“Yes Ma'am, we do,” Randolph nodded. “While we don't expect anything major we should at least watch for raids on our borders.”
“Very well. Marston, take a note,” the President addressed her personal VI system. “Inform Space Force Command to go to DefCon 4 for all units on the border worlds and step up patrols until the Rasenni leadership returns to normal.”
“Acknowledged, Madam President. Orders transmitted.”
“So gentlemen, is there anything else to discuss?”
“Just one thing sir, though it kind of relates to our earlier topic,” Randolph said conversationally. “There's a motion in Congress for us to send observers to Toklamakun, check up on how the civilian population is doing.”
Solwyn frowned. That's more than halfway across the local arm. What's that got to do with us, Thomas?” the President asked. “Anyway, didn't that blow over a year ago?”
“Yes Ma'am, it did,” Randolph agreed. “But since then we haven't heard anything from the planet beyond the initial reports, which were not pleasant. Senator Williams and a few others are concerned for the population under the Dominion's occupation, and apparently a lot of the Pact's worlds feel the same way.”
The president furrowed her brows and rubbed her forehead. A number of Makani had escaped the occupation and formed a resistance group operating from Érenni space. They were constantly asking for help and telling lurid stories of torture and death to anyone willing to listen. The Dominion of course denied these stories were holding any truth. Solwyn didn't really believe either side. Lies were an integral part of wars and politics. Even so, Dominion-controlled space was a long way away and it served the Union little to go nosing into the affairs of other races.
“I'd be willing to look at sending aid shipments, though I doubt the Ashani would allow it. But I don't want to send our people into a hostile situation uninvited. We don't have to like the Dominion's conquest of that system but we've got to accept the political realities as they present themselves, and those are that Toklamakun is there territory now.”
“I agree, Madam President. Too much of a risk, too much potential fallout for too little gain,” Director Campbell echoed.
“I believe Senator Williams would disagree. He'd say there are billions of sentients in peril on Aeta and Toklamakun,” Randolph said.
“I'm certain Mr. Williams' constituents would welcome it if he paid them as much attention as he apparently does to a people we have nothing to do with some fifteen hundred light-years or more away,” Solwyn scoffed. Hernando William's brand of humanitarian interventionism had good intentions but somehow always ended with good people who had nothing to do with the places it was all about getting killed. That was the very kind of trouble Jennifer Solwyn sought to avoid.
“Is State saying we should intervene?” Campbell asked plainly, focusing on the gentlemanly southern politician.
Randolph shook his head and grimaced. “I genuinely don't know. I do believe we have a duty to the galaxy and its inhabitants as we have to all living things in God's creation. Still, at the same time we don't want a confrontation with the Ashani over something that's more or less a concluded affair. I advise waiting at least until the Rasenni situation stabilizes. Then we can perhaps make discreet inquiries.”
“Your suggestion is noted.” The president rose from her chair. “Now, if you'll excuse, ladies and gentlemen, I still have a lunch with a grumpy husband and two even grumpier kids to finish. The Rasenni got nothing on that trio!”
Camp MacArthur
Commonwealth of Mars, North American Union.
June 2797 C.E.
Lee rocked on the balls of her feet as she stood outside the barracks, out in the wide open under Camp MacArthur's own dome. Above her and truly outside the familiar red and orange sky of Mars extended as far as the eye could see. It was a sight she never grew tired of. Samantha had been born in a quaint fishing village on the West Coast, the only daughter of two fiercely proud, entrenched locals who had been with one another since High School. Despite the misgivings about her choice of 'work' she considered them a perfect example of what a relationship should be. Sure, like every couple they fought and argued. But in the end they always made up because they knew they were better off together than apart.
Emulating that sense of ultimately solid, unshakable harmony was easier said than done. Her parents worked in the same trade, at the same place, owning a small restaurant and a fishing boat operated by her three saltwater-baptized cousins. They did everything together.
Sammy didn't have that luxury. She wasn't her own master. That role fell to the NAU's High Command and the office of the Union's president. She went where they told to her go. As they had done again today.
A few hours ago Colonel Victor Mukaba had informed the regiment they were being redeployed to the outer colonies. As soon as he had been done the entire base had gone for their tablets and phones, even for the community center's consoles to place calls to their relatives and friends telling them the bad news.
Samantha stared down at the tablet she absentmindedly held in her own hands. She didn't want to make the call. Being on Mars together had been great for her and Natasha's marriage. They were both close to the kids and actually had something resembling a normal life together. In the five years they had been on Mars the regiment had only had to move off planet twice, and that had been for war games that took only a few weeks. But as far as she had understood the issue at hand this would be different. A Rasenni succession could take months, sometimes even years. And they didn't send out an outfit like the 'Iron Ten-Twenty' when they didn't fear the going was to get rough. It'd break up their little happy family, and she felt no urgency to cement the fact by revealing it to her loved ones. She dreaded the look of hurt on Natasha's face as much as she dreaded the feeling seeing it would give her. Sammy would have preferred to do this in person. After all, Natasha and the kids were only half the city away from her! But leave had been canceled even for those known to have local roots as the regiment was preparing to move out. The army didn't pay her enough for this. But it had to be done.
With a sense of resigned finality she touched the comm field on her tablet. Only seconds later the military logo blinked off to reveal a warmly lit room with some modest furniture in the background. The top of a dark haired head was just visible on the screen.
“Hi Michael!” Samantha laughed at the sight. “How you doing little fella?”
“Sammy!” he shouted in excitement.
“What have you been doing today? How was school?”
“Okay, Sammy,” her son answered. “We went into the holotank. Mr. Rogers let us move through a full representation of Rome at the time of Julius Caesar!”
“No kidding? That sounds awesome!”
“Sure was. We even got to see some gladiators fight!”
“Well, as long as he didn't have you fellas fight!” Samantha laughed. “Where's Natasha?”
“Making dinner. Hey mom!” the kid yelled with a startlingly loud voice. “Sammy's on the comm!”
“You keep up with your studies, young man, and I'll promise we'll go canyon hiking again,” Samantha grinned.
“Will you be home tonight?”
“No, buddy. The important people have a job for me and my friends to do,” Samantha smiled with more sincerity than warmth. “I might be out of town for a week or two. You be a good boy and maybe I'll have something special for you when I'm back home, 'kay?”
“Sure thing, Sammy. Hey, Natasha's here!”
The child was replaced by his biological mother Natasha. Her long dark hair and blue eyes always made Sammy's heart jump a little, an effect that even thirteen years of marriage hadn't been able to subdue.
“Hi there, sweetheart,” she grinned like a school girl, but there was a sad note in it. “How are you today?”
“Pretty good. Was able to get home early and do some of the tasks from here over the web. Not that I'm complaining about seeing your chiseled face, but you
usually don't call during the day. Has something happened?” she said concernedly.
Sammy avoided her eyes. “We've just gotten orders to move out, Nati. We're going to transfer to Olympus Mons tonight.”
“Where to?” she asked calmly.
Sammy could see the pain in her eyes, and felt it too. She wanted to say something to comfort her. Instead she just answered Natasha's question. “McKenna Station. That's Orion colony. I can't say a lot more but it's just garrison duty. I promise I'll call you every day.”
“From the other side of Union space?” her partner sighed. “Damn it Sammy, you'll be light-years away from home!”
“Nati, I can't help where they send me. I'm pretty damn annoyed about it, too!” In fact she felt a lot more strongly about it but was careful to watch her language with their son in earshot.
“How long will you be gone? Will you even be back for Christmas?” Natasha demanded.
“I sincerely doubt I'll be away that long, my love. At least, I hope so, but you know what the army's like.”
“Yeah, that I do,” Natasha grimaced before her face went blank. “Are you going into battle?” There was a slight waver in her voice.
“No Nati, absolutely not. Don't worry about that.” Easier said than done. “We have no enemies, and Orion is a big, established place with a pretty solid fleet presence. It's perfectly safe. Look, they haven't canceled any of our normal holiday leave. If nothing unforeseen happens I'll be back home with you guys in two months or so, so don't worry. They can't hold us at the ass end of nowhere for no good reason for too long. That means I'm still on for Christmas, even if means I have to steal a Tuathaan raider to get here. I'll be home for the party, that's a promise.”
“You swear it, Sammy?” she asked solemnly, holding in her emotions. “You swear you'll be back here for your son?”
Lee had no hesitation. “I swear it! Whatever happens, I'll be back for Christmas. Hey Mikey, you hear that?”
The young child cheered, causing a shared smile from his parents.
“Look Nati, I gotta go. There are still a thousand things to be done before we ship out tonight. It'll be a fortnight's journey to the colony. I'll call you from Orion colony the moment I'm in range of a public comm spot. You'll look after things, okay?”
“We'll be here waiting,” she smiled sadly. “Keep safe, Sammy.”
“Love to you both,” she reached out to touch the tablet's screen. On the other end of the connection her holographic projection reached out with her, and Natasha leaned into her hand. It nearly choked Samantha up. A single tear ran down her cheek.
“Love to you, tiger.”
“Bye Sammy!” called little Michael, then the transmission ended.
Samantha leaned back against the barracks and just stood there for a while, trying to reconcile her conflicting feelings of happiness and sadness. She was proud of her family, more so than anything else in the universe. They kept her going. Her bond with the men and women in her squad was something unique and unbreakable. They were like brothers and sisters to her, but her feelings for her family were something on a whole different level. Whatever happened she would keep her promise.
Olympus Mons Military Spaceport.
Twenty-four Hours Later
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Colonel Victor Mukaba drawled. The son of Angolan immigrants could just as well have been the offspring of South Carolina natives. “Now that we're all paced and ready to go I can reveal our particular postings.”
The departure room of the port was crammed with marpat clad troops from the 'Iron Ten-Twenty' regiment. Each was hauling their kit in a huge pack and carryall while stacks of crates farther down the hall held their various weapons and, most importantly, their combat suits. The 1020th was specialized to operate in hostile environments and conduct decisive spearhead operations, even on worlds that would kill most of Earth's higher life forms in a matter of minutes, if not just seconds. The regiment was equipped with state of the art equipment, from its weapons down to the little plastic knobs on their belts that reshaped their form according to what piece of gear you wanted to attach to them. The centerpieces of the units were of course the powered combat suits, hulking bipedal pieces of armor equipped with large-caliber railguns, grenade launchers and missile packs.
“The higher ups have decreed that we will be assigned fleet protection duty,” Mukaba continued. The announcement was met with groans. Fleet protection meant the regiment would be split up to be assigned as security details to NAU warships. Technically that was the job of the Marines, but there was a gray area between the duties the 1020th performed and the duties of the Marine Corps – which nobody in the army liked. Some buffoons back on Earth had supposedly explained it as 'synergy effects' and 'cross training' the units for different roles. The truth needed less flowery administrative prose: there just weren't enough Marines to go around so the army took up the slack. And, admittedly, a combat suit operating regiment rated for Zero-G and vacuum ops did kinda fit the bill.
“First Battalion, first Company, listen up!” the Colonel read of a list. “When we arrive these will be your assignments. Alpha Platoon gets to enjoy the hospitality of the Leyte-class heavy cruiser JOHNSTON. Beta Platoon, your ride will be the GEARING. And Gamma Platoon goes to the AUSTIN, may God have mercy on her.”
Lee grinned with the rest of her platoon, and not only at the jibe the old man had taken at the company's most unruly unit. The Leyte-class were fairly new long endurance vessels meant to keep their crews in space for months, patrolling the borders. That meant they actually had the facilities to house an outfit like Alpha Company. It wouldn't be a five star hotel, but her gut told her she could have drawn a worse destination.
The worst assignment was corvettes or frigates, short range vessels with barely enough space to move and constant noise as the little ships' power plants tried to keep them moving. The same could be said for dreadnoughts, even though for different reasons. The big boys were meant for maximum battlefield impact, not endurance. There wasn't a cubic foot aboard a dreadnought that wasn't in some way or form meant to make it an even meaner fu... fellow. Yeah, a cruiser assignment was just fine.
Lee heard a few more names as the Colonel read out the rest of the regiment's assignments. There were a few more cruisers' names that she recognized, like the SAVANNAH and the DETROIT, older light cruisers of the Altair-class. Charlie Company wasn't quite as lucky, and she sympathized when she heard the names ROOSEVELT, KINNAMON and GRANT, three dreadnoughts of the Union-class. Still, the lack of fortune for her comrades didn't dampen her mood as and she the company were dismissed and went to the departure lounge to wait for their turn to takeoff.
Three hours later they were still waiting, which left Samantha decidedly grumpy. If they had to sit on their asses here anyways she could just as well have spent the time with her family! At least the departure hall came with the beautiful panoramic view of the towering volcano of Olympus Mons in the distance. She contented herself with just taking in that view.
Unfortunately the rest of the company was less easily placated and Lieutenant Jones, Lee's Platoon commander, had started a little quiz to keep them busy.
“Private Lee, why don't you answer this one?”
“Sir?” she blinked and focused on the officer. Jones was a good man and respected, but sometimes a little too enthusiastic for her taste.
“The question was what is the range on your carbine?” the officer said kindly, and the rest of the platoon turned their eyes to watch her.
“The M80's effective range against other armored infantry is fifteen hundred meters under standard atmospheric pressure.”
“Very good,” Jones nodded like a pleased school teacher. “How about rate of fire and ammunition capacity?”
“Rate of fire can be varied downwards, but the basic setting is four hundred rounds per minute. Standard clip size provides for sixteen hundred rounds, but the weapon can also use drum magazines with a four thousand round
capacity, sir.”
“You see, Sergeant Masters? Lee has all the answers!” Jones grinned at the platoon sergeant who simply nodded. The questions weren't over.
Samantha however returned to the view. The stark beauty of Mars with its red wastes and almost hidden signs of life having taken roots had captivated her almost as much as Natasha. Living out here often gave her the impression of being a sort of frontiersman, one of those few members of the human race that had chosen to carry life to the stars. The idea that somehow she was part of that select group who had pushed the boundaries, like the pioneers of the old west or the first space explorers, made her respect them even more, for the means they had had at their disposal had been primitive compared to hers.
There was a storm coming outside. It was still hundreds of kilometers away, but the flanks of the distant dormant volcano already saw the clouds of dust and rust-colored sand rise, the weather surging them into a front many kilometers high. A Martian storm made hurricanes on Earth feel positively puny. It was the stark contrast between the planet's usually so thin atmosphere and the sudden impression of its air having a true weight to itself that drove home the point of this being a whole different world. Sammy wouldn't have minded to stay here, on Mars, for the rest of her days. It was a good place to raise children, safer and less crowded than the megaplexes that dominated Earth itself.
She was pulled from her thoughts when the heavy figure of Captain Peter Madison, the company's commander, stalked powerfully towards the Alpha Platoon.
“Lieutenant Jones, report to bay ten! We're moving out.”
“Yes Captain,” Jones stopped his version of 'Who wants to be a Millionaire?' and saluted. “All right guys, you've heard the man. Get your gear and lets move. Quickly now, lets lead the way.”
“'Lead the way',” Private 'Grunt' Kayser grinned. “Lead the way to the departure terminal! Booyah!”
Opening Moves Page 10