Triumphant (Genesis Fleet, The)

by Jack Campbell

  She knelt down to look into Haldane’s eyes. “Why did you help this surrender happen?”

  “I don’t want to die,” Haldane said, weariness, fear, and sorrow mixed together in his voice.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Brahma. Are you really from Mars?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well . . .” Haldane blinked, shuddering for a moment. “Thank you. I’d heard that Reds . . . I’m sorry. Um, you guys could’ve just wiped us out.”

  “Were you in Lodz?”

  “Huh? No. My unit landed near here. We were supposed to secure this city, so we’ve been here the whole time.” Haldane gasped a pained laugh. “We were worried we wouldn’t see any fighting. Stupid, huh?”

  “Yeah. Listen,” Carmen said. “We keep our promises. The troops who are surrendering will be treated humanely. You can help with that. Those troops will be looking for officers of their own to tell them what to do and reassure them that if they behave well they’ll be treated well. You can be one of those officers, you can help ensure no more of those you once led die uselessly, but you’ll have to get up and think about the men and women who are about to walk in here and will need leaders they trust.”

  Haldane looked at her, startled, before nodding. He got up, moving more slowly as his sudden action attracted the interest of Kosatkan guards, whose weapons swung toward him.

  Carmen saw a colonel she knew and waved him over. “This officer,” she said, indicating Haldane, “can help you handle the enemy soldiers who are surrendering.”

  “Can he?” The colonel looked over Haldane with cold eyes. “Are we sure he’s clean?”

  Meaning had Haldane committed any atrocities. “He’s been in Ani the whole time.”

  “Okay. Come on, you.” The colonel gestured to Haldane, who followed quickly.

  Carmen went to a quiet corner and linked in to her messages, pausing as she looked at the unsent message to Dominic.

  Instead of pushing “delete,” she sent the message into her drafts file, waiting in case it would be needed again.

  She felt the ground tremble as an orbital strike dropped from Shark fell onto the far-off site of Field Marshal Lopez’s bunker, wiping out the remaining enemy leadership. Outside, in the distance, she heard the desperate rattle of scattered gunfire as the remaining enemy resistance in Ani rapidly collapsed.

  All of Kosatka was once more free.

  Carmen thought of those who had died to stop the invasion, and wondered if this world could afford such a price a second time.

  * * *

  • • •

  “This is absurd,” Captain Batra snapped. “We’ve been watching the enemy charge at us for weeks!”

  “They had a long way to go,” Mele Darcy replied. She was in a location separate from the ground forces officer, the defenders having already been broken into eleven separate groups that were positioned throughout the orbital facility. As long as any of the many fiber links run through the facility remained intact, it would be possible for them to remain in contact at least occasionally. “Captain, I’m worried about your group commanders. We’ve done a lot of work, but they’re still not thinking in terms of this being space rather than a planet’s surface.”

  “My soldiers will not disappoint you,” Batra insisted.

  “That’s not what I’m talking about! They’re brave and they’re well trained, but they’ve been trained in a very different environment. When they’re inside the facility it’s easy for them to forget this is space and rules are different in important ways.”

  “We understand that.”

  “Do you? I think you and your lieutenants have grasped it, but I’m worried about your senior enlisted. They still seem to be way too sure of themselves.” It could always be a problem with senior enlisted, who could be so good at what they did that the idea something could trip them up didn’t even occur to them. And the ground forces sergeants were, as far as Mele could tell, very good at what they did. “Tell them again, Captain. We’re in space. The rules are different in important ways.”

  “Yes, Captain Darcy. I will remind them.”

  Mele decided she’d pressed the point as much as she could. “I hope they listen. The enemy is too close now for preparations to continue. Depending on how fast they make their final approach they’ll probably be here in about an hour. I’m going to place all units on full-combat status.” She shifted her comms to speak to the commanders of every individual group, some of them officers and some sergeants. “All personnel, we are now in a combat situation. Prepare for action within approximately one hour. You all know the plan. Wait for my command to go weapons free. After that, we have to assume the enemy will be doing his best to jam, trace, and interrupt all comms. Are there any last-minute questions?”

  Of course, Lieutenant Killian had a question. “Major, what if the enemy succeeds in jamming you before you can give the command to fire?”

  Which was actually not a bad question. “If enemy soldiers physically reach the facility and you haven’t heard the fire command yet, that moment will serve as your authorization to fire. I want to emphasize,” Mele added, “that everyone will have to use a lot of individual thinking and initiative to keep the enemy off-balance and unable to predict our actions. We’ve deliberately avoided drawing up detailed action plans for after the enemy boards this facility so that each of your groups will act independently. Keep moving and stay unpredictable. Any more questions? Then prepare for battle.”

  With nothing else to do now but wait, Mele Darcy leaned against one bulkhead in what had once been a closet in a storage room deep inside Glenlyon’s orbital facility. The facility, a blocky thing constructed in space, looked a lot like a section of a city in which every building had been squashed together into one structure and then hoisted into orbit. It had been designed to be home to industry and services and the people who worked in those areas and their families. It had also been designed to ease the movement of people and equipment and other items through the facility, because it was the orbiting link between the planet below and all of space beyond.

  Those people were gone, the offices and factories and other facilities empty. The men and women remaining were all Marines or soldiers, and all were in their battle armor, designed not just to protect against combat but also to serve as space suits once the helmets were donned and sealed. It was a certainty that the atmosphere inside the facility wouldn’t last long once the fighting started, and then everyone would be living in their sealed battle armor for the duration.

  Mele glanced inside her battle armor helmet that she still held in one hand, seeing the schematic displayed on the inside of the face shield. It bore little resemblance to the original layout. The entire facility had been converted as much as could be done in the time allowed into a three-dimensional maze filled with hidden compartments and paths. Any route that offered easy movement had been blocked at as many places as possible using everything available. Which was why she was leaning against a bulkhead instead of sitting down. Every chair had been securely fastened into the barricades and barriers.

  Markers glowed at apparently random places on the schematic, showing the locations of small, well-hidden stockpiles of food, water, ammunition, and other necessities. Other markers, shining a deadly red, marked numerous booby traps and mines.

  Mele bit her lip, wondering if her decision to limit copies of the new schematics to the armor systems of officers and noncommissioned officers had been the right thing to do. Any rank-and-file Marines or soldiers who got separated from their leaders would be unable to find their way around any better than the enemy could. But she didn’t want to risk any more than she had to the chance that that schematic might get captured. If the enemy got their hands on it, Mele’s Marines and Batra’s soldiers wouldn’t last long.

  She double-checked the software suicide command on the schematic to ensure it coul
d be easily triggered and would take place automatically if the armor detected serious harm to the human wearing it. Even if officers got captured, the schematic loaded into their armor shouldn’t be.

  A high-priority incoming call diverted Mele from thoughts that were darker than she cared for. “Darcy here.”

  Her faceplate screen lit with an image of President Chisholm. What Mele could see of the background didn’t seem all that different from Chisholm’s usual office in the capital, but Mele knew that at the moment Chisholm was in a newly constructed underground facility a good ways from the city. “I wanted to wish you luck,” the president said. “You know how important it is that Glenlyon hold on to that facility.”

  “We’ll do our best,” Mele replied.

  “I also wanted to inform you of your promotion to major. Congratulations.”

  “I’m a major again?” She tried to suppress a laugh that would surely sound inappropriate.

  President Chisholm’s smile remained polite and encouraging. “Permanently this time. In recognition of your service to Glenlyon, and your dedication to your adopted world. I hope you will have many more years of service in Glenlyon’s Marines.”

  “Me, too,” Mele said. “Thank you, Madam President. We’re expecting the enemy to hit us in about an hour. After that, comms are going to be intermittent at best.”

  “I understand. Good luck.” Chisholm hesitated, and Mele saw her real feelings show in her eyes. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have given you more resources. We gave you our best, though, and Commodore Geary has been authorized to take any actions he feels are necessary or appropriate to support your defense of the facility. Please believe that our hopes are with you.”

  “I do believe that,” Mele said. “Like I said, I’ll do my best, and I know every other man and woman up here will do the same. We’ll hold on to this facility.”

  “Thank you, Major. Um . . . good luck,” Chisholm repeated awkwardly, as if uncertain how to properly end what might be her last conversation with Mele. The president’s image vanished as the call ended.

  Mele surprised herself with a laugh. A promotion. At this time.

  She had an obligation to inform those under her command. “All groups, this is . . . Major Darcy. I’ve just been informed by President Chisholm that I’ve been promoted. I’m afraid the promotion party will have to wait until after this battle is over, though.”

  A moment later a call came in from Captain Batra, his image revealing surprise. “They really promoted you on the very eve of the battle?”

  “They really did.”

  Batra grimaced. “I’m sorry. You know what . . . I mean . . . traditionally . . .”

  “Yes, I know my history,” Mele said. “Commanders in hopeless positions are promoted to encourage them. But, you see, I have a plan regarding this promotion.”

  “What is that?”

  Mele gave him one of those grins that always earned her worried looks from Rob Geary. “I intend on winning this fight, and surviving it, so the government will be forced to live with me as a major.”

  After a moment, Captain Batra nodded. “Then I congratulate you, Major, and wish you a long career.”

  “Thanks. Make sure you come to the promotion party when this fight is done.”

  “I will,” Batra said.

  Mele made one more call, to Lieutenant Nasir and Gunnery Sergeant Moon. “I’m counting on you guys in particular.”

  Nasir’s tight smile betrayed his nervousness prior to his first battle, but nothing else did. “I will not let you down.”

  “Don’t let down the Marines under your command,” Mele said. “That’s the priority. Be the leader they need you to be.”

  “Yes, Major Darcy. I will.”

  “We’ll get it done, Major,” Moon assured her. “Don’t let Giddings or Lamar slack off. They’ve been pulling that ‘I’m a veteran of Kosatka’ stuff on the newcomers. I told ’em they better live up to that.”

  “Good. Get your final preps done,” Mele said.

  She left the cramped compartment through a new access that was pretty close to invisible when closed, entering a larger one where a dozen Marines waited. “How’s it look, Glitch?”

  Sergeant Giddings gestured around him. “It’s as ready as we can make it, Captain.”

  “Major,” Mele said.

  “Oh. Right. Sorry, ma’am.” Giddings looked down toward the deck, which was something people on orbiting facilities tended to do when thinking of people on the world the facilities were orbiting. “Ninja hasn’t been able to get into the enemy networks, though. She says these guys are really good. No telling if she’ll be able to make any useful penetrations of their systems.”

  “We’ll play it as if she won’t, so if she does it’ll be a bonus,” Mele said. “Corporal Lamar, Sergeant Giddings is going to be handling comms and net matters for me. That means for most matters you’re my leading noncommissioned officer.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Penny Lamar said.

  “You seem pretty relaxed.”

  “Been there, done that, Major Darcy,” Lamar said with a slight smile.

  “This is going to be different from Kosatka in some ways,” Mele warned. She looked around at the other Marines, eight privates and another corporal. “Since we’re the command element, we’re going to focus on staying uncaught rather than trying to hit the enemy whenever we can. That doesn’t mean we’ll be safe. The enemy is going to be trying to get us in particular in hopes that taking out our command element will cripple the defense. Every indication we have says that these guys are pros, and will give us a tough fight. Stay sharp. You’re Marines. I wouldn’t want anyone else here with me right now.”

  So much for the pep talk. Mele beckoned to Giddings. “Glitch, give me links to everything we’ve got.”

  Giddings touched one command. “That’s already set up, Cap—Major. You’ve got access to all sensor feeds and comm links. As soon as the enemy gets onto this station, they’re going to tap into physical links and force-feed jamming and malware at us, so those links might auto-sever without warning if they detect anything bad coming their way.”

  “Understood.” She checked the time. Maybe half an hour left until the enemy reached the facility. “Let’s armor up, everyone.” Mele took a deep breath before putting on her battle armor helmet, knowing that it might be days or longer before she’d have a chance to take it off again since even if air remained, life support on the facility would be cut off as soon as the power supply was shut down. Without fans to circulate the air, unseen and deadly concentrations of carbon dioxide could accumulate and knock out or kill.

  Her helmet sealed, she called up a view of the outside of the facility, seeing the stars and the endless night, and the symbols marking the three enemy warships getting closer with every moment. The systems tied into the sensors did the math and informed her that the enemy ships were twenty-six minutes from intercepting the facility in its orbit about the planet. “Sergeant Major Savak, prepare to carry out a destructive shutdown of the facility’s primary power systems in about twenty minutes. I want enough damage to the power handling and distribution systems that the enemy will need more than a week to bring anything back online.”

  “Understand, Major. We are standing by to break the facility power systems twenty minutes from now. We’ll receive an order to carry out the action at that time?”

  “Yes. Wait for the order. I want to make sure the enemy approach doesn’t turn into a feint designed to make us react too soon.”

  “Understood, Major. Standing by.”

  “All units, enemy forces are on final approach,” Mele announced to the defenders. “Maintain full cover until ordered to charge weapons and fire.”

  The destroyer was holding back, covering against Saber, but the light cruiser was swooping in close, the freighter just beyond it. As expected, they were co
ming in from an angle toward one side of the facility that faced away from the world it orbited, so the bulk of the facility itself protected them from any antiorbital weapons on the planet’s surface.

  “They don’t have to come in that close to fire, do they?” Lieutenant Nasir asked, his voice hushed as if the enemy could potentially overhear. The approaching ships were now close enough for their shapes to be visible, the blocky outlines of the big freighter dwarfing the lean mako shark–like lines of the light cruiser. Appearances were deceiving, though, since the larger freighter would be helpless if a warship like the cruiser attacked it.

  “No,” Mele said. “What they’re doing is coming close to look for defenses and maybe lure some of the defenders into firing at them. That’d let the cruiser take out the defenders with targeted shots.”

  “We can’t match them,” Nasir said, sounding regretful this time.

  “Not a chance,” Mele agreed. “We don’t have anything heavy enough to knock down that cruiser’s shields. So instead we stay quiet until they give the go-ahead for the freighter to move in close and launch its attack.”

  “If that ship stays close, they’ll be able to spot some of the preparations, won’t they? And engage any of our forces that open fire on the attack force?”

  “The cruiser? Yeah. They’ve got visual sensors designed to examine details on objects millions of kilometers away. This close they’ll be able to spot the tiniest hint of our preparations on the areas they’re examining.” Mele stared at her display, trying to will the enemy commander to get bored with examining the facility. The freighter, coming in more slowly, was still about a hundred kilometers out, probably waiting for the cruiser to give the all clear.

  “They’re not making any mistakes, are they?” Captain Batra said over the command circuit.

  “No,” Mele said. “Commodore Geary said these guys were doing everything by the book, and their book doesn’t seem to have any stupid parts. We’ll have to do this the hard way. Hold on.”

  The cruiser had suddenly fired thrusters, pitching upward and over. A moment later its main propulsion lit off in a blinding flare of light as the cruiser began accelerating fast, back the way it had approached.