by T. D. Wilson
“Is that your training or your gut talking, Lieutenant?”
“Both.”
Hood’s comm band buzzed and he checked the ID. It was McGregor. “This is Hood.”
“Captain, it wasn’t us.” McGregor spelled out the details of his investigation into the information leak to Hood and Maya. He had interviewed each Marine and the communications team at the site. “I stand by each Marine’s story. Kingston had to come by it another way.”
Hood’s mind went over the possibilities, and more doubts about Epherium’s experiment arose. Could dormant personality traits bleed through? The Armstrong communications team had no record of any communications from the main camp to Kingston’s people after their arrival. So how did he know about the Cilik’ti? He needed to talk to his uncle about it, but that meant informing him of the Embrace’s effects. He was in a bad spot, and he didn’t like it one bit.
Maya started to walk up the shuttle ramp. “Information was the main facet of Descherra’s empire.” Her tone was ripe with I told you so. “He and his people were very adept at digging up information and selling it to interested parties. They didn’t care who they had to step on to acquire it.” She leaned over the railing. “I know you’re impressed with that ship, but there’s one more thing you should consider. There was another vessel that bore the name Calypso.”
“Really, what was it?”
“A transport ship that made weekly runs from Jupiter Orbital to the Belt stations,” Maya said, her voice no longer scolding him. But her face showed Hood something new—disgust. “It was Descherra’s floating brothel.”
* * *
Major McGregor leaned against a large table in the main storage building of the Magellan encampment and stared at a three-dimensional holographic image of the terrain around the two colony encampments. The Magellan had several imaging tables like this one. The research teams found them useful for noninvasive examinations of the local wildlife and rock formations. Most of the data the colonists had collected that was related to the terrain had come from the Magellan’s initial orbital decent or their rover patrols, but McGregor required more. His plans to defend this colony had to be solid. To make a defense against the Cilik’ti, even a rolling one, required distinct planning. Plus, it was essential to create a few extra options, just in case his plans dissolved and it all went to hell. He’d seen that before and too many young Marines had paid the price.
The imaging projection system on the table was old compared to the latest EDF standards, but it still provided McGregor a good view of the terrain rendered from the original data. McGregor plugged in a new data card, full of data collected by the Armstrong’s new satellite grid, and waited for the imager to access the new information. It took a few moments for the image to process the data, and soon several new layers of the Cygni terrain map were at his disposal.
The table’s imager provided a strong light source in the dimly lit building. McGregor could have used the imagers on board the Armstrong, but he wanted to be close to his projected battlefield. Here he could image the terrain and step outside to see it firsthand. Working at night at the encampment ensured he wouldn’t be interrupted with the busy commerce that trafficked the building and his field glasses could give him a visual that could mimic one in daylight.
McGregor added new layers of terrain to the map and didn’t notice Jonathan Hood enter the room.
“Good evening, Major.”
McGregor didn’t respond and kept working on the terrain laid out before him.
Jonathan waited a moment and then walked over to the imager. “One of my staff told me you were over here, but I’m surprised to see you didn’t head back to the Armstrong with the others, or at least curl up in a bunk somewhere at this time of night.”
“Nay, Commander.” McGregor said, his eyes still focused on the terrain image. He typed another command on the table’s keypad, and the image shifted as additional layers were added underneath the top level of the terrain. “I’ve got a lot of work to do to make this colony defensible.” Satisfied the images were in place, McGregor turned to face the leader of the Cygni colony. “Commander, I know we plan to train some of your people, but that isn’t enough. My men are an advance force. Until a more permanent detachment arrives and better defenses are put in place, we have to make do if the Tikis come callin’.” He snorted out a quick laugh. “Besides, after Mars, I don’t sleep much anyway.”
Jonathan smiled at the Marine’s joke. “I’ve learned a fraction of what happened out there from my nephew. Once things slow down, I’d like to get more details if you’re up to sharing,” he said and reviewed the images projected by the table. Jonathan closed his eyes and his voice softened. “Gina and I had friends on Mars. I’m not even sure they’re still alive.”
“Maybe.” Anguish began to fill McGregor’s heart. He lowered his head and stared at the floor. “Much of what happened there during the invasion is painful to talk about, let alone to explain to someone else.”
Jonathan studied the image for a moment and then changed the subject. “I’ve been thinking about how we can protect ourselves ever since James’s speech. The mountains here provide us some good protection, but the terrain to the east is more open and I doubt the patchy forest areas are going to cause the Cilik’ti any problems. What do you think, Major?”
McGregor snapped his head back toward the map and focused in on his primary mission goal. “On Mars, we used trenches and the extensive subterranean caverns to move around and hit them. I think we can use the same here to protect our civies against an assault and buy us time.” He pressed another button, and the top layer of forest and mountains disappeared from the terrain image. “Our satellite seismic imaging captured the outline of a winding set of caves that follow the underground river toward the lake. We know there are cave entrances by that canyon you mentioned to the west, and I believe there are more in the base of that plateau by the lake.” McGregor pointed to several areas along the route between the mountains and the lake. “If we stash supplies and weapons at several key junctions down there, it would give your people some safe havens while any fighting happens on the surface. The caves are deep enough to protect ya from topside life scans and the caverns should make it tougher for the Tikis to reach ya.”
“How can we make this happen?”
“What I need is a group of gung ho cave explorers to map the caves and find those safe spots. Ya know anyone who can do it?”
Jonathan smiled. “I have a crack Geology team. Most of them have spent significant time in the field in caves of some sort. They’re all natural spelunkers and I bet they’d be itching for a chance to get down there.”
“Good. I need some of my men to go with ’em. There may be things down there like we haven’t seen yet and I don’t want ’em to go unprotected.” McGregor enhanced the cave images closer to the Magellan. “The faster we get moving on this, the better. I recommend your people start surveying the plateau and ya make contact with your people already in that canyon.”
“We can start that first thing in the morning.” Jonathan stretched and gave a loud yawn. “Major, I’m no expert, but even with setting up defenses, wouldn’t the Cilik’ti just pound us from the air?”
McGregor grunted. “Not if our flyboys out there do their jobs.” He reset the terrain map and installed a detailed grid pattern that overlaid the entire area. He pointed to three places around the main encampment on the edges of the mountains and along the higher plateau region just north of the lake to the east. “From our intel on the Tikis’ tech, their drones aren’t worth spit in heavy atmospheres like this, but it’s their assault craft we need to watch out for.”
McGregor could see the worry on Jonathan’s face. “How dangerous are they?”
“They’re tough and can pound ya hard,” McGregor stressed. “But the Tikis have a weird order to things. They like their armor and
any well-defended target will make sure they bring it. And I know how.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“I’ve fought the Tikis on Mars and two moons of Saturn, Commander. I know what it takes to beat them.” McGregor changed the scale on the map and added the Magellan and local colonists’ dwellings. He was confident he had the layout correct. He explained that the Cilik’ti would find a safe location to drop their troops and use their powerful assault craft as low-level air cover. He gritted his teeth. Despite his best placement of air defenses, Cilik’ti landers in a large assault would find a way to the surface. He just had to make sure they landed where he wanted them.
McGregor studied the lightly forested area to the southeast that lay between the two encampments and the two areas of low-sloped hills just to the north. He pointed to the forest. “If we could use our air defenses and force them to land there, we’d have a better chance of hittin’ ’em as they come to us. The terrain’s uneven and it’ll slow down some of their larger equipment.” He circled the two hilly locations. “These other two locations give them easy treks up both camps. If we stack the decks there, we could force ’em to go where we want ’em.”
Jonathan gave McGregor a skeptical look. “That if seems pretty big, Major.”
“Aye,” McGregor answered with laugh, “I’m all for a stand-up fight, but this beats having ’em land on top of us. Besides, the first rule of ground combat is to know your ground. The second is to get your adversary to fight on your terms.”
“I thought the first rule was to get a bigger gun.”
“Heh,” the Marine joked. “That’s just cheatin’. A bigger gun might just hurt ya more than ’em.” He glanced back at the gridded areas around the forest. “If we do this right, we could make ’em pay for every inch they move to get to us.”
As they spoke, McGregor noticed a device beside one of the racks on the hall that he hadn’t noticed before. A sign next to it read Mag Lift. He picked up a crate from a nearby cart, placed it on the lift’s pad and pressed a button on the control pad. He watched the crate levitate until the overhead clamp for that particular shelf latched on to the crate and moved it down the row.
McGregor tapped the edge of the lift’s control pad with his thumb for a few seconds. “Commander, how heavy of an object can these Mag Lifts handle?”
Jonathan thought about the question for a moment. “I’d say at least four metric tons. We used them to bring down gear off the back loading bay on the Magellan when its ramp buckled, so they’re pretty resilient. Their field generators can focus almost thirty meters before they become too unstable, so they really helped us out. They’re kind of a power hog, but I had them added to the ship since they were lower weight and fewer moving parts than conventional lifts. Why do you ask?”
“The Tikis have some nifty threat detection gear.” McGregor hit the activation switch on the control pad again and listened to the slight hum it produced. “We tried at least a hundred different ways to plant mines and explosives along their paths, and they managed to find and disable or destroy every single one.” He turned off the pad and went back to the image projected over the table. “Can they be moved and hooked up to portable generators?”
“Oh yeah,” Jonathan replied. “They’re easy to move and set up. I can have one of my guys show you how to manage them.”
“I need someone who knows ’em inside and out. I have an idea and it will require some special modifications.” McGregor narrowed his eyes as he stared at the main encampment and envisioned what an all-out assault from the Cilik’ti might entail. He had been hopeful too many times in his encounters with the Cilik’ti on the ground. He needed an edge. The MACE units would help to even the odds, but he only had a limited number. If the Cilik’ti came in force, he was certain he would need every advantage to stop them.
Jonathan stretched and yawned again. “Well, it’s late and I’m going to turn in. Is there anything else you need my people to help you with?”
“Materials.” McGregor picked up a small, dark metal plate and handed it to Jonathan. “This is our standard neutronium armor plate. I have plenty on board the Armstrong that will come down tomorrow, but I need materials planet-side to make the high-density concrete for the underlying fortifications.”
Jonathan handed the heavy plate back to McGregor. “No problem. Get me a list of the essentials, and we can help you find them.” He pointed toward the imaging table. “What fortifications do you think we’ll require?”
McGregor returned to the table and used the imager controls to add in his fortification plans. Each emplacement had a purpose and an easy egress route to a fallback position in case it was destroyed or the position overrun. The final piece was a large structure that straddled the primary entrance to the main encampment. The building was a fortress in itself and could be assembled in a few days from the supplies on board the Armstrong. McGregor had used these armored command bases during the latter part of the Mars campaign, and their value for protection and armament were superb.
McGregor inspected his final layout for both encampments and gave his approval. He had one armored fortress and the logical place for it was near the Magellan. If the Cilik’ti hit, the lake camp needed to get underground. Their position was too open for a lasting defense without superior numbers, but he knew the primary target would be the huge colony ship parked near the mountain and not the lake. If he could keep their attention here, the colonists had a chance.
“Impressive,” Jonathan stated. “Everything James shared with me about these aliens shows them to be determined and superior warriors. I worry about my people, Major. If the Cilik’ti show and start a fight, things could go bad fast. I pray that it won’t come to that, but Lord save us if it does.”
Jonathan and McGregor stared in silence at the image of the colony and McGregor’s planned fortifications. Neither one spoke until Jonathan stretched his arms over his head and released a long and loud yawn. “It’s getting late. I’m going to turn in. We’ll get on those supplies for you in the morning.” Jonathan waved goodbye, but McGregor didn’t notice.
McGregor watched the man walk out the door and head down the path away from the building. What are our chances? He’d asked himself that question every morning as the Armstrong traveled out to this new world, and each time he threw it out of his head. “Drivel!” Every day he had to prepare, the colony’s chances improved and even if the Cilik’ti didn’t come, his mission would be a success. He pounded his fist down on the table and gazed upward. Aye, I know I don’t talk to ya much, Lord, and I ain’t apologizing for it. I’ve fought these devils in over a hundred battles and it’s going to take more stones than any Tiki has to knock me off this rock.
He shook his head and sighed. But if a prayer’s in order, just watch out for Hood and those flyboys up there. He’s got more respect for ya anyway. And if I’m right, we’re going to need their help to give us cover. He smacked his fist into his open palm. For me, I think I got this one sorted.
* * *
Hood shuffled into his quarters, unbuttoned his jacket and slumped into the chair at his desk. The day had been a long one to be sure, but not without a strong list for the colony’s success column. Hood rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, wrestling with the exhaustion, when he noticed a covered plate in the center of his desk.
Hood leaned closer to the plate and then glanced back toward the open closet next to his bed. Sure enough, his clean and pressed uniform hung on the outside of the closet door, ready for the next day.
Hood smiled and opened the plate’s cover. Inside he found fresh berries, a cup of yogurt and two large chocolate chip cookies. He snatched one of the cookies, took a bite of the chewy delicious treat and tried to melt into his chair. Mr. Martin doesn’t disappoint.
Hood was beginning to adjust to having an aide. During his previous commands, personnel and space were so pr
ioritized. His new posting on the Armstrong had gained him a new title, Flag Officer. It was ceremonious, but Admiral Tramp had taken it one step further. It seemed all flag officers required some sort of aide to help with menial tasks, while they focused more on command issues. Hood hadn’t been happy with it at first and he could hear the old man laughing at him in his head, but now he had to admit that the idea of an aide was growing on him.
Hood was just about to close his eyes when his terminal beeped. It was Lieutenant Wells. He set down the cookie, sat up in his chair and opened the comm channel. “This is Hood. What is it, Lieutenant?”
Wells’s voice was hesitant. “It’s Mr. McCraken, sir.”
Hood dropped his head and sighed. “All right. What does he want this time?”
“He, uh, is still in protective custody, but now that we’ve arrived at Cygni, he’s requesting permission to visit the planet.”
Hood had forgotten about McCraken and the fact he was still in Greywalker’s brig. Maya had put the Epherium Corporation’s liaison into protective custody ever since the Armstrong’s catastrophic jump into the asteroid field. McCraken had revealed to him and to some of the command staff the secrets behind the Embrace technology and Epherium’s colony ship program. Even with Commander Walsh’s escape in the confusion, Maya believed his life to be in danger. She was adamant that McCraken was still holding back information, despite his objections to the contrary.
Hood knew Epherium would want to interview the Magellan’s crew, start their project of planetary resource analysis and investigate if their experiment with the colonists had worked. “Very well, Lieutenant. Inform Mr. McCraken he may accompany the medical staff down in the morning. They’re planning to do screens of the colonists and discuss any harmful bacteria or infectious disease information with the colony’s chief of medicine.”
“Aye, sir. I’ll tell him. He’s also asked to be released to his quarters.”