by B. V. Larson
“Sometimes, a heavy club or a sharp blade scares a man more than a gun,” Heiser remarked to Straker. “Especially in close quarters. The fact that you are actually more dangerous than your bodyguards doesn’t even matter. This is about hearts and minds, sir, not reality. The commander needs attack dogs, so he can always be the good guy. Nobody does his best for an attack dog. They do it for someone they respect, even love.”
“I’m with you, Spear.” Spear had been a nickname for First Sergeant since the time of the Romans of Old Earth. Straker had remembered this from his studies, and he’d taken to using it for Heiser. “I’ll walk around and smile and slap backs. I’ll even kiss babies when they show up. I think I’m turning into a politician.”
“Babies will show up, sir,” Heiser said. “Plenty of activity in the holds going on after lights-out, I hear. A bunch of our female troops gonna be useless in a few months, unless they already have implants.”
“Useless as soldiers, maybe, but as people, as anchors for a new society, they’ll be essential. Nothing will endear us to a bunch of civilians like mothers with children. And you put the word out to the sperm donors that they’ll act like fathers or they’ll answer to me.”
Heiser grinned. “Roger wilco, sir.”
“What do you think, Spear? Will they be ready?”
“More than ready, sir. Eager. I’ve spread a few stories and let a few hints drop like you said, and everyone’s hankering to hear the mission brief.”
“I’ll brief them the day before we arrive. You can tell them that. That way they’ll have time to think about it, sleep on it, and get used to it, but not enough time to worry.”
* * *
That day, the day before emergence into normal space, arrived quickly. After a short day of training, Straker had the holds reconfigured yet again to create one big open space in the middle, with three doorless platoon sections around the perimeter. They’d sleep that way tonight, as a regiment.
The new people had embraced being called “Straker’s Breakers.” It made him smile to hear it: the beginnings of esprit-de-corps, military identity and tradition.
“Good afternoon, Breakers!” Straker roared, and the regiment roared back from their positions seated on the deck. A few leaped to their feet to applaud, but he waved them back down while the Ritter brothers bellowed for silence.
“Tomorrow we’ll be going into battle. I’ll be leading you, but you’re going to be doing the hard work, and I’ll be depending on you. Unfortunately I don’t have fancy projection screens, or even the ability to print out much hardcopy, so with the help of some hull paint, I’ve drawn graphics on the bulkhead behind me.”
A designated crewman turned on a spotlight that highlighted one section of the drawings. “This blob is an asteroid habitat with two thousand people living on it. It has factories, farms, and plenty of space for homes. With my help, the Unmutual rebels stole it from the Mutuality. With your help, I’m going to steal it back, for us Breakers.”
Straker would have expected whispering and quiet talk, but the Breakers kept dead silence. Every face stared in total fascination at the crude picture, as if they could leech more information from it.
Aldrik raised his hand on cue. “How are we going to steal it, sir? How do we get away with it?”
“Good question, Sergeant. We’re going to do it the same way the Unmutuals did: with sidespace engines. They moved the habitat to a secret location, but I know that location, and when we take control of it, we’ll move it somewhere else.”
Straker hoped the habitat was where he’d last seen it. If the Unmutuals had moved it again, they were screwed.
“When we first joined the Unmutuals, they showed me their good side. But I’m sure the Spear told you a few tales about their bad side, and the stories were true. These Unmutual troops became corrupt thugs, lacking in human decency and military discipline. Many are thieves, rapists, and murderers. I promise you, that will never happen under my command. Understood?”
“YES, SIR!” the Breakers barked in unison.
Enjoy this while you can, a small voice said in Straker’s head. They’d never be this enthusiastic and naïve again. After this battle, they’d be blooded veterans… or dead. They wouldn’t be so eager to rush in the future, but they’d follow, if he led them well.
“The Unmutuals call the habitat Freiheit, which the Ritter brothers tell me is the word for freedom in their old German language. I think we’ll keep that name, and make it come true. We’re going to liberate the civilians, and they’ll be given a chance to join us. Anyone offering armed resistance is an enemy, to be killed or captured. If they surrender, treat them properly, but if they resist, shoot them. I have no sympathy, and neither should you.”
At this, a rolling cheer broke out, and this time Straker let it flow and die out naturally.
“You might be wondering how we’re going to take this rock against hardened enemy troops. But there won’t be as many of them as there will be of us, and as soon as they understand what’s going on, I’m confident the civilians will swing over to our side. We’ll also have the element of complete and total surprise. I’m not going to explain exactly how we’ll achieve that, but I can assure you we have allies.”
Straker signaled, and the spotlight shifted to show stick figures of an octopoid and a human, shaking hands. At least, that’s what he hoped it looked like. “Along with some of my human troops, and ships you haven’t seen yet, we have Ruxin allies. They look a little weird, but they’re good people. Any Ruxin you see is on our side.”
This revelation brought whispering, quickly quashed.
“Now that you know what I want to do, I’ll tell you how I want you to do it.” Straker went on to brief them.
After he’d explained his plan in detail—too much detail, Heiser again remarked. Straker spent time with the troops, listening to them talk, trying to gauge their morale for himself. He found them as ready as he could expect. The young were eager to throw themselves against their enemies. The older ones, those who’d been through more misery and abuse in their lives, even a few battles, seemed grim and determined. At least, none of them looked ready to run away. The shifty ones had been weeded out.
When Straker was eating dinner in the wardroom that evening, Tachina came in, escorted by an unsmiling crewwoman. She wore a coverall this time, and her hair was greasy from lack of washing, but she still radiated sensuality. Maybe it was the way she moved, and her perfume… He should order her not to wear it, he supposed, but that seemed like the opposite of the freedom he promised.
He realized his tactical error when she picked up a tray of food, simple but hearty shipboard fare, and took the empty place next to him. Her hip pressed against his, her scent filled his nostrils, and he found himself thinking things he shouldn’t. Carla Engels was his woman, always had been from the moment he saw her, not this… creature.
“Ma’am,” he said, getting up with his half-finished food.
“Don’t go, Captain.” She grabbed his arm. “I’m so lonely stuck in that room all day. If you won’t come see me, at least let me socialize with the crew.”
Straker slipped away from her grasp with difficulty. Her hand seemed to stick like a Ruxin’s tentacle.
“We’re going into battle tomorrow,” he said. “After that, you’ll get to choose where you go, what you do. Until then, you’re nothing but a problem.”
Tachina burst into tears, making him feel horrible. He almost responded with kind words, until Captain Gibson kicked him under the table.
Straker met the man’s eyes, and Gibson shook his head. He realized the freighter captain was right. The woman’s tears might be real, or just an attempt to gain his sympathy. Either way, his responsibility was to the lives of his regiment, not to the feelings of one person.
He stepped back, taking his tray. “Captain Gibson,” he said evenly, “I’ll be with the troops. Make sure Miss Tachina stays out of the way.”
“Aye aye, sir,” Gibson said. “Eat your food,
miss, and no more shenanigans, or you’ll be dining alone again.”
Again? Interesting. Apparently she’d been sent to her cabin before.
Later that night, as Straker lay on his pallet in the separated room he shared with his trusted men, he thought he smelled her perfume again.
His memory must be playing tricks on him, he thought. He sniffed his arm where she had touched, and where he had scrubbed with strong soap, and smelled nothing. Still, the aroma seemed to linger in the air, and when he finally slept, his dreams would have resurrected a dead man.
He woke to Heiser shaking him. “Sir, we’re half an hour out.”
“I told you to get me up two hours ago, Spear.”
Heiser shrugged. “You looked like you could use the sleep. I got everything under control.”
Straker bit his tongue. Heiser was his Spear, and he had to allow for the man’s best judgment. He rolled to his feet and shrugged on his combat tunic instead of his fancy naval jacket. Inspiring the troops was one thing, getting shot by a sniper was entirely another.
He found himself glad of the sleep and the shortness of time. In reality, he had nothing to do but make a quick pass through the troops and stand on the bridge, watching the transition chrono count down. After all, it wasn’t as if the battle would start right away.
Or it shouldn’t.
But when the Lockstep emerged, the active sensors immediately sounded the alarm.
Chapter 35
Just outside enemy space, seeking Revenge.
“Get me an ID on that contact,” Straker snapped.
“Warship, sir,” Gibson said. “Corvette class. Transceiver says it’s the Liberator.” The sensors watchstander’s voice went up a notch. “They’ve locked us up with fire control.”
“Put me on the comlink.”
The communications officer punched up the channel. “You’re on, sir. They’re transmitting.”
“—Mutuality freighter, this is Liberator. Identify yourself immediately or be fired upon.”
Straker spoke. “Damn, Engels! Don’t kill your own captain just yet.”
“Derek! I mean, Captain Straker, sir? Good to see you. I take it the mission was successful?”
“So far. No sign yet of Revenge?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Hope to hell Zaxby hasn’t gone off raiding or something idiotic like that.”
Engels’ voice quavered. “Or something went wrong in sidespace. Mishaps are rare, but they do happen, and that ship is old.”
Straker was quite conscious of the freighter crew watching and listening. He put good cheer into his voice. “Let’s not start worrying. How far are we out?”
“So far out the Unmutuals shouldn’t have detected our sidespace emergence, but that means it’ll be a long trip in.”
“And Freiheit is still there?”
“In the same stellar orbit we left it, sir.”
Straker let out a silent sigh of relief. “What about Carson or any other warships?”
“Nothing I can detect on passive sensors. Can’t go active.”
Of course they couldn’t. Active emanations would give them away.
Just then, the collision alarm screamed at the bridge crew. “Shit!” yelled the woman on sensors. “Too close!”
The helmsman threw the ship into a sharp climbing turn, missing the Revenge ahead of them by less than a hundred meters, judging from the display. The motion dragged the crew against their restraints despite inertial compensators. Transports weren’t designed for such maneuvers.
“Dammit,” Straker complained, gripping the support rungs that were placed around the walls of the bridge. “Get me Zaxby!”
“Lieutenant Zaxby here, Captain.”
“That was close, don’t you think? And you were supposed to get here first.”
“We were here first, Captain. We’ve been here for eleven hours. I was taking the opportunity to exercise the precision underspace capability of the Revenge.”
“Well, next time appear behind the friendly ships.”
“There was no danger, sir. Our velocities are matched, so we could not collide. Your helmsman simply panicked.”
The helmsman began to protest. Straker held up a hand. “Zaxby, not everybody has your iron nerves and piloting skills. Superior abilities mean you have to take others’ capabilities into account. Otherwise, you’re more trouble than you’re worth. Maybe there’s another Ruxin who would like to be Executive Officer on the Revenge?”
Zaxby hastened to backtrack. “You’re absolutely right, Captain Straker. I’d briefly forgotten that with great capability comes great responsibility for the lesser beings around me. I will endeavor to condescend more in the future.”
“Is that possible?” muttered Captain Gibson.
“Let’s get on with it,” Straker said. “Have you rigged for troop carry?”
“Of course, Captain Straker. You may dock when ready.”
Straker nodded at Gibson, who directed the helmsman to match airlocks with Revenge again. While First Platoon transferred onto the ship with full combat gear, Straker called Liberator. “Engels, what do you see? You have the best sensors.”
“Bayzos and Aynor are on the other side of the system, more than a light-hour away, so it will take that long to even see us, and about a day for anything they launch to get here. The hard part will be pushing Freiheit far enough out from the star to make the jump. It could get ugly.”
“And you’re sure there’s no sign of Carson or any other vessels?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Likely they’ll only have a squadron of attack ships.”
“And you can handle those?” Straker asked.
“Between Liberator and Revenge, yes, but…”
“You hate to kill people that are only doing their jobs, right?”
Her voice strengthened with pride. “I’ll do my duty.”
“I never doubted it. Begin your run, impellers only.”
“On my way, Cap’n. You just make sure Zaxby is there on time, on target.”
“Oh, I certainly will,” Straker said.
Heiser stepped onto the bridge. “Ready for you, sir,” he said. “Your gear is already transferred.”
Straker reached out to shake Gibson’s hand. “Stick to the plan and everything will be fine. My First Platoon might be enough, but I can’t depend on that, so you need to push in as soon as the shit hits the fan.”
Gibson let go of Straker’s hand and snapped off a jaunty salute. “Aye aye, sir. We’ll get into the action. I think the troops still aboard would mutiny if we didn’t.”
Straker followed Heiser through the open airlock onto Revenge. Nazario and Redwolf waited for him, along with Aldrik Ritter.
The passageways remained damp, but at least they’d been drained of water. Breakers now occupied every available cubic meter, packed in like sardines. Straker chuckled to himself at the aquatic wordplay, and then sobered as the joke reminded him of Loco. This was the first battle he’d ever been in where his best friend wasn’t at his side.
No matter. Heiser was a good man, as were Nazario and Redwolf. The three could hardly be more different, but now, they were brothers in arms—and more importantly, a deadly team.
“Everyone thoroughly briefed?” Straker said to Heiser.
Heiser gave him a mildly reproachful look. “We’ve gone over it five or six times. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.”
“Then pass the word to undock and accelerate.”
* * *
The inbound trip was excruciating. Despite the best efforts of the ship’s systems, the air became fetid with a hundred extra humans aboard. The air-scrubbers were overloaded on every deck. Built to hold thirty Ruxin crewmen, the ship was being used in a way it had never been designed for.
Zaxby had assured Straker the air recyclers could handle it, but some of the troops reported headaches and nausea. Straker had to order more oxygen released from the emergency tanks. He also had the gravity reduced to ten percent to e
ase the strain on people who had to stand or squat.
It only got worse when the time came to vanish, safely out of detection range. From there, Revenge cruised in underspace, navigating purely on the navcomp’s computer memory. If something outside changed, if a ripple in underspace moved them from their chosen path, they’d never know until they emerged.
The temperature dropped slowly but steadily. The troops began to shiver, even though the thermometer on the wall showed they should be comfortable. Straker chalked it up to the underspace effect that slowed every molecule within its field. He clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to visit the bridge. Looking over Zaxby’s shoulder wouldn’t change anything, and would only make him appear insecure. Instead, he tried to project an air of confidence.
Finally, the PA crackled to life and Zaxby’s voice said, “We are in position. Emerging now. Firing beam.” A pause. “Main power has been cut. Freiheit is crippled.”
Straker imagined the stealthed ship’s actions, popping into existence less than a kilometer from the northern, Base Control Center end of the Freiheit asteroid. Murdock must be shitting his pants right now, as would Ramirez, if she was aboard. “Move in, now! And give us some heat in here!”
“I cannot do both, and soon there will be no need. Inserting.”
The chill came again, but only briefly, as the Ruxin ship vanished and moved directly toward the asteroid. With a solid update from the first pop-up, the navcomp should be able to place them precisely…
“Emerging.”
The temperature rose suddenly, the opposite of the chill Straker had felt before. This must be the effect Zaxby had briefed him on, he realized: untold numbers of air molecules being displaced out of the way by the ship’s emergence from underspace. Some of them would not get out of the way fast enough and would interact with solid objects, creating heat.
Of greater concern were dust particles or water droplets. A crackling sound briefly permeated the passageways, accompanied by cries of pain as blisters appeared on—and inside—people. Someone screamed, and several soldiers yelled as a power pack ruptured.