.” Orbital facilities tended to grow over time, adding on structures and manufacturing sites and living areas and even recreational locations. Compared to the many facilities orbiting Old Colonies like Franklin, this structure at Kosatka hadn’t yet grown into a city. But it was already much bigger than a destroyer such as Saber or Shark, more like a really large factory building complex, add-ons and new structures grafted onto the original like a three-dimensional sculpture constructed of blocks sticking out and up and down. Also unlike the warships, the facility didn’t have a sleek exterior or a well-defined center of mass. As one of Mele’s training instructors back on Franklin had put it, orbital facilities were all about function. “Ugly as a junkyard dog because looks don’t matter when all you need is something that can do a job.”
Inside, the absence of its normal occupants made the emptiness feel huge, every shadow suspicious and every corner or closed door a potential hiding place for something or someone.
Mele led the way through the nearly deserted facility, their movements sounding unnaturally loud amid the silence that reigned in most parts of the station. The basic life support functions were still working, but nonessential services had already been shut down. Scattered display screens that normally would have shown art or information instead revealed only the dead black of no input. They passed bare bulkheads and ceilings, empty rooms and offices, most showing signs of hasty departure.
They reached a food court, where minor efforts had been made to dress up the functional needs of a food court to make it look slightly special rather than the same as every other food court from here back to Old Earth. A dozen men and women in a mix of industrial and survival space suits, and carrying a mix of hand weapons, were sitting at a few tables that had been pulled together. They started to rise in alarm at the arrival of the newcomers, but relaxed when Mele waved at them with an open hand. “Captain Darcy, Glenlyon Marines. We’re here to help.”
Relieved smiles replaced anxious looks as one of the men walked over to Mele. “Damn! Marines! That’s great!”
“You guys all militia?” Mele asked.
“Every defender on the station is militia,” he replied. “I mean, except you guys.”
That explained their happiness at seeing regular military personnel. Mele gestured around. “Are any of the food stands working?”
“Anything with lights on. Help yourselves if you need anything. It’s on the house.”
Grateful for the chance at food better than that served on a warship, the Marines all grabbed meals and sat down around one of the larger tables. As they did so, another group of militia came in, calling out greetings to the first group.
“How’s that access coming?” Mele asked Giddings as she eyed her pack of fries. They looked entirely too “healthy” to taste good.
“Just got in now,” he reported. “We’re getting a real basic data feed. It’s letting us ID ourselves as friendly, and showing up IDs of nearby militia like these guys. Nothing else.”
“There has to be more to their command net than that,” Mele said.
“There is,” Corporal Giddings confirmed, his eyes shifting back and forth as he scrolled through data on his pad. “I’m seeing virtual walls blocking us from other parts of their command net. They look makeshift, though. That’s probably why it took so long to get us access. They were throwing together these walls to limit what we could see.”
“Huh,” Mele said, not wanting to openly disparage Major Brazos in front of the enlisted. “Can you get through those walls, Glitch?”
“What do we need to see, Captain?”
“Where every friendly soldier is located,” Mele said. “Any detections they have of the enemy. Any fights going on. Any orders being issued by Major Brazos or anyone else.”
Corporal Cassie Gamba gave a sidelong look at the militia. “How many have they got, Captain?”
“I don’t know.”
Giddings spoke up. “Eighty. Eighty-one counting Major Brazos. I just got into that part of the command net. All militia, like that guy said.”
“Eighty.” Gamba grimaced as if she were tasting the number and not liking it. “How many hostiles?”
“It depends,” Mele said. “Saber is going to try to keep shuttles from reaching this facility to drop off troops, and Shark can hit any that come within its line of sight. But any shuttle coming in with the facility between it and Shark will be safe from that. And if the enemy warship makes a run on Shark, Saber is going to have to move to support Shark. We’re expecting that to happen. That’ll give the enemy a narrow corridor to run a few shuttles through.”
“A few shuttles?” Private Yoshida said. “They could have, what, three hundred on those?”
“Depending on the shuttle type and what kind of armor they’re wearing,” Private Lamar said. “If four shuttles make it through, the numbers they carry could range from, um, two hundred eighty to three hundred fifty.”
Mele gave Penny Lamar a questioning glance. “You’re a shuttle expert?”
“It’s a hobby, Captain,” she admitted.
“She builds shuttle models from scratch,” Private Buckland added, laughing.
“Do you have any other interests I should know about?”
Lamar paused. “No others you should know about, Captain.”
“So,” Corporal Gamba continued, “we’re talking at least a few hundred hostiles, eighty friendly militia, and us. How good are the hostiles?”
“We don’t know,” Mele said. “The ones I fought three years ago from Scatha were mercenaries hired as a unit from one of the Old Colonies. Kind of like you guys but not as professional. But we’ve had word that Scatha and Apulu, and Turan, have been hiring anyone willing to carry a gun. If we’re lucky, that’s who we’ll be facing.”
“Reds,” Yoshida offered. “I heard a lot of them are from Mars. Somebody told me there’s like hundreds of thousands of Reds who’ll do anything for a job, and they’re cheap hires.”
“Reds can be bad news if they’re gang fighters or warlord troops,” Gamba said. “Not as good as professional ground forces, but tough.”
“Got it!” Giddings announced. “We’re in the command net. No restrictions. I gave you a ghost ID so even if their system watchdogs notice you they’ll think you’re okay, Captain.”
“You’re a credit to the Marines of Glenlyon,” Mele said, running through the data now available on her pad. “Oh, yeah. And here’s the Major’s plan. Look.” She titled the pad so the others could see it. “He’s breaking his forces into squads and posting them at major intersections to stop any advance.”
“What about the ways past those intersections?” Lamar asked, eyeing the plan.
“That’s thinking like a Marine,” Mele said, nodding in approval. “The militia is trying to seal off routes, but they can’t seal off every possible path. Once aboard this facility the attackers can go up, down, right, left, and everywhere in between. They’ll either try to overrun the individual squads of defenders, which will be fast but expensive in terms of casualties, or bypass the defenders using other routes, which will take longer.”
“So what are we going to do, Captain?” Gamba asked.
“Reaction force,” Mele said. “Or fire brigade, as they used to call it, because we’re going to be putting out fires. As the enemy hits these militia forces, or bypasses them, we’ll hit the enemy. If there’s a breakthrough likely, we reinforce the militia if we can get there in time. If a breakthrough occurs, we stop it.”
“Six of us?” Buckland asked.
“That’s right,” Mele said, trying to sound confident but not insanely confident. “I’m going to personally command Team One. That’s me, Corporal Giddings, and Private Lamar. Corporal Gamba, you command Team Two, with you, Yoshida, and Buckland.”
“Major Brazos has a reaction force designated,” Gamba pointed out.
“Yeah, but that reaction force is also assigned defense of a critical intersection just short of the space dock. That’s a mistake, people. He’s going to be afraid to move that reaction force because its other job is so important.”
Buckland looked around as a burst of laughter came from one of the militia squads, the sound a little too high-pitched and forced, like people trying to appear unworried rather than people who weren’t worried. “Can they do this, Captain?”
Mele knew what the question meant. It was as simple as the way the different groups appeared to an outside observer. The militia members looked dangerous in a haphazard, chaotic way, whereas her Marines appeared dangerous in a very controlled and capable way. “They can,” Mele said, “if we show them how.”
“Captain,” Gamba said, “with all due respect—”
“I know what that really means, Corporal.”
“Uh . . . my apologies, Captain. How can we show them how to fight in the middle of a fight?”
Mele nodded to show her understanding of the reasons for that question. “I’ve done this, led volunteers against regular troops. Because that was all I had. Give them good leaders, good examples, and they can do a lot. Respect them, boys and girls,” she told her Marines. “They know they’re not good at this, but they’re facing death anyway because there’s no one else to handle the job. That takes guts. Lets help them ensure their deaths make a difference.
“Because plenty of them are going to die trying their best.”