by Mike Moscoe
“Fifty kilometers, ma'am.”
“Does it have an atmosphere?”
“Carbon dioxide,” Mattim answered, “and lots of other crud. Lousy with storms last time I passed it. And I was a lot farther away than fifty klicks. Plan for another bumpy ride.”
“Right, Captain. Our sun pass broke four carts loose. None were at battle station lock-downs. Two were marines. Captain, I recommend all personnel go into lock-down an hour before our close encounter with Ward Two.”
“Please advise the marines.” Mattim kept his voice even.
The admiral interrupted thirty seconds into the call. “I want all guard posts manned.”
“Sir, I respectfully recommend against that.” Ding stayed Navy formal. “Four carts failed. We got no chance to do maintenance. I expect a much higher failure rate this time.”
“Sir,” Mary cut in, “I have one marine in sick bay and another one who's just plain lucky. I only had fifty to start with, sir. I can't afford to lose any more.”
“Sir,” Mattim added, “everyone will be locked down at battle stations. We have cameras scattered about the ship. They can be put in surveillance mode.” As if you didn't know . “Anybody moves off station, you'll know.”
“You will keep the guards at my quarters.”
Mattim knew he should grab the compromise and run, but bulldozing Whitebred felt too good. “Sir, there are no lock-downs outside your quarters. At three-plus gees, I can't have them installed. Here, on the bridge, we'll be juggling a very high-risk encounter. We can't have a cart go careening around.”
Whitebred sputtered on net, apparently at a loss for words. Mary was gentle when she spoke. “You've had several marines in your quarters, sir. That looks like a pretty solid bulkhead between it and the bridge. I could move your guards inside.”
“Do it. Admiral Whitebred out,” he snapped.
Ding continued as if there had been no interruption. “Your bunk space has lock-downs, Captain Rodrigo. I'll have a work party help your troops lock their carts. Would you like them standing by in case anything comes loose?”
“That won't be necessary, Commander. I suspect my troops will sleep through the whole thing.”
“I hope mine do too. Exec out.”
“Glad that's over,” Ding sighed. “Now, how much ice do we have left on this boat's snout? Damage control, exec here.”
Mattim left her to her duties. Like a good captain, he motored from station to station, checking and double-checking. But his mind was elsewhere. If the marines go with me, the bombing is off. And if they don't? That was Mattim's nightmare. Mary sounded none too sure her marines would back her. If they didn't, Mattim wasn't done. Marines were marines; they rode in ships they didn't operate. If it came down to it, would any of them know whether a sailor was fixing a problem—or making one? Then again, a five-thousand-pound rock loose at three gees was not something captains wanted. How do you bust a ship so it can't throw rocks—and not kill anyone?
Mattim spent what spare time he had looking for just that spot as he prepared to sling shot around Ward Two. He'd studied everything and was going over the accelerator for the fourth time when it kicked him in the face. For the first time in a long while, he smiled.
* * * *
For the first time since coming aboard this tub, Mary had most of her marines present. The six guarding the admiral were a mixed bag. Three were old miners who thought like her. The other three would follow Dumont through hell. The Navy work party was done and gone; her troops were locked down, some already nodding off. She glanced at Lek. “Now,” she said.
Only one camera covered the room. With a soft pop it came off the wall, hanging by its cabling. In a few seconds, those wires gave way; the tiny spy shattered as it hit the deck.
“Listen up, folks,” Mary announced. “We got a problem. In case you didn't catch it on the grapevine, let me fill you in on this mission, and what's in it for you.” And she did.
Their reaction held no surprise. The billion deaths drew a shocked recoil from most of her miners. Dumont and crew shrugged it off. The promised reward got cheers from his crew—scowls from the miners. Had any fighting team ever been so split?
“So, why we talking, old lady?” Dumont hadn't used that crack in a while. “Pop a batch of colonials, end the war, and make a friend in high places. All fun and games by me!” It was to most of his youngsters.
Cassie almost came out of her gee-cart. “Didn't you hear her? Kill a billion people. A billion! God forgive us for even listening to the idea. We've got to stop him.”
“Your God never done nothing for me,” Dumont snorted. “If He's so all-fired against killing, where was he when Blacky or Amy or Har or any of us got popped? He got a special place in His heart for them colonials dirtside. He can play catch.”
Cassie, the only religious one in the troop, turned pale. “Let me take this,” Mary said softly. Slowly, she went over what she and Mattim had shared. The miners had no trouble agreeing that any promise from Whitebred wasn't worth the air he used to say it. The youngsters, however, bought his line.
“He forget us, we cut him up good” came from somewhere in the back. For the next minute, the youngsters competed coming up with nastier ways to remind a forgetful Whitebred of his old friends. Mary let it roll, then turned to Lek.
“What you think?”
“He wins this war by killing a billion people, there's gonna be a lot of eager folks that want his hide. Powers that be'll wrap him in a wall of security sunshine can't get through without a retina scan and strip-search. Take it from an old cracker and hacker. He don't want to see you again. He don't.”
That quieted the kids.
“What worries me is whether this stunt will end the war,” Mary said slowly. “I've been up to my eyeballs in war for six months. I don't want no more of it. You been there with me. Would this scare the shit and surrender out of you, or make you mad enough to never quit fighting?”
“Like we was when Blacky and Amy got popped” came a quiet voice from behind Dumont.
“I don't think this admiral's spent any more time in uniform than us. You think he really knows what them colonials will do?”
Dumont was uncomfortable with that one. “I don't know how long he's been Navy. Who knows how good he is? But he's got us here, and the colonials by the balls.”
“Guy don't talk much about Navy stuff,” one of the girls drawled. “He's all the time bragging. All of it's business.”
“He talks when he's screwing you” came from the back.
“All you guys brag when you're screwing,” she snapped back, “and you all a bunch of liars.”
Mary couldn't afford to lose them to another catcalling contest. “Du, Whitebred's as green as we are. He's guessing. That old guy that went up against him. He was forty years Navy. Lek here's been in the mines for forty years. If he says it can be done, you can bet on it. If he says it's a bad idea, I want out of the way.” A chorus of “Me too” and “You bet” backed her up.
“Well, Whitebred didn't exactly give me time to play five questions with the old fart. Boss man said joke him, I did the joke.” Dumont was defending himself, no longer Whitebred.
Mary tried one more slice. “Dumont, there's a billion faceless people, and rocks are cheap, and people die real quick under them. Once we do it, who's gonna do it next? I left some friends behind on Pitt's Hope. How long before some crew with a ship full of rocks is looking down on them as a bunch of faceless enemies? You must have left some people you care about.”
“Only person I care about is me” came from the back. This time nobody echoed him.
“Mary,” Dumont said slowly, “the only folks I care about are right here. A mom or a dad are things other people got, not me. Mary, you could be right, but then again, you could be dead wrong. This is the one chance anybody's ever handed me in my life. I can't piss it away. Maybe Whitebred's like everybody else and can't be trusted. But maybe he can. I got to try.” His voice went loud. “We
got to try.”
“Yes!” hissed from a dozen lips.
“You gonna turn me in to the admiral?” Mary asked. “Shoot me for him?”
“No! No way, Mary. You may be an old lady, but you're us. Gang don't turn in a sister. Marines don't shoot marines.”
That got an enthusiastic response from Dumont's choir.
Mary weighed what Dumont had given her. Marines don't kill marines. Good start. But half the platoon wants done what the other half wants stopped! How do I make everyone happy this time? Guess this is what the corps calls a leadership challenge. How do I lead troops in both directions?
Mary spoke slowly. “Okay, Du, here's where you and your kids get to show us how good you are. The miners are going to try to stop the bombing. You catch one of them out of line, I take them off the duty roster and lock 'em down here. Admiral don't have to know why. Same for Navy types. Turn them in to me and I'll see they get put under hack.”
Dumont looked around. There were a lot of smiles from his kids. “Mary, we been joking with the man's stuff on the streets for years and none of us got caught. We'll spot you first try.”
“I don't think you will, but we'll know tomorrow.”
“Okay. Mary, this has got to be even up. Half the admiral's guards are from my side, and we shoot to keep him safe. I want most of the guards on the magazine and the launcher to be my people. Deal?”
“Deal,” Mary said.
Her comm link beeped. Everyone in the room quit breathing. Mary let it ring. On the third, she slapped the key. “This better be fucking good,” she growled sleepily, “ 'cause he was the best dream I've had in months.”
There was a long pause. “Ah, Captain, the camera is out in your bunk room,” the admiral said slowly. “I just wondered if anything was wrong.”
“Damn thing fell off the wall a while back when we hit a bump. We were all half asleep. Damn near shot it to pieces. If you want, Admiral, I'll leave my mike open and you can listen to us snore,” Mary added helpfully.
“No! Not necessary.” Whitebred tumbled over his words. “Everything's okay. Go back to sleep.” His line died.
“You want that for a friend,” Lek observed dryly.
“Never had a suit for a friend. Don't know what they're good for,” Dumont answered slowly.
“A billion dead people,” Cassie snapped. Mary shot her a glance. They can't hear you on that one, old girl. We got what we want. Don't push.
* * * *
“Captain”—Thor breathed a sigh of relief—”you ask me to do that again and I swear, I'll get out and walk home.” The bridge crew laughed; they'd done good. Sheffield’s nose ice was down to millimeters. Engineering had red-lined the engines for the last hour, pushing them toward the planet they'd missed by a fraction of a heartbeat. Dozens of people could have ended the mission with one slip-up. No one was suicidal.
“We've done great, folks, so let's get some sleep. Tomorrow will be another busy day.” We kill a billion people, or we don't. No ties allowed.
As he entered his quarters, his chair beeped. “Kids have not bought in. Consider all young marines hostile. However, the admiral is out of the loop. If one of your people is tagged, you must take her off the watch. Call me if you more info.”
So, no more people get killed. Some marines were friendly, some were not, and Mary hadn't had time to give him a program. For what he had in mind, he didn't need one. He used channel Lek 23 to call Chief Aso.
“Chief, we've got an oversight here. Bomb and loader were all designed for twelve gees—assuming a five hundred pound bomb. We got five thousand pounders, and at three gees we're in trouble. We reinforced the magazine, but I'm not satisfied with the work on the loader and the bomb thrower. You got a welder you can trust in some heavy work?”
“Dan from the Maggie signed over. What you got in mind, Skipper?”
Mattim told him. The chief beamed.
* * * *
The phone in their room rang as Ray finished his oatmeal. Rita tapped the speaker phone. It was not the colonel. A major general beamed at them. “Major, you are included in today's briefing. It will begin at thirteen hundred hours. Be early. The president is very interested in what kind of fight the forces of Wardhaven will give the Earth invaders. Please include a full table of organization and deployment.”
“Yes sir,” Ray snapped.
“See you then.” The general switched off.
“Today,” Rita breathed.
“Captain.” Ray was all mission. “We have the required data?”
“Yes sir.”
“Let us redo our briefing,” Ray sighed as if it mattered.
“Yes, sir.”
Rita went to lay out his uniform ... and hers.
* * * *
Mattim called damage control first thing next morning using Lek 23. “We've reinforced the magazine, and it's taken the pounding. You've done some work on the loader and accelerator. I'd like to reinforce that. A two-and-a-half-ton rock loose is a hell of a lot of damage to control.”
“Yes, sir,” Commander Gandhi said. “I'll put a work chit in right away with your priority on it.”
“I'd rather my name wasn't on the chit.”
“No problem, sir.” Tina didn't bat an eyelash. “I like a skipper who lets his people do their job.”
“Thank you, Commander. One more thing. Chief Aso handled my toughest welding problems on the old Maggie . I don't think gunnery would mind you pulling him off for this.”
“What with all the high gees and bouncing the Sheffield’s been taking, I can use all the help I can get. Will do.” If the commander was part of a conspiracy, she hadn't showed it. Nor had she missed a line.
“Have at it, Commander.”
* * * *
Mary worked up the Order of the Day for her detachment with Dumont at her elbow. She would assign one, he would assign one.
“I get command at the rock slinger,” Dumont said.
“We share that one.” Mary finished the list. “Assignments are for all day. Chow will be catch as catch can.”
“We're gonna stop you.”
Mary pursed her lips. “We'll see.”
* * * *
Mattim did a morning walk-about. The crew was nervous.
“Is it true, sir, our armor ain't no thicker than frost on the freezer?” Hassan asked as he gave Mattim two pancakes.
“Never saw any frost on your reefer, you old belly robber.” Mattim dodged the question. As he made his rounds, matters did not improve. The Sheffield showed the effect of high gees and close encounters. The crew went about their duties slowly, as the three gees required, tackling the worst of it. No one met his eyes. He almost skipped the launcher bay, but he always stopped there, and today could not be an exception. Mary's cart was parked in the center of the bay, the young sergeant who'd shot Guns at her elbow. Around the bay, six teams of marines traveled in pairs, one young, the other showing a touch of gray, the beginning of a paunch. So that's the way it is.
“Got everything under control, Captain Rodrigo?”
“Yes sir.” She saluted. So did the sergeant. His eyes were hard, measuring, as if he* expected Mattim to produce a wrench and unbolt the launcher. Mattim ignored him and turned his cart in a slow circle, taking in the work crews scattered around the bay. “Lot of maintenance will need doing when this is over. We can't wait to fix this.”
“Your crew better be fixing what they touch,” the sergeant growled. “I got marines looking over every shoulder.”
“Good.” Mattim smiled. “Better job you marines do, the less the admiral will worry. And I don't like worried bosses.” Still smiling, Mattim ended his circle facing the sergeant. Let the poor bastard figure out what's coming down. I ain't paid to teach. Turning to leave, he had to fight to keep the smile on his face. A bunch of Navy security guards escorted in a work team. The tiny middie rolled up the rear. How'd she get out of the brig? What's she doing here?
She glanced his way ... and winked.
&n
bsp; “Captain.” Mattim's comm snapped in the admiral's voice. “I want you in my quarters. Immediately.”
“Yes sir.”
* * * *
At exactly 0945, Ray was uniformed, bemedalled, and shined. The batteries in his walker were fresh, and the briefcase waited in Santiago's hands. The official limousine arrived on the dot.
The sergeant driver opened the door ... and then closed it. “My orders are for two officers. Who is she?” Ray could not tell if the driver's disapproval was for Rita, or the tight cut of her uniform. Ray opened his mouth, but Rita got there first.
“I am Senior Pilot Officer Mrs. Longknife. I will accompany my husband. And while I may have to wait in the car with you, Sergeant, I've just got to be there to hear everything he has to say after he meets the President.” The stiff officer segued into a gushing girl that got a smile out of even the sergeant.
“Well, I guess it's okay.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Ray said.
As the limo moved off, Ray leaned back in the plush seat. He was prepared to meet the President—and any other god who took an interest in today's hard duty.
* * * *
“Captain, despite what you may think of me, I am not totally lacking in human qualities. I just sent a message to the rebel forces on Wardhaven inviting them to surrender. I informed them if they do not, we will destroy all major cities on Wardhaven no sooner than twelve hours from now.”
“They've already refused to surrender,” Mattim risked.
“And their government will refuse this one. They don't think we have the guts. That will be the last miscalculation they ever make. But”—Whitebred shared another smile with Stuart that made Mattim's skin crawl—”it will be upon their heads. I offered them peace. They spurned it.”
“Some colonials may not see it that way,” Mattim risked.
“There're always some who can't get with the program. Dinosaurs die, Captain. Pity, but they die. Dismissed.”
Mattim returned to the bridge. “Anything, Ding?”
“Nothing I can't handle, sir.”
Mattim rolled up beside her. “You're making me feel un-needed, Exec.”
“I never noticed that captains were all that needed. Ship's holding up, but we'll need some major yard time when we're done.”