As howls rang through the shuttle, the spacecraft lit up with a massive spike of energy and blasted forward at a thousand gravities.
The armor helmets slammed down, cutting off the noise, and Hansen’s armor powered up.
The pirates were doomed.
Alizon System
11:10 February 21, 2736 ESMDT
DSC-078 Avalon, Captain’s Breakout Room
“My understanding,” Admiral Alstairs noted, “is that transports should be back on their way by tomorrow morning. From our perspective, the pirates couldn’t have picked a better time to try and attack the Kaber system. We don’t normally have much in place to protect them.
“Once the Marines have arrived, we are expected to launch Rising Star almost immediately,” she concluded. “That still gives us a week and a half at minimum to get everything sorted on our side. Is that sufficient for everyone to get their deflectors up to full strength?”
The only response was nods from all of the new captains. Kyle was checking logistics as they were nodding. Alizon had enough missiles and other munitions to completely replenish Seventh Fleet, though not a lot more. Logistics this far away from the core Castle Federation and Coraline Imperium territories were more difficult than anyone liked.
There were enough replacement starfighters to get the fighter groups back up to strength, though he made a mental note to have Stanford touch base with the Imperial CAGs. Several of their starfighters had been destroyed stopping the final missile salvos, and not all of the escape pods had made it out. Alizon should be able to provide replacement crews…if the Imperials were willing to take them.
“We’re going to be out on the end of a long supply line,” Alstairs reminded everyone, as if reading his mind. “We can replenish fuel and missiles if we have time, but the demands of the offensive may not allow that. Watch your munitions use—positrons are cheaper than missile chassis.”
Most of the capital ships would have the ability to manufacture replacement munitions, so long as they could extract raw resources from somewhere. Even reaction mass could be drained from an available gas giant. Food was harder, often the biggest limitation on the ships’ endurance.
“If no one has further questions?” Alstairs glanced around the holographic “‘room’..” “If not, we have a lot of details to sort out, even if the Marines seem to be giving us a bit more time.”
Chapter 6
Kaber System
21:00 February 21, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
Morrison Hab Main Power Facility
Edvard Hansen leaned against the wall in what had been the main control center for the power facility, the helmet of his powered battle armor in his hands as he regarded Major Brahm, Third Battalion’s XO, levelly.
“We’re pulling out already?” he asked in disbelief. “Last download I had still showed pockets of resistance in the hab itself.”
“We’re Federation Marines, Edvard,” Brahm replied calmly. “And Kaber is an Imperial protectorate, not a Federation one. While the Coraline Imperium is grateful for our assistance etcetera, etcetera—and don’t get me wrong, Lord Captain Amelia Hermann was very grateful—Renown’s Imperial Marines should be able to take it from here. And we, as I doubt I need to remind you, Lieutenant Major, have somewhere else to be.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Edvard chorused flatly. “One of my men died to retake this plant. I’m not sure my company is going to be entirely happy to just…leave.”
“We lost twenty-six people all told, son,” the shaven-headed Major told him bluntly. “In trade, we saved one million, one hundred and twelve thousand, four hundred and ninety-two civilians and took just over four thousand pirates out of circulation. I’d hope your people would regard that as a win.”
“They will, sir,” Bravo Company’s commander replied. “Eventually. But if we’re on-station for less than twelve hours, it’s hard for that to sink in.”
“I know,” Brahm admitted. “Once we’re out of here and into Alcubierre, however, you are cleared to brief them on Rising Star. I suspect realizing we’re going to be taking back the systems the Commonwealth invaded will help morale.”
“It might,” Edvard admitted. The fight for the power plant had been anticlimactic. Most of the pirates hadn’t even had a chance to realize the Marines were coming, and the remainder had lacked weaponry able to penetrate the Marines’ armor. His one trooper had died to a pirate shooting a power conduit instead of her.
Brahm sighed, looking at him levelly. Both of them still wore their armored suits and carried their helmets. Edvard was suddenly very aware of the smell of aging blood that filled the room—the original control team had died at their stations when the pirates had boarded, and the pirates had joined them not long ago.
“Never lost a man before, have you?” he asked. “But you were at the Gulf?”
“Not under my command,” Edvard admitted. “We were…the lucky ones at Ansem Gulf. The second wave. Once Roberts had blasted the defenses clear, we had it easy.”
The Major grunted, looking around the room as if to make sure they were alone.
“Right reaction,” Brahm said slowly. “Right place, even. Never show it in front of the men. It hurts, son. And it should. But you can’t let it get in the way of doing your damned job; do you get me, Lieutenant Major?”
“Yes, sir,” Edvard replied. There was a little more conviction in his voice now, but not much more in his heart.
“We’re at war now, Hansen,” the XO reminded him. “We’re about to be on the front lines, the very tip of the spear. That’s where they send Marines.”
“That’s where they send Castle’s damned Marines, sir,” the younger man replied crisply. He wanted to be on those front lines. He’d had a cousin on Cora, an exchange student. So far as he knew, the girl was dead.
Brahm chuckled.
“Exactly,” he agreed. “We share enough tech that most of the Alliance has the same gear we do. The Imperium and the Star Kingdom train as hard as we do. But they don’t have our heart. Federation Marines are the tip for a reason. We earned it—but we also asked for it.”
Edvard said nothing. There wasn’t much for him to say.
“If it helps you, Lieutenant Major, you should know that we captured two of the pirate ships,” the XO told him. “One of them is what we thought it was—a Commonwealth Blackbeard-class Q-ship. We took it, we keep it. Your men don’t hear that, understand me? That we have that ship is now classified, and my understanding is that Command has plans for her.
“Plans our Marines’ deaths made possible,” Brahm concluded. “We don’t always know the answers, son. We don’t always know why we send our men to their deaths, and that’s the nature of war. But we do our job. Can you?”
“Do the job, sir?” Edvard asked. “Yes, sir. We’re Castle’s damned Marines, after all.”
22:30 February 21, 2736 ESMDT
AT-032 Chimera, Bravo Company Barracks
“Gunny,” Edvard greeted his senior NCO quietly when he found Gunnery Sergeant Jonas Ramirez waiting for him outside his company barracks. Ramirez was a dark-skinned weasel of a man, wiry and fast, but also smart as a whip and honest as a rock. “How’re the troops?”
“Grieving,” Ramirez said shortly. “Maybe…half a dozen of them have lost a comrade-in-arms before.”
Edvard looked at the door leading into the central bay for his Marines’ barracks. It wasn’t that thick of a door. He should have heard something from the other side, unless his Marines were being unusually quiet.
“It hurts,” he agreed. “How’re you doing, Gunny?”
“Millie was a good trooper, El-Maj,” Ramirez replied. “Well liked. Even I am going to miss her.”
The Lieutenant Major nodded and sighed slowly.
“Time to do the job,” he half-whispered, and heard the Gunny chuckle.
“And this is why I’m a Gunny and you’re the Lieutenant Major,” Ramirez told him. “Right behind you, sir.”
Th
at cracked the last of Edvard’s hesitance and he opened the door, marching into the center of the bay linking his Marines’ berths. Four corridors spread out from that bay—three holding a platoon’s squad bays, the fourth holding the headquarters section and the officers’ quarters. The Federation Marines didn’t believe in separating their officers and men much, though the officers’ quarters did have another exit.
“Atten-hut!” Edvard bellowed, his implants projecting his voice and linking into the barracks’ PA system. “Bravo Company Headquarters Section, front and center!”
Suddenly, his men were scrambling. As soon as most of the headquarters section’s twenty men were close to position, the company commander continued the sequence.
“Alpha Platoon, fall in! Bravo Platoon, fall in! Charlie Platoon, fall in! Bravo Company—attention!”
As his men fell into ranks—the central bay held the lockers for their gear and acted as their briefing room and main pre-prep area for missions, it was big enough for all two hundred of his people—Edvard Hansen studied his Marines.
None were in uniform. About half were still in the skintight black bodysuits they wore under their armor. At least a third were at one stage or another of being drunk or stoned. Only combat implants and training were keeping them all upright and in something resembling attention.
“We lost one of our own today,” Edvard told them. “You all know that. You’re wondering if it was worth it—what could possibly have been worth Millicent Ivanovich’s life?”
He stalked forward, eyeing the surprisingly neat formation and meeting many of his people’s eyes directly.
“One million, one hundred and twelve thousand, four hundred and ninety-two civilians,” he told them simply. “That’s how many people are still alive aboard Morrison Hab today—alive, above all other reasons, because when Third Battalion of the One Oh Third was told to take that power facility before the pirates could blow it, we did so.”
Spines straightened throughout the room and he knew he’d hit his mark.
“Lance Corporal Ivanovich was a Marine, ladies and gentlemen,” he reminded them. “She volunteered, same as the rest of us. She put herself between the innocent and those who would do them harm—and she died protecting them.
“That’s the job,” he told them. “We are Castle Federation Marines, and you knew when you signed on that you were damned for a ten-year term.”
That managed to get a few chuckles out of his people.
“Millie died doing the job,” Edvard said. “A lot of us will before this is over. The reason we got rushed off of Morrison Hab is that Command needs us at the front—backstopping the Navy as they punch holes in Walkingstick’s battle plans and take back our systems.”
He surveyed his people again.
“Now, the Navy and the Space Force can blow starships to hell and seize the high orbitals, but we all know to take and hold ground, you need boots on it. We’re going to be those boots. So, hold your heads high, Marines, because Command knows that we are the best they’d got—and they’re sending us to where they need the best!”
Ramirez started the wolf howl from behind Edvard, but he wasn’t sure that the officers and NCOs picked it up first. It took seconds before two hundred howls filled the barracks, and only Edvard’s implants could save his hearing.
Chapter 7
Alizon System
08:00 February 28, 2736 Earth Standard Meridian Date/Time
DSC-078 Avalon, Captain’s Office
“Hi, Dad!” Jacob Kerensky waved wildly into the recording camera. In theory, Kyle could communicate instantly with his family via the Q-Com network, but this close to the front, policy dictated otherwise. He could get around that—rank had its privileges, after all—but even now, his communication with his son was…awkward.
“We spent a whole class today on the war and the first carriers,” the twelve-year-old boy continued excitedly. “I mean, we all saw Avalon last year, but, well, she looked a lot different before she got all shot up!”
Kyle winced. He’d exerted some of those privileges of rank to get Jacob’s class right next to the old Avalon when she was being assessed for whether she would be scrapped. His nightmares happily reminded him of how the old ship, the very first space carrier of the new era, had acquired the holes and scars Jacob was talking about.
His son happily babbled on about school for another ten minutes, and Kyle marveled at the resiliency of youth. For the first eleven years of Jacob’s life, Kyle had been completely absent. He had, quite literally, run away and joined the Space Force when he’d found out his girlfriend’s implant had failed and she was unexpectedly pregnant.
She’d done well for herself, as he was reminded as Doctor Lisa Kerensky finally inserted herself into the feed.
“All right, Jacob,” the lanky blond woman said with a smile. “You do realize your father covered all of this in the Academy, right?”
“Well…maybe, but it’s soo cool!”
Kyle couldn’t help but smile at Jacob’s enthusiasm. The thought of his son following him into the military terrified him, but given the boy’s current interests, it was seeming more and more likely.
“Go get ready for bed, dear,” Doctor Kerensky told her son. “Your grandmother is coming by soon.”
“You’re going out with Dan again, aren’t you?” Jacob asked. His words sounded more bitter than the smile on his face suggested.
“Go,” the boy’s mother answered. As the child disappeared, she dropped herself in front of the camera. She was more dressed up than usual, suggesting that Jacob’s assessment was bang on.
“We’re going to the Navy Annual Gala,” she told Kyle. Her new boyfriend was Daniel Kellers—clearly “Dan” to their son—a Member of the Federation Assembly and, last Kyle had checked, a sitting member of the Committee on Military Appropriations. “Lots of men and women and jackasses in uniform. Your running off to join the military on me may have given me an inaccurately high opinion of soldiers.”
In the privacy of his office without spectators, Kyle stuck his tongue out at her. No one had to know, after all.
Her smiled faded to something gentler, and she leaned forward.
“Rumor mill tells me you’re seeing someone,” she told him. He laughed again—in this case, the “rumor mill” was him saying so in his last message. “I’ll confess to looking up her pictures. She’s gorgeous.”
He didn’t think the edge in Lisa’s voice was jealousy, per se. A warmer, less poisonous, cousin perhaps. Almost…happiness?
“Her record makes me think she can keep you in line, too,” his ex continued with a grin. “Don’t let this one get away, Kyle,” she finished, suddenly serious. “I know you’re not a scared eighteen-year-old anymore—but neither is she. She’s more likely to chase you halfway across the galaxy and drag you back than I was!”
The image of Lisa Kerensky chasing his bus down the street brought a grin to his own face. He didn’t think it would have worked out for either of them, but he wondered if it would have changed his mind.
Of course, so many other things would have changed. Who knew if someone else in his place would have done as well? Ansem Gulf, Battle of Tranquility, the pursuit of Triumphant…
“I know you can’t tell me much from the front,” Lisa concluded. “But message us. Let us know you’re okay. And message your mother,” she added with a grin. “I’ll remind her to message you when she gets here.”
The message faded to black and Kyle smiled to himself. It meant a lot to him that Lisa approved of Mira. It probably wouldn’t have changed much if she didn’t, he was honest enough with himself to admit that, but he was glad she did.
Time could heal only so much of the distance his duties and sins had put between them. For Jacob’s sake, if nothing else.
With a sigh, Kyle turned back to his work. He could record his response later, and he had a lot of work to get through to justify taking the evening off—some enterprising soul had set up a full-scale restaura
nt on one of the new fighter bases in Alizon orbit, and Mira wanted to try it out.
11:00 February 28, 2736 ESMDT
BC-129 Camerone, Bridge
“Stand by for test fire,” Fleet Commander Keira Rose, tactical officer of Camerone, announced.
“What’s our position?” Mira asked, eyeing the battleship floating in the center of the tactical plot. She knew roughly where they were relative to Clawhammer, but this kind of test wasn’t something they wanted to mess up.
“We are five hundred thousand, two hundred forty kilometers and one hundred and seventeen meters away from Clawhammer,” Commander James Coles, her navigator, replied.
“That is a bit over three times the maximum effective range of our secondary battery against Clawhammer’s pre-refit,” Commander Rose noted. “It should be seven times the effective range of a seventy-kiloton lance versus their upgraded deflectors.”
“Yes, it should,” Mira agreed. “However, since even a seventy-kiloton-a-second positron lance is still a beam of pure antimatter that could gut our friends on Clawhammer, let’s do this by the book, shall we?”
Miriam Alstairs had not necessarily been slack as a Captain, but she and her bridge crew had worked together for three years. Mira Solace had inherited that crew, and while she knew they knew each other well enough to operate with less explicit discussion than “the book” called for, she didn’t know them that well.
“Understood, ma’am,” Rose apologized crisply. “I have secondary lance seventeen spun up, positron capacitors at sixty percent and rising. Targeting point Zeta, standing by to fire on your command.”
“Point Zeta” appeared on the tactical plot in Mira’s head as a highlighted white point, roughly fifty meters behind Clawhammer—close enough that the beam would intersect the battleship’s electromagnetic deflectors, far enough away that if something went very wrong and Clawhammer’s deflectors failed, Camerone wouldn’t gut the older warship.
Battle Group Avalon (Castle Federation Book 3) Page 5