Ascendant

by Jack Campbell

  “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 fo
r 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.”