“I’m going to send a message back to the new ships, offering to coordinate Saber’s actions with theirs. Because I think that’s necessary for the defense of this star system,” Rob added, speaking loudly so he’d be overheard by others on the bridge. He wanted this decision, and his reasons, to be on the record. “At this point, the enemy warships won’t know who those four new ships are. They’ll wait to be contacted, and when that doesn’t happen they’ll send a message. Minimum time for a message to be sent and received will be about eight hours.”
Lieutenant Commander Shen nodded. “I’m guessing four hours before they send a challenge. That is, excuse me, that was the usual interval to wait for a reply in Earth Fleet. Then eight hours for messages to fly both ways at the speed of light. That’s half a day. After that . . .” She paused, thinking. “This guy we’re fighting will send another message. He has time, and will be thinking that will cover his butt if he makes a wrong decision. Another half day, maybe. It’ll be at least a day before the enemy seriously starts considering the fact that these new arrivals are not friendly. After that, the enemy reaction will depend on how long he has to run before the approaching force can intercept him on his way to a jump point out of Glenlyon.”
“We need to keep him guessing as long as possible,” Rob said. “I wonder if there’s any way to get a message to the defenders on the facility that help is here, but that won’t tip off the attackers if they intercept it?”
“Any code might be broken,” Shen said, thinking. “Unless . . . Darcy knows this Nakamura guy?”
“Yeah. She knows he’s settled on Kosatka.”
“So if she knew he was here . . .”
Rob grinned. “Yes. That’s it. Ensign Torres, give me a link to any remaining friendly receivers on the orbital facility.”
“Done, sir!”
“Major Darcy,” Rob said, “this is Commodore Geary. Nakamura says hello. Geary, out.”
CHAPTER 12
“Major?”
“Yeah, Glitch.” Darcy blinked herself awake from a catnap, hoping this wasn’t even worse news. “What’s up?”
“We’ve received a message. It was sent in the clear, but it’s some kind of code. I don’t know what it means.”
“Relay it to me.” She listened to Rob Geary’s voice.
“Nakamura says hello.”
Nakamura? As in Lochan? But he was at Kosatka.
Unless he’d arrived at Glenlyon. Why would Lochan come here?
For only one reason. He’d brought help. Good old Lochan, the guy who thought of himself as a failure at everything, but had a way of coming through when it mattered. Mele smiled with relief. “Glitch, try to get through to the other commanders. Tell them help has arrived.” Why hadn’t Rob Geary just said that? Because the enemy might not realize yet that whatever had shown up was on Glenlyon’s side? “The enemy apparently doesn’t know help for us has shown up. When they figure it out, we may see a burst of activity, either a sudden last-ditch attack or a sudden pullback. Got that?”
“Help is here,” Glitch recited, “the enemy may not know, sudden enemy activity possible when they figure it out.”
“Right. After you get that out see if you can get me a decent link to Captain Batra.”
She finally checked the “local” time on the facility, which was slaved to that of the primary (and still only) city on the planet below. 0500. Five in the morning. Mele let out a gasp of exhausted laughter. Normally 0500 would be when reveille sounded, time to get out of your bunk, hit the deck, and get ready for a new working day. This was probably the first time in several days that she’d actually woken up at about the “normal” time.
Mele moved carefully through the cramped compartment they were huddled in, the darkness barely illuminated by a nightglow setting on a small light on the side of her armored glove. The medic, Corporal Okubo, was already awake and on sentry, eyeing a sensor screen whose glow marked his face with the distorted reflections of warning symbols. Mele lightly touched each Marine still asleep. Corporal Penny Lamar and four privates. All that were left in this group after a few more encounters with enemy patrols. “Up and at ’em. It’s another glorious day in the Marines.”
“Oo-rah,” Corporal Lamar grumbled in a whisper.
Sergeant Giddings was still working on getting the message out. Mele waited until all of the other Marines left with her were awake, sitting up and yawning, bleary-eyed with fatigue that the rest period hadn’t done nearly enough to fix. “Here’s some news before breakfast. The space squids got word to me that help has arrived.” Everyone’s eyes jerked to greater alertness, sharpening their gaze on her. “I don’t know how much, or how long it’ll be before it gets here. But sooner or later those apes we’re fighting will also get the word. We need to be ready for whatever they do, and need to keep them distracted as much as we can.”
“Major?” Sergeant Giddings held up a fiber link. “I’ve got Lieutenant Paratnam. He says he needs to talk to you about Captain Batra.”
“You guys eat while I handle this.” Mele took the link and plugged it in, the green light that would mark a solid connection flickering instead of staying steady. “What’s up? Where’s Batra?”
“I haven’t been able to contact him for the last eight hours,” Paratnam said. “Not even momentary burst signals. I’m assessing that he’s . . . no longer active.”
She heard enough in Paratnam’s voice, the weariness, the anger, the stubborn determination, for an image of his haggard face to appear in her mind’s eye. “How many did Batra have with him?”
“Nine, last I knew. We’ve had no contact with any of them. According to Captain Batra’s orders, since we can’t—”
Mele waited as the comm status light flickered red, yellow, and then green again, the tiny illumination casting shades of color on the Marines huddled in the dark compartment. “Say again all after ‘Batra’s orders.’ I lost you.”
“Um . . . per Captain Batra’s orders I’m assuming command of the ground forces element.”
“Okay.” She resisted the urge to add “congratulations.” That’d be humor too dark for even a situation like this. “You got the word that help’s on the way?”
“Yes. Any details on that?” Paratnam pleaded.
“That’s what I’m trying to get. Do you have anyone able to tap into surviving navigational systems on the facility or see Saber directly?”
“Sergeant Savak’s group was close to the outer edge last I knew.”
“Try to contact her and see if she can call Saber. I need any details Savak can get about whatever help has arrived and when it’s going to get close enough to help us kill stuff.”
“Understood,” Paratnam said. “I hope it’s a lot and I hope it’s soon.”
“Agreed. Wait.” Mele looked over at Corporal Okubo, still on sentry duty, who gestured urgently at his sensor readouts.
“Company heading this way,” Okubo whispered. “We’re getting hits on movement. Estimated ten to fifteen hostiles.”
“Got it. Lieutenant Paratnam, I gotta go. I’ll try to reconnect as soon as a local threat situation is resolved. Darcy, out.” Mele looked at her Marines, who were hastily shoveling the last crumbs of food bars into the feed ports on their lower helmets and readying their weapons. “Anybody got any mines left? No? How about grenades?” Everyone shook their heads.
Ten to fifteen enemies, and she had eight counting herself. The odds weren’t too bad.
Unless the estimate was too low.
Mele rubbed her forehead, tired, very tired, of running, and feeling reluctant to avoid a fight that would help wear down the enemy a little more. But she was in command of this entire battle. Choosing to risk an engagement that didn’t have to be fought would be both reckless and irresponsible. “Glitch, Lamar, we need a new hide hole that isn’t where that patrol will find us.”
The serg
eant and the corporal huddled over Giddings’s schematics of the facility near their location while Mele conducted a count of the ammunition everyone had left. That wasn’t great, either. The last supply cache they’d tried to use had been emptied out earlier, probably by another group of defenders since the location hadn’t been booby-trapped the way it would be if the enemy had found it. “If we get into a fight, don’t waste rounds,” she cautioned her Marines. “If I catch anybody spraying shots without aiming I’ll make you regret the day you joined the Marines.”
Private Ford raised his hand. “Major, with all due respect, the last few weeks I’ve kind of already been regretting that.”
She laughed along with the others. As long as they could still make jokes they’d still be able to fight.
Sergeant Giddings pointed to his right. “There’s a spot about a hundred meters that way.”
“It looks okay, Major,” Corporal Lamar agreed.
“Let’s get going, Lamar. Glitch, stay with me.”
Corporal Lamar eased cautiously out into the hallway, gazing around before beckoning the others to follow. “Ford, take point.”
“Ford, take point,” Ford grumbled. “I think I’ll let myself get shot again.”
“Is it malingering if you let the enemy shoot you instead of shooting yourself?” Private MacKinder wondered.
“Yes,” Corporal Lamar said. “Now shut up. Mac, you take the rear.” Lamar followed Ford as he headed along the hall away from where their sensors warned that the enemy patrol was approaching.
“Are we still tracking them?” Mele asked Corporal Okubo, who was just in front of her, while Giddings was just behind.
“Yes, Major, they’re—wait. It looks like they just changed their path. They’re moving fast.”
“Toward us?” Mele demanded, peering down the darkened hallway. “Talk to me!”
“No! Sort of right angles to us.”
A sudden change of route. Moving fast. “They might’ve spotted some of our other people. Lamar! Change the route to get closer to that patrol. Keep it careful.”
“Yes, ma’am. Ford, have you got readings on them?”
“Uh . . . yeah. Now we’re trying to catch them?”
“Yes. Go.” Ford eased up to a corner, then edged around it, the others following.
Less than two minutes later, sudden crashes erupted ahead along the path the enemy patrol had taken, the sounds of shots echoing and rebounding from walls, ceilings, and floors. “That’s less than twenty meters off. Let’s go!” Mele said. “Our guys probably need help.”
Much faster now, running up a stair, out into a hall blocked only a few meters down, into a room, the sound of shots growing louder but the exact locations still hard to grasp because of the echoing, out the second door into another hall, and—
Ford jerked to a halt, waving to the others to take cover. Mele kept going until she could see what the lead Marine had spotted.
Two enemy soldiers, crouched at a corner, leaning out to fire carefully to their left. Concentrating on whomever they were fighting, their backs to Mele’s small group, the enemy hadn’t yet noticed the danger behind them. “Lamar, you’re my best shot. Pick the second best. Take out those two fast and clean.”
“Got it, ma’am. Mac, you take the shorter one. Fire on three.” Lamar and Mac aimed carefully. “One . . . two . . . three.” Both weapons barked. One enemy soldier fell limply to the floor, while the other staggered and began to turn. Lamar and Mac both fired again, the shots knocking the soldier back into the hallway.
The other firing nearby paused.
“Get down,” Mele ordered.
Lamar was already moving, snagging a grenade off the closest enemy soldier.
Holes appeared in the wall to their left as someone fired through it, the shots dancing up and down and over, but not going low enough to hit the Marines prone on the deck.
Enemy soldiers suddenly boiled out behind the Marines.
Lamar pitched the grenade into them as Mele and her Marines fired back. An enemy grenade went off too close to Mele for comfort, but her armor stopped the shrapnel. Steadying her aim, she put a shot through the faceplate of a soldier charging at the Marines.
Firing ceased as the Marines searched in vain for more targets, the sensors on their battle armor no longer warning of movement except for that of an enemy soldier twitching, unable to rise. Studying the remnants of the fight, Mele saw one of her Marines lying limp where the grenade had tossed him. “Medic!”
“On it,” Corporal Okubo said.
As the medic scrambled over to the injured private, Lamar positioned the remaining three Marines to cover against any more enemy soldiers showing up.
In the aftermath of the noise of battle, the sudden silence felt strange. The dark interior of the facility was pitch black once more except where the light Corporal Okubo was using cast some illumination. Infrared sight only made the darkness and the battered walls around them seem stranger and more alien. Mele checked the sensor displays on her armor, spotting fading vibrations that spoke of heavy footsteps, soldiers in battle armor, retreating rapidly. “Those ground apes were shooting at somebody.” Despite the risk of the transmission being detected by other enemy forces, she boosted power and called on the command circuit. “Any Marines out there?”
“I’ve got something to the left,” Sergeant Giddings said, checking his own readings. “I think it’s friendly ID transmissions. Real low power. Close by.”
“Anybody out there,” Mele sent again. “Identify yourself. We don’t have a lot of patience or time!”
A response finally came, the transmission weak and filled with static. “Don’t shoot! We’re coming in! We’re force recon!”
“Ford, Mac, cover them,” Lamar ordered.
“I see ’em,” Ford said, gazing ahead cautiously. “Four of our ground apes if their IFF is real.”
“Make certain they’re ours!”
“Yes, Major,” Lamar said. She stepped out, weapon at the ready. “Ford, keep them covered. Check ’em, Mac.”
Private MacKinder scuttled to the four new soldiers, checking over their armor and systems. “They’re ours,” Mac reported after a moment. “Ground force recon.”
“Get them over here with us,” Mele ordered.
“Major, we’ve got faint movement indicators all around,” Glitch reported. “Growing in intensity. The enemy’s concentrating toward the sounds of this fight.”
“We’ve gotta move,” Mele said. “Everybody—”
“No can do, Major,” Corporal Okubo said. He was kneeling beside the wounded Marine, working fast even as he talked. “Private Luk got hit bad. If we move this Marine, he dies.”
Mele paused, looking over at the other figure lying near the medic, an enemy soldier. Her helmet providing air still concealed her face, but half of her combat armor had been pulled off and plenty of blood marked the skin suit worn under the armor. Mele could tell that Okubo had taken the time to at least stabilize her for a moment. “What about that one?”
Okubo managed to shrug while still working to save the life of the wounded Marine. “Might live if we move her now. I doubt it, though.”
“Give me your recommendation,” Mele said.
“We leave them here and I keep working on them.” Okubo glanced at her for just a moment. “Ma’am, I’ve got to stay here or they both die.”
The big picture. Focus on the big picture. She couldn’t afford to let what might be the last medic in her forces be captured in order to save a single friendly life. And the loss of a single additional enemy life, while regrettable, wasn’t cause to sacrifice her medic. This was war, after all. It was her job to win this fight, and every Marine and ground forces soldier was expendable when it came to that.
Mele glanced down at the wounded Marine.
To hell with the big picture.
“Okay, Corporal Okubo. Stay. Have you got a weapon?”
“Uh, a sidearm.”
“Give.” Mele held out her hand. “You’ll be safer if you’re not armed when they get here.”
The medic paused one of his hands’ work long enough to reach around, flip the quick-release fitting on the sidearm holster, and pass it to Mele.
“Turn on your medic badges,” she ordered.
Okubo nodded quickly. Mele saw bright red symbols glow to life on his shoulders, on the forehead of his battle armor helmet, and between his shoulders on the back of his armor.
“Give us a good minute after we clear this spot and then light off your medic beacon, too. Understand?”
“Yes, Major.”
“Good.” Mele reached out to grip Okubo’s shoulder for a moment. “Save them, and keep yourself safe, Marine.”
“You got it. Thank you, Major.”
Mele stepped back, her eyes sweeping what little could be seen of the surrounding area. Her four remaining Marines, and the four figures in ground forces armor. Only four. “Are you apes on your own?”
One soldier tried to answer, stumbling over the words. “Uh . . . we . . . ah . . .”
There were times for gentle methods, and there were times like this. “Spit it out, soldier!”
“Yes, ma’am! We’re all that’s left of our group. Corporal Singh was leading us, but he just got killed when they jumped us.” A mix of sorrow, exhaustion, and despair made the soldier’s voice sound weird, his words hard to understand.
But Mele got the important parts. “You’re with us now. That’s Corporal Lamar. Do what she says. Or what I say. Glitch, have you found a way from here to that place we were going to hole up?”
“Yes, Major,” Sergeant Giddings said, pointing down the hallway. “That way.”
“Lamar!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lamar said. “Ford!”
“Yeah. Point.” But Private Ford didn’t hesitate as the warnings on the Marine sensors grew more urgent.
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