The Service of Mars

by Glynn Stewart

  “I’ve been working with Chief Sinclair to keep the Admiral’s communications running,” the younger woman admitted. “In theory, there’s a chain of command with only six people who need access to her. In practice, well.”

  “In practice, everyone thinks their problem is important enough to need her personal attention,” Kulkarni agreed. She entered a series of commands, bringing up a globe of Sucre on the screen they shared.

  “The locals did a good job of setting up their ground defenses,” she conceded. “Unfortunately for them, some of our defectors gave Montgomery a lot of the details while he was planning his investigation here. We have that data now, which we put together with our own scans and ended up with a solid idea of what we’re looking at.”

  Red stylized fort icons dotted the globe now.

  “Geography is always the biggest factor in something like this,” Kulkarni noted. “In this case, a set of mountain ranges on either side of a continental plate here.” Part of the globe flashed. “Give it another billion years or so and the Connors Plate will probably be completely ground underneath the two squeezing in on it. For the moment, though, there are two ranges of mountainous islands on either side of a warm and pleasant sea with an Australia-sized island in the middle of it.

  “While there are batteries in position to fire over those mountains and target craft descending from orbit, the mountains do impose a blind spot at lower altitudes. The locals made up for that by installing a heavier set of defenses in a few locations on the interior of those mountains, since that island is one of their more densely populated regions.

  “We’ve dialed in all of those defenses,” the ops officer said calmly. “We will eliminate approximately seventeen percent of Sucre’s surface defenses and clear a zone roughly two hundred kilometers across for the landing.

  “The worst part will be the first wave, which will not be transporting troops,” Kulkarni said grimly. “There will still be five launch facilities that are too close to civilian populations to engage in long-range bombardment. A wave of Guard and Marine Corps assault shuttles will carry out a close-range assault on those positions to minimize collateral damage and clear the way for the main landing.”

  Roslyn shivered. Minimize did not mean completely prevent. That was impossible, especially if the stations were as close as they had been on Legatus. If they were lucky, the locals would take the destruction of the other defensive installations around the area as a sign to evacuate the civilians.

  “After that…” Kulkarni sighed. “It’s down to General Bunnag and the Guard, what happens after that.”

  Roslyn nodded, glancing away from the globe of Sucre as a new alert pinged on her screen.

  “Wait, that’s…that’s a Royal Guard ID code,” she said aloud. One of the ships heading toward Second Fleet wasn’t transmitting a Protectorate Guard beacon. “Looks like a courier ship that decided to make the last jumps in company with the transport fleet. Armed courier CT-Seven-Five-Six-Seven, permanently assigned to the Royal Guard.”

  “They’re late,” her boss grumbled.

  “Sir?”

  “I guess they wanted to make the trip with starship escort, which makes sense, I suppose,” Kulkarni said. “With the death of the Mage-King and the Crown Prince, Mage-Admiral Alexander is now the Crown Princess of Mars. That means she’s supposed to be protected by the Royal Guard, not the Secret Service.”

  Roslyn nodded slowly. She hadn’t met any of the red-armored Combat Mages responsible for the protection of the Mage-Queen of Mars, but she knew their reputation. Veteran Mages from the Marine Corps provided with exosuit combat armor that was rumored to augment their already-formidable magical abilities.

  “I guess that’s a good thing,” she said. “I liked our Secret Service team, though.”

  “Me too,” Kulkarni agreed. “But we can’t afford to lose the Admiral now, for a million and ten reasons. I doubt the Queen is going to be popping out an heir anytime soon.”

  Roslyn snorted. Mage-Queen Kiera Alexander was barely seventeen. Securing the dynasty be damned, no one was expecting the teenager to have a baby just yet.

  “I’ll let the Admiral know,” Roslyn told Kulkarni. “Agent Samson and Chief Sinclair, too. We’ll want to make sure the transition is as smooth as possible.”

  “Agreed,” her boss said. “I’ll leave that with you, if you think you can handle it? I’m elbow-deep in this damned invasion plan.”

  “I’ve got it,” Roslyn promised.

  “I suppose I’m grateful they’re finally here,” Alexander said slowly after Roslyn updated her. “They’re a week and a half late, but I wasn’t looking forward to giving up Samson.”

  “Forgive my ignorance, sir, but couldn’t Samson join the Guard?” Roslyn asked as she stood at attention in front of Alexander’s desk.

  “Sit down, Lieutenant,” Alexander ordered. “I’m old and you’re making my neck hurt.”

  Roslyn obeyed, waiting for the Admiral to continue.

  “Samson is a Combat Mage and, in theory, can become a Guard,” Alexander admitted. “Tradition and a few practical concerns mean that he can only make that transition on Mars. Unfortunately, every member of my former Guard detail is retired or dead.”

  She sighed.

  “The last actively serving member of my old detail commanded my nephew’s personal guards—and died with him. This Guard-Captain von Sulzbach is unknown to me.” She chuckled. “I suppose they could have sent me his picture over the Link, but we’re not used to having access to interstellar digital transfers yet.”

  “I wasn’t under the impression we trusted our captive Links quite that much yet, either,” Roslyn noted.

  “We don’t,” Alexander agreed. “Necessity means that Montgomery, Her Majesty and I use it for discussions that are classified, but we try to avoid sending actual files through it. That will change as we build our own, but for now, we operate as we always have.”

  Roslyn checked her wrist-comp as it beeped at her.

  “We have received personnel files for the detachment,” she told the Admiral. “I’m forwarding them to you.”

  “I’ll take a look at von Sulzbach’s, but if you can review the others, I’d appreciate it,” Alexander replied. “There are a thousand demands on my time, Lieutenant, as you well know. Make sure there’s a gap in my schedule for me to meet them when they arrive aboard Durendal.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll check with Chief Sinclair.”

  “Thank you.” Alexander turned to look at the wallscreen behind her, which showed a status display of the fleet and the planetary defenses. “This isn’t going to be difficult now, but I’m afraid it’s going to get ugly,” she murmured. “The last thing we need is for the Admiral’s house to be out of order.

  “Make sure that doesn’t happen, Roslyn.”

  13

  Roslyn stood at Mage-Admiral Alexander’s left hand as the trio of shuttles painted in the red-and-black livery of the Royal Family’s personal household settled down in Durendal’s bay. Protectorate Secret Service Senior Agent Alan Samson stood on the other side of the Admiral, the bodyguard’s spine utterly straight as he watched his people fall out in a protective cordon for what would probably be the last time.

  The shuttle ramps lowered in perfect synchronicity, and neatly dressed columns of red exosuits came down each ramp. Each shuttle disgorged ten of the armored Guards and they swiftly moved to overlap with the Secret Service.

  The first suit off the central shuttle approached Mage-Admiral Alexander and saluted crisply before retracting his helmet into the neckplate of his armor.

  “Guard-Captain Mario von Sulzbach,” the ambiguously brown Mage introduced himself. “I am your new Royal Guard team commander, Your Highness.”

  “Welcome, Captain,” Alexander said calmly. “This is Senior Agent Alan Samson, the commander of my Secret Service detail.”

  Von Sulzbach saluted Samson with perfect military precision.

  “I relieve you, Senior Age
nt Samson,” he said.

  “I stand relieved, Guard-Captain,” Samson replied. “My people and I stand ready to assist the Guard in any way necessary.”

  “We’ll have to sit down and chat as soon as we can make the time,” von Sulzbach assured the Secret Service agent. “My people will take over close protection immediately, but the rest of the security arrangements may take us some time to transition properly. Your cooperation would be most valuable.”

  “Of course, Guard-Captain.”

  Despite von Sulzbach’s probably intentional choice of informal language, the entire exchange felt stilted and forced to Roslyn. On the other hand, she’d never seen a switchover of personal bodyguard forces before.

  “This is my Flag Lieutenant, Mage-Lieutenant Roslyn Chambers,” Alexander continued after a moment of awkward silence. “She’ll be your main point of contact for my staff and for Durendal’s crew.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” von Sulzbach confirmed. “I have a team picked out to accompany you for the rest of the day while I coordinate with your people.”

  “That won’t be necessary aboard Durendal,” Alexander said firmly.

  “I have to differ, Your Highness,” the Guard officer replied. “We have seen vast evidence that the RID has infiltrated the Royal Navy. While we believe those infiltrators were neutralized, there remains the possibility of a second wave of infiltration or that a secondary group were infiltrated without informing our defectors.

  “Even aboard RMN warships, your security is not without question. I will have to insist on a minimum of a two-Guard detail at all times.”

  Roslyn could tell that Alexander wanted to shut him down, but instead, she swallowed and nodded.

  “Very well, Guard-Captain,” she told him. “I have every reason to trust Durendal’s crew, but if it will make you more comfortable, I will permit it. But if your detail causes trouble, we will be changing that very quickly. Do you understand me?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  “And, Guard-Captain?”

  “Yes, Your Highness?”

  “It’s Mage-Admiral,” Alexander told him. “You may be here because of my royal title and place in the succession, but I am here to do a damned job and I will not permit you to interfere. Am I understood?”

  “Yes…Mage-Admiral.”

  Roslyn spent, on average, less than three hours a day in her office. Most of her time was either spent one step to the left and behind Admiral Alexander or on the flag bridge. She handled her messages mostly from her wrist-comp, but there were definitely some tasks that having a proper console and wallscreen made easier.

  Most of them involved some variety of spreadsheet, and she was nibbling on a lock of hair wrapped around her finger, studying the numbers on how the addition of the Guard troops and their officers would change the allocation of Alexander’s available “answering messages and dealing with minor crises” minutes when her door chime sounded.

  She unwrapped the hair from her finger and checked the camera. The only real surprise, she supposed, was that von Sulzbach had managed to find a time when she was in her office on his first day on the dreadnought.

  “Come in, Guard-Captain,” she told him.

  Von Sulzbach was still in his red exosuit, though he at least had the helmet retracted again. He was younger than she would have expected, though the mixed-racial features of a Martian native made that hard to judge sometimes, with dark brown hair and the kind of deep brown eyes she could get lost in.

  Which was a terrible idea and she tried to conceal giving herself a shake. It had clearly been far too long since she’d managed to get personal time. Since…before the Battle of Nia Kriti, she realized.

  Being part of the Admiral’s staff during a war didn’t leave much time for flings, let alone relationships…but she probably needed to sort out something sooner rather than later.

  If only to stop herself making eyes at the Admiral’s bodyguard!

  “How can I help you, Captain von Sulzbach?” she asked as he stopped in front of her desk, clearly settling into his armor. “I’d offer you a seat, but…”

  “The armor handles that,” he told her. “The Admiral said I’d be going through you to interface with her staff and Durendal’s crew.”

  “So she did,” Roslyn confirmed. “I’m at your disposal, of course, though I have a lot going on. What do you need?”

  “A few things,” von Sulzbach said with a grin. “First, the quarters we’ve been assigned are more than acceptable except for one problem: we’re not nearly close enough to the Admiral. We’re going to need to be relocated to make certain we’re quartered around her so no one can reach her quarters without going past us.”

  “That makes sense, I suppose,” she admitted. “I’ll coordinate with the stewarding staff and get that sorted out. We might not be able to move all of you over, but I suspect putting guards in quarters around the Admiral at least passed the designers’ minds.”

  “I’d hope so,” the Guard replied. “I’ll admit I haven’t seen the full schematics for this ship yet, either, but that’s less critical. For the moment, we’re mostly standing guard on the Admiral’s spaces and following her around like lost puppies.”

  “You should have been sent some when you were assigned,” Roslyn said, pursing her lips.

  “Never received them, I’m afraid,” he admitted. “Can you make sure my people get those, too?”

  “I can. You’ll have them by the end of the day,” she promised. “Anything else?”

  “Speaking of stewarding staff, we brought a small team of food-prep staff from the Mountain,” he told her. “My review so far suggests that the Admiral’s food is being prepared by Durendal’s crew.” He shook his head. “That’s not acceptable for the Crown Princess of Mars’s security. The team we brought will take over all of Her Highness’s food, both personal and meetings.

  “We can’t have her eating or drinking anything that hasn’t been validated by my people,” he said firmly. “Even aboard Durendal, she is more vulnerable than she seems to believe.”

  “This ship was the most classified secret project the Protectorate had,” Roslyn pointed out gently. “Everyone aboard has cleared the highest and tightest security restrictions, Guard-Captain.”

  “Maybe, but so had the Mage-Admiral’s previous operations officer, yes?” von Sulzbach pointed out. “The one that was a Republic plant?”

  Roslyn swallowed. She’d almost forgotten about that. That officer had committed suicide when confronted, which was how Kulkarni had ended up in the job. Alexander had been working aboard a regular battleship then, but the point still stood.

  “Fair,” she conceded. “I can tell you already, though, that Admiral Alexander will be concerned about offending the Navy personnel and leaving them feeling untrusted.”

  “We will offend the Navy personnel,” von Sulzbach said bluntly. “And they will feel untrusted because I don’t trust them. Admiral Alexander has to trust them to do her job. I have to distrust them to do mine.

  “We will push each other until we find a compromise, but right now we need to err on the side of complete caution, Mage-Lieutenant.” He smiled. “I promise you, I’m not a complete hard-ass, but my job is to keep the Crown Princess of Mars alive.

  “I do not give a single rat’s ass if people around me hate me for it.”

  14

  “First-wave bombardment initiating in sixty seconds.”

  Kulkarni’s words were soft but they echoed in the silence of Durendal’s flag bridge. The dreadnought was one of only ten ships that had moved closer to the planet: the two dreadnoughts and the eight new Salamander-class cruisers.

  The Royal Martian Navy was very strict on who even had access to the schematics for their orbital impactors. There were a lot of ways to build cheap and dirty weapons to fall from orbit, but precision space-to-surface weapons were rare.

  The Talon Nine carried by the newest ships was, like the Phoenix IX it had accompanied, stil
l a new weapon in limited supply. Unlike the Phoenixes, though, the Talon Nine had yet to be used outside of testing.

  “Targets are locked in. Bombardment squadron reports ready to deploy,” the operations officer continued.

  It was taking active effort for Roslyn not to hold her breath. To distract herself, she took a quick look around the flag bridge. The newest addition to the bridge definitely took her focus away from the maneuvers she couldn’t affect.

  Even after three days, Roslyn wasn’t used to having exosuited guards on the flag bridge. Two red-armored Royal Guards flanked each of the room’s entrances, making sure that no one could enter the space occupied by the Mage-Admiral without authorization.

  Their presence was making the crew twitchy. Most of the people Roslyn had talked to understood where the Royal Guard were coming from, but the sudden intrusion of a non-Navy security presence was still…creating friction.

  “Fifteen seconds,” Kulkarni reported. “Admiral?”

  “Proceed,” Alexander ordered.

  The icons of the invasion fleet were gathering behind them. The Third Battle Group had arrived on schedule, which meant that there were now one hundred and fifty transports carrying over a million soldiers waiting on this mission to succeed.

  “Commencing Talon Nine deployment,” Kulkarni said quietly. “Two hundred twenty munitions in space, impact in ten minutes.”

  The Talon Sevens and Eights that Roslyn had trained on had been shorter-ranged systems, built around the expectation that the Royal Martian Navy could easily secure the orbitals of a planet. No one had ever expected to face a situation where the RMN would be facing sufficiently powerful ground-based defenses that they couldn’t safely enter orbit of a planet.

  Like many situations the RMN was now facing, a failure to anticipate fighting a peer power was giving them headaches today.

  “Prepping the next wave of impactors.”

  To provide it with its longer range and its powerful onboard targeting systems, the Talon Nine was a far larger munition than its older siblings. The Nine could only be launched from the systems intended for the Samurai long-range missiles.