Runs In The Family

by Kevin Ikenberry

  “I have.” He sighed. “I’m not comfortable with this. I feel like there I’m going to walk into that room and everyone knows something but me.”

  “What does Darren think?” Tally ran a fingernail across his chest.

  “That I’m worrying unnecessarily.” Andrew chuckled. “That I’m reading too much into this negotiation. Just like I did with the Vemeh a few years ago.”

  Tally squinted. “When the Vemeh wanted to mine Mars?”

  “Yeah,” Andrew said. “I almost freaked out the entire scientific community by repeatedly asking what was so important about Mars to the Vemeh. In the end, they were looking for a specific element. Scanned the whole planet and never found it. We all breathed a sigh of relief when they wanted Io instead. Of course, we let them have that hellhole without question.”

  Tally nodded. “It’s different when there’s something you think you want involved.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With Mars,” Tally said, “you already had a colony presence there and had been successful in determining the presence of life and water. Those are important things. Having the Vemeh ask permission raised a million doubts. It would have been easier if they’d taken it by force.”

  Andrew flared. “That wouldn’t have made things easier.”

  “It would have erased the doubts in your mind.” Tally looked at him for a moment. “Do you see what I’m saying, Andrew?”

  “That if there’s something we really want, and covet, we tend to get defensive. And usually for all the wrong reasons.”

  “And you’re concerned that because Libretto is so similar to Earth, that if there is something the Greys or the Tueg or the Styrahi want, they’re going to want it from Earth next.”

  Andrew chuckled. “More or less.”

  “And for all you know, the Tueg want you to meet with them and the Styrahi to discuss their own homeworld defense. All you know is they want to talk to you and the Styrahi Council at the same time. How many times have you done that in the past ten years?”

  “A few.” Andrew laughed.

  “So, stop worrying about all of the possible reasons. You have a staff of people scurrying around downstairs who want to do that for you, for some strange reason. Let them worry about the possibilities.”

  Andrew pulled her onto his chest. “And I should just be worrying about you?”

  “It is two weeks to Libretto after all, right?” She grinned and stroked his chin. Her grin faded. There was already gray in the hair at his temples, like his father. He would die young if he kept up this pace, this worry, this consuming behavior. Leadership, real leadership, tended to be like that. Long hours, little appreciation, and constant unwavering demand for higher and higher production. There was no difference between civilian and military leadership and it was a game for the young that aged them before their time. “Slow down, Andrew. If not for me, then for yourself.”

  Andrew nodded. “I’ll try, Tally. You can’t imagine how hard this is.”

  “Yes, I can, Andy.” She smiled with one corner of her mouth. “I see it written in your face, these little gray hairs, and when you sleep. You hardly relax at all unless I make you.”

  “You do that well,” Andrew quipped. “Of course you make me do other things, as well.” He shifted under her and his intentions were evident against her thigh.

  Tally grinned and moved up to kiss him. “I love you.”

  “I love you, Tally,” he said between kisses. Their tongues danced together for a moment as they warmed into their lovemaking. His strong hands traced her shoulders and cradled her face. His fingers plunged into her thick, dark hair.

  She wrapped him in her arms, pulling at him gently. Answering his body with her own intentions and need. Not even the sensory distortion of the transport slipping into foldspace interrupted them. Tally gasped as Andrew entered her. Nothing else mattered as they moved in perfect synchronization against each other. Against the surreal golds and greens of foldspace, the cares of their world faded as they focused solely on each other.

  * * * * *

  Forty-Four

  What had Coffey said? Fighting on Ashland would be like fighting on the moon? Kilometer after kilometer of dull gray regolith, the occasional boulder and random craters stretched across the horizon. Through the gunner’s sight, Mairin centered her sector of fire to cover the two vehicles guarding the closest exit point of the “Big Ditch” so aptly named by the newly promoted Colonel Coffey. First Sergeant Livingston and a tank from third platoon sat in relative concealment, but there’d been no time to adequately update the camouflage patterns, and the green vehicles stuck out like proverbial sore thumbs. Couldn’t be helped, Mairin snorted. No plan survived contact with the enemy, and their entire planning process had amounted to a serious wargaming exercise, because the moment they’d dropped, Coffey had changed the mission. Now, instead of a simple area reconnaissance mission, Mairin’s troop sat waiting to conduct the greatest exercise in futility designed by the brass—the passage of lines.

  Somewhere to their front, a Styrahi intelligence team crept through the wadi looking for anything of value. If the Greys were watching the wadi, and Mairin was certain they had to be, at some point an attack would be launched and the intelligence team would come running back through the passage point. Well beyond the direct fire support of the regiment snugly dug in on the high ground, and without dedicated indirect fire and artillery support, the only asset available beyond her own gun tubes were the inaccurate carpet-bombing idiots of the orbital gun platforms.

  For the fifteenth time, Mairin wished for a peaceful return of the intel team. Her troops could handle the challenge and password exchanges, the verifications and authentications, and the slow business of peacefully bringing another unit into their lines and passing them to the unit behind. If they came out of the wadi under fire, they had two chances for survival—slim and none. And Coffey had ensured they couldn’t talk to the close air support assets. The man’d had the audacity to jam his own units. Only he would have access to the close air frequencies. Finite control he’d taken to calling it. A prescription for disaster.

  No air cover. Mairin fought smiling at the memory of Coffey strutting around the briefing room like a scalded rooster. Screw him. “We will find a way, or make one.” Where did that come from, grandpa? Any other pearls of wisdom? Her communications console buzzed, a direct laser message from Coffey.

  The characters appeared across her screen. (You missed your hourly report. SITREP now.)

  Mairin bit her lip savagely and typed (Under radio listening silence to include laser emittance.)

  (I’ll tell you what you can and cannot do. Is that clear?)

  “Goddamnit,” Mairin swore in her helmet. There was no atmosphere, no flora, no good terrain to protect against the enemy gaining access to their line of sight communications. She typed again. (Negative report at this time.)

  (Negative as in what? No enemy? No report? Or are you trying to fuck me over, Captain?)

  Mairin stared at the flashing cursor for an eternity knowing that she’d eventually have to answer the bastard, no matter what. A new message opened from Livingston. (Four vehicles sighted bearing zero nine eight at ten kilometers. Appear friendly. Will advise.)

  Let’s see how you like that, sir. Mairin said to herself in the closed comfort of her pressure helmet, as she forwarded the message to Coffey and sat forward in her seat, eyes pressed to the gunner’s sight extension and magnified as high as possible.

  (Engage at earliest opportunity), Coffey sent. Mairin reread the message with her mouth open. The man was insane. She was about to answer when he sent another message. (Close air confirms vehicles are enemy. Engage.)

  Mairin looked over at Conner. “Any exocraft activity in the area?”

  “No, ma’am. There’s a combat air patrol circling at forty kilometers, but nothing close.”

  “Can an exocraft at that distance make out individual targets on the ground well enough to ident
ify them?” she asked rhetorically. No one answered her. Her stomach tumbled again, and she blinked against the nausea. Focus! Develop the situation a little more. It’s not hesitation if you’re ready to act. Get everyone ready, just don’t do it in the clear.

  Working quickly, she keyed her console over to the vehicle status screen and ensured that all vehicles showed up. The program would allow her to send reminders to all of her vehicles for maintenance and services to be conducted, and would allow her to see what everyone’s status was without a clear broadcast. All of the inter-vehicle communications were secure and encrypted, and linked by optical systems. The system read good on all vehicles. Mairin figured it would have to work.

  “Driver, repulsors to standby. Gunner, lock and load battle carry sabot. Press targeting to cannons.” Mairin looked at Conner. “Maintain radio silence.”

  One by one, the other vehicles in the troop followed their commander’s example. Repulsors online and guns loaded, Mairin waited for the last two vehicles, the passage point team, to cycle over. Nothing happened. A minute passed, and then two. Mairin began to type the message to Livingston—

  “SHELLREP! Twelve rounds vicinity four hundred meters east from passage point,” Ulson called in the clear. From the far end of their position, he was the only one who could see into the wadi as much as Livingston. “Horizon obscured!”

  So much for listening silence, Mairin thought and engaged her radio.

  “Roger, Red One. Black Nine, get your repulsors online and guns loaded. Sitrep in one mike, over.” Mairin flipped frequencies and relayed the shell report to Coffey before re-engaging the troop frequency.

  “Six, this is Nine. Four vehicles approaching now firing over their back decks. Horizon obscured by smoke. Negative contact with enemy. Confirm vehicles appear to be friendly. I say again, vehicles have proper markings and following procedures for passage of lines under fire.”

  Mairin keyed the radio on the regimental frequency. “Bullet Six, Saber Six. Vehicles inbound to passage point are friendlies. They appear to be under fire, over.”

  “Goddamn it, I said take them out!” Coffey roared. “Destroy them now!”

  She flipped back to the company frequency. “Black Nine, distance to vehicles? Do you have a visual on enemy?”

  “Six, they are two hundred meters and picking up speed. No visual contact. There are rounds falling around the vehicles but cannot determine origin or type,” Livingston replied.

  This doesn’t make sense. There’s no way those vehicles could be identified from an exocraft twenty miles away. Coffey had to be wrong. Drunk again. Or were they? “Guidons, Six. Stand by to fire.”

  “Negative, Six. I have interface lock with one of the—” The connection hissed and Mairin saw a flash of light. Through the sight extension she saw the turret of Livingston’s Slammer and the turret of his wingman both tumbling in long arcs away from the exploding hulls.

  Sonuvabitch!

  “Standby to fire,” Mairin called over the squadron frequency. On the horizon, she saw the first vehicle begin to crest the hill. “Gunner, sabot, vehicle in the open.”

  “Identified.”

  “Up!”

  “Driver, move out, gunner secure the tube.”

  “Driver, stop.”

  The Slammer hadn’t even rocked to a stop when Mairin called “Fire!”

  “On the way!”

  <> The Interface chimed.

  “Command override!” Mairin screamed. “Kill that sonuvabitch!”

  <> the Interface stopped, and the interior light went red. <>

  Mairin looked at Conner. “Is that vehicle broadcasting in the clear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. One twelve decimal five seven.”

  “Punch that freq, Conner.”

  The connection hissed. “Taking fire, taking fire! Trailing vehicles are not friendly. Stop firing at us! Hit everything behind us!”

  The vehicle status report showed Ulson’s tank engaging with the coaxially mounted rail gun outside of Interface control. Mairin mashed the radio button. “Cease fire on the leader! Cease fire on the leader! Kill the other—”

  The friendly vehicle erupted in a shower of sparks that died before hitting the regolith. Mairin slammed a fist into her thigh. More Grey vehicles crested the slope. Hundreds of them.

  “Open fire!” Mairin screamed into the radio and unleashed hell. She watched the Grey vehicles explode in rapid succession. All detonated after one precise hit, she thought with agony.

  “Saber six, this is Bullet Six. SITREP on those vehicles!”

  Her mouth tasted like metal. She wanted to spit. “Bullet Six, I am in contact. Engaged and destroyed unknown number enemy vehicles and one friendly vehicle. I need close air support, now!”

  “What?”

  She keyed the radio again. “Bullet Six, engaged and destroyed an unknown number of enemy vehicles and one friendly vehicle. All vehicles were not targets. Repeat all vehicles were not targets. Positive interface lock from friendly vehicle.” Tears stung her eyes but a steady thumping rain of artillery on their position snapped her to reality. “Guidons, Six. Supplemental positions, move now!”

  Her private channel to Ulson chimed. “Why didn’t you tell us, ma’am?”

  “I tried as soon as I knew, Alex.” Mairin held tightly to the chair and the Slammer accelerated over a boulder and dove to the right. “Now’s not the time for this. We’ll sort this out later!”

  Mairin slammed her fist into her tender thigh again and again until hot tears ran down her cheeks. Stop it, Mairin. Stop it right now. She tried to run a sleeve under her nose and realized that she was only scratching her faceplate. How long to the supplemental position? The thought sobered her. “Conner, time to supplemental position?”

  “At this speed, three minutes. We’re clear of the artillery for now.”

  Don’t stop. Keep pushing. “Guidons, Six. Push hard to the supplemental positions.” She flipped over to the regimental frequency. “Saber Six taking heavy indirect fire. Moving to supplemental positions. Time now, out.”

  Think, Mairin. Get to the supplemental position and reorganize. You’re down two vehicles and eight personnel. Don’t make it worse than it is. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her headset buzzed.

  “You happy now, Shields?” Coffey gloated. “You got an intelligence team killed because you hesitated.”

  “You told me to kill them all, sir.”

  Coffey laughed. “You sure did, Shields. You sure did.”

  The connection clicked off. She rolled through the regimental line to her supplemental position and grounded the vehicle in defilade with only the optics package on the top of the tank visible. Five hundred meters behind the regimental line in overwatch, Mairin thought about climbing off the track and going to talk to her vehicles. Not the best idea, given, she thought as heavy artillery fire began to pound the regiment. She looked at the position of her vehicles and realized that Livingston’s first responsibility was always the priorities of work in a position. Security emplacement, range card generation, rest and maintenance plans all being critical aspects of the fight. Without Livingston, they weren’t getting done. Even her own crew sat listless in the seats.

  “All right, crew.” Mairin snapped, an edge to her voice. “Ammunition counts and gun tube verifications, Lee. Conner, I want our precise position within one meter, relay it to all vehicles, and find a way for me to talk to the close air support.”

  “Ma’am, that frequency is blocked.”

  “Is that going to stop you, Conner?” Mairin narrowed her eyes slightly. “I’ll find a communications specialist that can unblock it.”

  Conner grinned. “Not in this unit, ma’am. I’m on it.”

  Mairin called down to Booker. “I want a full vehicle status report in five minutes, Booker. No sleeping.” The driver lay reclined o
n his back in the style of the old Abrams battle tanks. Given no movement, a warm vehicle, and that position, it was easy to sleep even in the midst of a mission. Mairin toggled her console to operational mode. “Interface, encryption keys beta sigma on my mark. Mark.”

  Mairin thought for a second and then spoke with as much of a normal voice as she could. “Troopers, this is Captain Shields. We made a mistake back there, and while we had the best of intentions, that friendly vehicle didn’t have much of a chance anyway. That’s cold comfort to the fact we committed fratricide. The bad part is things happen in war, and neither training nor technology will help when the cards are stacked against you like that. We lost—” She paused and made sure her voice was steady. “We lost a great leader and great troopers out there today. Look out your vision blocks at the regimental position. They’re taking a beating right now, and that means the Greys are going to come rolling up for a fight. We’re going to give them one. For First Sergeant Livingston and our troopers. And if we don’t, we’ll meet them in Fiddler’s Green for a drink tonight.

  “Keep your chins up, focus on your duties. Red One, contact me on private channel. Six out.”

  Five seconds later she heard Ulson’s voice. “Ma’am?”

  “Alex, not a word or a thought about what happened back there. You understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She heard him sniff. “The interface let me fire. I’m sorry—”

  “I said not a word! Now get it together, Alex. I want your recommendation for a First Sergeant and I need it now.” Give him a task. Show him you still trust him. Bringing him back to the fight will be the best thing you can do.

  Nothing came back for ten long seconds. “Sergeant Dao. He’s the best we’ve got now.”

  “I concur.” Mairin nodded. By the sound of his voice, Ulson was back and ready to get to work. For now. They’d have to talk more later. “I want you to tell him. Will be good for him to hear it from you. I’ll contact him later. I want him on priorities of work. Get our people ready for a fight.”

  “How long do you think we have?”