Saber took up position shadowing the enemy force.
Unless something changed the odds, there wasn’t much else he could do.
* * *
• • •
This conference room on the orbital facility had been stripped of valuable equipment, but the chairs and big table hadn’t been worth hauling down to the surface in the time available. Mele sat at one end of the table, looking down its length at the Marine and ground forces officers and senior enlisted. Aside from her, the only other Marine officer was newly promoted Lieutenant Shahid Nasir. Shahid had been an easy pick for the lieutenant job since he’d been in officer training on Luxor when that Old Colony followed along with the others and drastically cut back the already small military force it had maintained. Almost completely qualified in a job for which there was no longer local demand, he had, like many others, looked outward to where humanity was rapidly expanding deeper into the galaxy.
For Mele the deciding factor had been that when Shahid was approached by recruiters for Apulu he’d balked at their terms of service and demands for obedience to all orders. “History shows the dangers of such things,” he had explained to Mele. “Demanding that all orders be obeyed regardless of legality or humanity. Any government that fears the consciences of its own soldiers is not a government to be trusted.”
“You do understand,” Mele had replied, “that you need to have a really good reason for refusing to obey an order, right?”
“I hope never to have to disobey an order,” Shahid said. “But if you do not trust me to know when an order is illegal, or when such an extreme circumstance exists, perhaps you should not entrust me with an officer position on which the lives of others rest.”
“Good point.”
Lieutenant Nasir sat next to Gunnery Sergeant Moon. Opposite them sat Captain Batra, along with Lieutenant Keith Paratnam, Lieutenant Jana Killian, and Master Sergeant Teri Savak. They all looked worn-out. Mele imagined she looked at least as bad. “We’ve got twenty hours before the enemy arrives if they maintain their current velocity,” she said. “I want to ensure everyone gets some rest before then. We’re not going to have many opportunities for rest after that.”
Mele gestured toward the display still mounted on one wall. “The enemy ships started braking velocity exactly when expected. They’re maintaining a vector to bring them next to this facility, with the facility between them and the planet below.”
“It’s too bad we don’t actually have any antiorbital weapons on the surface,” Lieutenant Killian commented, her eyes somber.
“We do have fakes,” Mele said, drawing surprised looks. “Colonel Menziwa briefed me on them. This information does not go outside this room. The government has set up decoys in a dozen places. The decoys generate the same passive and active signals as real concealed antiorbital weapons sites would. From orbit they’ll look like actual hidden weapon locations. Aside from keeping the enemy ships nervous, we’re hoping they’ll expend their bombardment projectiles on those sites so every other place will be safe.”
Captain Batra smiled. “It would take a half dozen standard projectiles to eliminate each suspected site. At the least, that would use up a lot of their supply.”
“But why would the enemy believe we really have such sites?” Killian asked. “Aren’t we fairly sure they have spies on the planet who would’ve spotted something like that?”
Mele nodded. “At least one of those spies has been identified, and deliberately allowed access to details on the top-secret antiorbital weapons program.”
“Nice,” Killian admitted. “It’s good to know we’ve been punching back on the covert junk.”
“The goal of the deception was to discourage the enemy from attacking the planet again,” Mele said. “It failed in that. Hopefully it’ll work better as a way to soak up the enemy bombardment capabilities.”
“How close do the enemy ships have to get before they launch a bombardment?”
“I was told the soonest they’d probably launch would be ten hours from now. By then they’ll be close enough to be fairly sure of accurate drops on their rocks. But it’s possible they won’t bombard if they think they can capture this facility. They probably want to capture intact as much weaponry and industry on the planet as they can.”
Lieutenant Paratnam rubbed his eyes. “Do we have any better estimate for how long we’ll need to hold out once they get here?”
“No,” Mele said. “There are too many variables with unknown quantities. Especially the fuel supplies on the enemy warships. The more damage we do, the more we force them to use energy, the sooner they’ll have to withdraw.”
“A death grapple,” Captain Batra grumbled. “I wish we knew exactly who we were up against.”
“It’s unlikely to be Reds,” Sergeant Moon said. “The enemy knows they need well-trained troops to take a facility like this.”
“Maybe Red shock troops to take the damage from our initial defense,” Lieutenant Killian suggested. She nodded as if confirming her own words. “Use them to wear us down, and limit the losses to their good troops.”
Mele was about to reply when a high-priority message alert sounded. “Ninja? Not a great time.” From what could be seen in the image on Mele’s pad, Rob’s wife was sending this message from inside a tent.
“This is business,” Ninja snapped in reply. “Here,” she added as a pop-up window appeared. “A network on the enemy freighter lit off, probably somebody testing the gear just before action who hit the wireless command by accident when they were supposed to be using only physical links. Before it went off I was able to ping it and get it to send back identification. Here are who some of the people you’re facing used to be.”
Mele stared at the ID. “Perfect timing. Any luck getting into that network?”
“Not yet. It shut down before I could make a serious try. As soon as they activate again I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Lyn. You’re a wonder.”
The others stared at their pads as Mele forwarded the message. “Old Earth military,” Captain Batra said. “These guys are good.”
Master Sergeant Savak cleared her throat. “Sir, most of those units were only maintained as cadres,” she said. “Officers and senior enlisted, but very few junior enlisted. They were expected to fill out their ranks if needed using activated reserve forces.”
“Reserves.” Batra pondered that. “People with their own jobs, and lives outside the military. Far less likely to have felt cut loose and be lacking for employment when militaries were drastically cut back.”
“And far more likely to have stayed at home,” Sergeant Savak said. “We’ll be facing really good leaders, and whatever rankers they’ve been able to sign up. Taking out the leaders will be even more important than usual.” Savak didn’t seem to be particularly worked up over that, but then from what Mele had seen, Sergeant Savak didn’t get particularly worked up over anything.
“You said most units like that were organized that way,” Mele said. “Some were all professionals?”
Savak hesitated, then nodded. “That’s right, Captain. It is possible that we’ll face an outfit like that.”
“We’ll have to assume the worst until we find out otherwise,” Gunny Moon said.
Captain Batra aimed a sharp look at Savak. “Master Sergeant, somebody on the other side got careless and gave us some very important information. Let’s be very sure that none of our people make a similar mistake.”
“They all know I’ll use their guts to decorate the outside of this facility if any of them screw up like that, sir,” Sergeant Savak said with a smile.
“Perhaps one of them should,” Gunnery Sergeant Moon said in the way of someone who’d just had a thought. He grinned at the surprised looks sent his way. “I mean, let something false out that gives them a misleading impression of us.”
“Disinfor
mation?” Batra said. “They should know who we are, Sergeant Moon. Our unit came to Glenlyon some time ago.”
“Yes, Captain,” Moon agreed. “But they don’t know who is up here, and what our readiness is or our morale.”
“I see. Make them think we’re scared or sloppy? Ready to crumble?” Batra asked.
“Maybe this leak to us was also deliberate,” Killian suggested.
“If so, they were trying to impress us. To scare us.” Batra frowned. “Captain Darcy, how do we want the enemy to approach us?”
“Do you mean as a threat?” Mele asked. “If they overestimate us, they’ll be more cautious, and employ more firepower straight off regardless of the damage it does to the facility.”
“But,” Sergeant Moon said, “if they underestimate us, they might come charging in hard and fast, hoping we’ll break easy and let them capture this place almost intact.”
Sergeant Savak smiled in an unnervingly serene manner. “If they come in hard and fast, with little preparation, we can have a very impressive reception waiting for them.”
Captain Batra nodded. “Captain Darcy, with your permission I’d like to have my hack-and-cracks create some false identities who sneak messages past security protocols to lament to their friends about the very sad state of the defending forces here.”
“Go ahead,” Mele said. “Give the impression that we have too few people and too little in the way of weapons, that we’re a sacrificial force left in a hopeless position to make it look like the government didn’t simply abandon this facility.” She paused, realizing that she’d just described the situation that she’d been in at Kosatka. But if any of the others noticed, none of them reacted. “Sergeant Moon, make sure Glitch provides any assistance Captain Batra’s people need to carry this off. We want the enemy to think our Marines are shaky, too.”
“Yes, Captain.” Moon gave her a speculative look. “Maybe Sergeant Giddings can add in some information about the Marine commander being so severely impacted by post-traumatic stress suffered at Kosatka that she’s walking wounded.”
“Anything that causes the enemy to underestimate me is fine.” Mele noticed the ground forces soldiers trying to hide smirks. “Is there a joke I missed?”
The smirks disappeared. Over the last week all of the ground forces leaders had learned what happened when they messed with Captain Darcy. There had been more than one tense “instructional moment,” but at this point open disagreement at least was a thing of the past.
“Good,” Mele said. “Because I was thinking that if this deception works, when will we find out?”
A pause, then Lieutenant Killian answered as cautiously as someone worried about a trick question. “When they attack.”
Captain Batra nodded. “If they expect heavy resistance, their warships will conduct heavy fire support before they land, hitting anyplace they think might be a strongpoint. If they think we’re going to cave, they’ll risk doing without a heavy pre-assault in order to limit damage to the facility.”
“Right,” Mele said. “Which means we have to be ready to shift our defense on the spur of the moment. We won’t know which type of attack we’re going to face until we see it coming at us.”
Captain Batra waved aside Mele’s concern. “We’re force reconnaissance. My soldiers are trained to move fast and often. That is exactly the type of battle we’re best suited for.”
“What about the heavy weapons platoon?”
“They also move fast and often,” Lieutenant Paratnam said. “If they stay in one place for any length of time, the enemy can fix their position and hit them. They won’t have any trouble shifting position after every couple of shots. It’s what they do anyway.”
“Our Marines are light infantry,” Sergeant Moon said. “So the same is true of them. We’re actually better off in a mobile fight than if we all dug in and fought from fixed positions.”
Captain Batra fixed Mele with a sharp look. “You planned for that kind of fight all along.”
“Of course I did,” Mele said. “It offers us the best chance.”
“What if the enemy had come in preparing for a different kind of fight?”
Mele grinned. “This is our battlefield. We get to choose how we fight. If they’re not prepared for that kind of fight, it’ll hurt them.”
“Captain Darcy,” Lieutenant Killian said, “what if they decide the fight is too tough, withdraw their troops, and set off charges to shove this facility into a decaying orbit? That’d deny them use of the facility, but it would also eliminate Glenlyon’s ability to use it. And of course none of us would survive that.”
“That’s a possibility,” Mele conceded. “If that happens, we’ll react in the best manner we can given the exact circumstances.”
“What could we do?” Captain Pradesh asked. “If it comes to that?”
“That’ll depend on exactly what’s happening.” What Mele thought was a simple, common-sense recognition that it was impossible to predict exactly what would be the best thing to do was met with concerned frowns from the ground forces officers. “If they’re losing badly enough to give up on capturing this place,” she added, “that’ll mean we have the ability to mess with anything else they try to do. The enemy may outnumber and outgun us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make them dance to our tune.”
This time Captain Batra nodded along with encouraging looks at his subordinates. “Captain Darcy is right. If we keep the enemy off-balance, he’ll have a hard time acting as he wishes.”
“All right,” Mele said. “Company’s coming. Let’s get the final preps done for a nice, warm welcome when they get here.”
Once the ground forces soldiers had left, she gestured to Lieutenant Nasir and Sergeant Moon. “Get going on that disinformation. The more we can make the enemy complacent about what they’ll find here, the more we can knock them back hard when they get here. Gunny, is Sergeant Giddings working with Ninja?”
“Lyn Geary?” Moon asked. “Are you asking if Glitch is officially or unofficially working with her?”
“Officially, from this point on,” Mele said. “On my authority. I want Ninja to know what the ground forces code monkeys are doing so our efforts don’t stumble over each other.”
“I’ll notify Glitch immediately,” Moon said.
“Good. Lieutenant,” Mele added, “can you check on the modifications to the exterior surface of this facility on the side where we expect the attack to come in?”
“Yes, Captain. I’ll get you a complete status report.”
As she left the conference room, Mele stood aside for several soldiers and a civilian worker who tromped into the room and hefted up the table and a few of the chairs. “These are going into the barricades,” the worker told Mele. “They won’t stop those guys, but they’ll slow ’em down. That’s the idea, right? We’re gonna rope-a-dope these guys?”
That was a new one on her. “‘Rope-a-dope’?”
“Yeah.” The worker paused to answer her, setting down the two chairs he was carrying. “Back on Old Earth that’s what we called backing up and protecting yourself while the bad guys wear themselves out throwing useless punches. Isn’t that what we’re gonna do?”
“That’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” Mele said. Rope-a-dope. Maybe the great military theorists like Sun Tzu and Clausewitz hadn’t come up with that term, but it was exactly the tactic and the strategy she was planning on. “Why is it called that?”
The worker shrugged as he hefted the chairs again. “I don’t know. Something to do with boxing, I think. Or wrestling? They’ve both got ropes around the ring.”
“Thanks. Are you heading down soon?”
“I guess.” The worker paused, looking conflicted. “I hate to leave you guys. I mean, I might be able to help if I stay up here.”
Mele gripped his shoulder. “Head for the surface. We’ll handle
the fighting. People like you are going to be needed to put this place back together after we finish saving it.”
He smiled, perhaps relieved to have his offer rejected. “Try not to trash it too bad when you kick their butts.”
“I’ll do my best.” Mele watched the worker head away from her, hoping that when the fight was done there’d be a facility left for him to fix.
CHAPTER 6
Carmen Ochoa woke up as the transport set down at the main spaceport serving the city of Lodz. Yawning, she hoisted her rifle and headed out onto the tarmac, where the morning’s rising sun had barely begun to warm the air and surface beneath her feet. She walked to the terminal, avoiding looking toward where a raid aimed at this spaceport had once been stopped dead.
Once upon a time, wearing a uniform on public transport and carrying her weapon would’ve made her stand out. But now Carmen was only one of those like that. A team of soldiers in full combat gear, their weapons at the ready, looked Carmen over as part of their security duties. She offered her ID without being asked, then exchanged nods of mutual respect with the guards.
As usual, Carmen felt conflicted about such things. She didn’t like the sense of oppression that armed guards brought with them. The way they made open places feel confined just by being there. But she’d grown up on Mars, where the only armed guards were thugs answering to gangs and warlords. These guards on Kosatka were here to prevent such people from working their will on the helpless. That made their presence comforting.
She didn’t bother trying to reconcile the conflicting feelings. There probably wasn’t any way to do that, anyhow.
Parts of Lodz looked like a city where a big invasion had been fought and repulsed, while other sections were unmarked by violence. That felt weird, too.
First Minister Hofer’s office was in the large collection of buildings known as the government complex. Many of those buildings had been damaged during the recent invasion and still bore the scars of battle. But Hofer had moved everyone back as soon as the enemy was driven out, insisting that Kosatka’s government would not be displaced by the actions of foreign foes. It made for some difficult working conditions, but the decision had been popular with the people of Kosatka, who were tired of being pushed around and needed some strong imagery.
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