She didn’t have to hesitate as the passageway split. Coming around a corner, she found two enemy soldiers in battle armor running toward them and fired before the startled enemy could, she and her force recon soldiers pumping rounds into the enemy faceplates until both soldiers fell.
Around another corner, down a short passageway, to the right again, and there was the hatch onto the control deck, centered in the forward bulkhead, sealed and locked. “Glitch! Get it open. You two,” she told the soldiers with her, “watch that direction.”
Mele turned to guard the other approach, her weapon at the ready. She heard one of the soldiers behind her fire.
“One enemy, no armor. They ducked back!” the soldier called.
“Waiting for reinforcements,” the second soldier guessed.
“How are we doing?” Mele asked Giddings. “Do we have to blow it open?”
“Nah. Almost . . . got it.” Giddings stood up as the hatch swung open, his weapon centered on the opening. He went through as Mele backed toward it.
“Come on,” she told the force recon soldiers, waiting until the soldiers went through, then following. “Get it shut and locked again, then join me,” she told Giddings. “You two guard it,” she told the soldiers. “Don’t let anyone through.”
“No one’s coming through that door, Major,” one of the soldiers said.
Spinning, Mele faced the two-meter-long passage leading onto the control deck.
Instead of moving cautiously she ran the last two meters and hurled herself out onto the control deck, her rifle seeking targets.
Several civilian sailors stood staring at her, frozen in surprise.
Mele came to a halt against a control panel on the forward bulkhead, hoping that she hadn’t inadvertently banged into one of the controls, her rifle leveled at the sailors. She set her helmet’s speaker to relay her voice now that she was inside the freighter with atmosphere and people could hear it. “Who’s in charge?”
One sailor hesitated as the others looked at him.
“You,” Mele said, aiming her rifle directly at the man, whose eyes seemed to have doubled in size as he watched her. “I’m Major Darcy, Glenlyon Marines. I hereby take control of this ship in the name of the government of the star system of Glenlyon. No one will be harmed unless they give me a hard time. Where’s your comm to the ship’s power core compartment?”
“I . . . I don’t . . .”
“Did you hear what I said about people who give me a hard time?”
One of the other sailors lurched toward a nearby panel, pointing. “That control.”
Mele went to it, keeping her weapon pointed at the freighter crew members, who backed away as she advanced. The display there had glowing virtual buttons helpfully labeled with compartment names and functions. She pressed the one that said “engineering.” “This is the bridge. Who’s there?”
The reply came quickly. “Corporal La— I mean, Sergeant Lamar, Glenlyon Marines. That you, Major?”
“That’s me. Any problems?”
“We had to plow our way through a few hostiles, but we’re inside and the hatch is sealed. Oh, we’ve also got two freighter crew members in here, but both claim they know nothing about engineering and were just in here for some privacy.”
“Pick a button that looks important and push it to see what happens,” Mele ordered.
A few seconds later she heard a commotion over the intercom, then Lamar came back on. “Wow. That made her really angry. Or worried. She moved like a scared cat to keep me from pushing that button. Yeah, she’s the engineer.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Um . . . not much.”
“Okay.”
“Should I still push the button?” Lamar asked.
“NO!” Mele said, trying to put as much force as possible behind the word. “Do not.”
“Major!” one of her soldiers called. “There’s someone trying to force this hatch!”
Mele touched another control labeled “general announcing.” “Everyone aboard this ship, this is Major Darcy of the Glenlyon Marines. We are in possession of the control deck and the ship’s power core. Any attempts to force entry into either compartment will result in us destroying critical equipment.
“You should be aware that I’m saving all of your lives by capturing this ship. Glenlyon has achieved space superiority and would be moving to destroy this ship if we had not captured it.
“I want the senior officer aboard to contact me. I repeat, any attempts to force entry into the control deck or the power core compartment will result in critical damage to both areas, which would leave you all helpless as our destroyers arrive to blow you away. Contact me on the control deck.”
Mele called back to her soldiers, “Are they still trying to get in?”
“No, ma’am! They’ve stopped.”
“Keep an eye on it and kill anyone who tries to come through.”
The ship’s captain had finally found his voice, though it quavered slightly. “We’ll do what we’re told. We won’t try anything.” From the looks of him, he’d been running freighters for a long time, the sort of old hand that had more and more trouble finding steady work as younger officers were hired instead. He’d probably ended up this far out because he couldn’t find a job closer to Old Earth. “We’re not soldiers like you.”
“I’m not a soldier,” Mele said, her voice colder than she’d intended. “I’m a Marine.”
“Uh . . .”
“We won’t harm noncombatants,” Mele repeated. She had kept her rifle aimed toward the captain of the freighter and finally moved it a little to one side.
“Control deck, this is Captain Horvath of the Hesta Peacekeeping Expedition,” a man’s voice said over the speakers on the control deck.
“This is Major Darcy,” Mele said. “Are you prepared to surrender those aboard this freighter to me?”
“I don’t have authority to do that,” Horvath replied. “I need to speak with Colonel Busik, our commanding officer. That may take some time.”
“How much time?”
“Half an hour. I’ve ordered my soldiers aboard the freighter to avoid taking any action until we receive commands from the colonel.”
“All right,” Mele said. “Talk to your colonel. We won’t block your transmissions from this ship. But no nonsense and don’t take too long. I’ve got three enlisted Marines in the power core compartment, and if they get nervous or bored they might start pushing buttons to see what happens.”
“I understand. Are you aware that those members of your force that we have made prisoner are aboard this ship?”
“That’s why we captured it,” Mele said. “Do I have to emphasize that nothing had better happen to those prisoners?”
“We are not criminals,” Captain Horvath said, his pride clearly stung. “We abide by the common rules of war. I wanted to ensure that you knew any actions you take to endanger this ship will also endanger your own captured personnel. I will now contact Colonel Busik.”
Sergeant Giddings came onto the control deck and leaned against one of the seats bolted to the deck. “The hatch is locked, Major, and I reset the controls so only I can open it without forced entry munitions.”
“Good. How are the ground apes doing?”
“Happy. They got to hit back at the bad guys. I feel real bad for anyone who tries to come through that hatch.” Giddings looked around. “Man, they’ve got old gear on this tub. But they’ve kept it up well.”
Mele had seen the crew’s defensive reactions to Giddings’s first observation, and how they’d relaxed a bit when he added the second. “Are you the owners?” she asked the crew.
“Yes,” one of the older ones answered. “We bought it on shares. That was when Hesta was free.”
“Shhh!” another sailor tried to hush him.
“I
won’t be silent! That puppet government that runs things on Hesta now told us we’d been seized for not paying some taxes that no one had ever heard of. We had to do this, Citizen Marine! This ship is our lives!”
Mele nodded. “As long as everybody plays nice, you might get this ship back in one piece. We won’t damage anything we don’t have to, and Glenlyon isn’t in the business of seizing property unless there’s a good legal reason for it.”
Sergeant Giddings indicated the controls. “Can you guys show us the situation in space?”
“If that’s okay,” the captain said, eyeing Mele warily.
She nodded, and the captain brought a display to life. “This is the situation in the region of this planet. You see . . .” He paused, looking stunned. “Those are the warships that accompanied us! They’re leaving!”
“So they are,” Mele said.
“You told us the truth!”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes. What’s that there?”
“That’s, um, your ship. The destroyer. The way it’s moving, it must have been badly damaged. They don’t seem able to control the ship.”
Damn. Mele tried to block emotion from her voice. “What about your ships? The warships. Are they damaged?”
“It’s hard to tell. We’re a freighter, not a warship or a research ship. Our sensors can’t . . .” The captain paused again. “Something seems to be wrong with the bigger warship. That’s all I know.”
Rob Geary had been in a fight, and hopefully had accomplished what he needed to. “Show me what’s going on in the rest of the star system.”
“The rest? There’s nothing—” The captain had run out the scale on the display and stopped speaking as he stared. “Four more warships. Headed this way very fast.”
“You didn’t know about those?” Mele asked.
“Only from your announcement. We had orders from the warships. Keep our display on local region only. I . . . I guess they didn’t want us to panic.”
“Will they attack us?” another sailor asked, her voice frantic with worry.
“Not as long as my people are in control of this ship,” Mele said. “So cooperating would be a really good idea. You guys got any coffee?”
* * *
• • •
Twenty minutes later Mele accepted a transmission to the ship from the enemy forces on the facility. The ground forces colonel who stared impassively from the display bore the marks of too many days with too little sleep aggravated by frustration and regret. “This is Colonel Busik, commanding officer of the Hesta Peacekeeping Expedition.”
“Major Darcy, Glenlyon Marines,” she replied. “I believe that you’re Colonel Busik, but I don’t believe that you’re really under Hesta’s command, and you and I both know your mission wasn’t about keeping the peace.”
“That’s the official name of the unit,” Busik said, glowering.
“All right. Call it what you want. Are you ready to talk?”
Colonel Busik inhaled, looking down, before raising his gaze to look at her again. “Major Darcy, I have been able to confirm the information that you broadcast. That your forces now have superiority in space due to the arrival of reinforcements, and that the warships supporting my unit are . . . conducting a tactical withdrawal.”
“A tactical withdrawal? Is that what they’re calling running away?” Mele asked.
“I see no sense in debating terminology,” Busik said. “My request for an explanation from the warships supporting us has not been answered. I understand the situation. My forces have lost any means to withdraw, as well as our supplies. I have no wish to lose any more soldiers in this battle now that the outcome is our certain defeat. Will you negotiate in good faith?”
Mele nodded. “So far we’ve been trying to kill each other in a civilized fashion. I think we can also negotiate in a civilized way. Which is my way of saying that you and your forces have conducted yourselves honorably, so I have every intention of conducting these negotiations in the same manner.”
“Good. I want to ensure an immediate cease-fire goes into effect for both sides. I’ve already ordered my soldiers to remain in their current locations and only fire if first fired upon.”
Mele nodded once more. “Stop your jamming and I’ll see to it that the same orders go out to my Marines and the ground forces soldiers under my command. I’d like to ensure that all prisoners taken by your forces are also not in any danger.”
Colonel Busik frowned again, as if upset by the question. “They are not in danger. Order them to remain in place, though, until we arrange their official release.”
“I’ll do that,” Mele said. “I’d like an accounting of prisoners as soon as possible.”
“Of course. Do your forces have any prisoners from my unit?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Mele said. “My communications with the subunits on this facility have been intermittent. Once your jamming ceases I will order that I be immediately notified if any prisoners are held by any of my forces.”
“Done. Do I have your word that negotiations may now proceed face-to-face without any danger to the participants?”
“You have my word,” Mele said. “I’ll meet your delegation at the main air lock to the freighter in one half hour.”
“Good. I’ll be there with some of my staff. No weapons. I give my word your safety and that of your representatives is also guaranteed.” He paused to study her image. “They told us on the way here that this would be a walkover. That we’d be going up against amateurs led by a self-important corporal promoted far past her level of competence.”
That sounded almost like something that Colonel Menziwa would say. Mele gave Colonel Busik a thin-lipped look. “When you’re working for someone who lies to everybody, it’s not really surprising when they also lie to you, is it?”
Busik nodded, some distress showing in his eyes. “I don’t like to think that my soldiers died because of lies.”
“But you know they did.”
The colonel nodded again. “Yes. Busik, out.”
Mele let out a long breath of relief. “When mercenaries choose the wrong employer, they pay an awful price. Sergeant Giddings, let me know when the enemy jamming stops.”
“Yes, ma’am. I . . . it just stopped. All frequencies are clear. I can relay you through the freighter’s systems so you’ve got a lot of power.”
Setting her comms to broadcast to her entire force, Mele spoke as clearly as she could. “All Marines and Glenlyon ground forces operating on the orbital facility, this is Major Darcy. Thanks to your own guts and determination, as well as the support of the space squids, we’ve won. I am on the freighter, which we now control, and am negotiating the surrender of the attacking force, whose commander has agreed to immediately cease combat operations. All units are to remain in place until further notice, and cease firing unless attacked. I say again, remain in place and do not fire unless fired upon. Individual unit commanders are to contact me using the command net frequency to confirm your receipt of these orders, and to advise whether you are in possession of any enemy prisoners. Darcy, over.”
Almost immediately her comm light came on. “Major, this is Gunnery Sergeant Moon. I understand your orders and will carry them out. The Marines with me have no prisoners. Moon, over.”
“Major, this is Sergeant Major Savak. Understood and will obey. Three prisoners. Savak, over.”
“Lieutenant Paratnam, Major. Orders received and understood. Two prisoners. Paratnam, over.”
“This is Corporal Oshiro, Major. Understand orders. No prisoners with my group. Oshiro, over.”
“This is Sergeant Karlal. My unit merged with the remnants of Lieutenant Killian’s force. Orders understood. Five prisoners. Karlal, over.”
“Corporal Rajput, reporting in. Orders received and understood. No prisoners with us. Rajput, over.”
; Mele paused before replying. “All groups, stand by for further orders. Darcy, out.” They’d begun with about one hundred forty Marines and soldiers divided into eleven groups. Counting Mele’s companions, there were only seven groups left. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing the casualty lists, to seeing how small those groups now were, to knowing how many had died to make this victory happen. Colonel Busik’s words came back to her. “I don’t like to think that my soldiers died because of lies.” At least she knew that wasn’t true of those who had died defending Glenlyon.
But at the moment that was very cold comfort indeed.
* * *
• • •
“Main propulsion back online. Ready to boost at full,” Chief Petty Officer Quinton reported.
“How’re maneuvering thrusters?” Rob Geary asked.
“Online.”
“Lieutenant Cameron—”
“I have the intercept ready, Captain. I’ve been keeping it continually updating.”
“Send it to me.” Rob looked over the solution. They’d be in a stern chase. Only the damage to the enemy light cruiser’s propulsion gave Saber a chance of catching the enemy again, nearly two days from now. “Do we have enough fuel cells for this?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Execute.”
As soon as Saber had steadied out on her new course, Rob stood up from the command chair, feeling stiff. “I’m going to sick bay, and then checking out the rest of the ship.”
He left the bridge, walking carefully until his legs loosened up.
Don’t look gloomy or sad. Grim. That was it. Grim and confident. Be a leader. Show you respected and grieved for the sacrifices, but were still strong and believed in them and were ready to lead them into other fights. That was what Rob thought the crew needed to see. He tried to show them that. Not because he wanted them to think more of him, but because he wanted them to know what he thought of them. They deserved the best he could show them.
Sick bay was a crowded shambles, Chief Petty Officer Austin working continuously to save the lives of the wounded, the bodies of those he couldn’t save set aside. Rob gazed on it for a moment, not wanting to interrupt Austin’s work. He was about to leave when he saw one of the wounded watching him, and instead stepped in, careful not to hinder Chief Austin. He spoke to those who were conscious, telling them all how well they’d done and how Saber was still in the fight.
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