Vanguard

by Jack Campbell

  “Sir? Lieutenant? He’s in bad shape! Didn’t you guys notice the hole in his suit? Get that medic we captured up here!”

  Rob wasn’t sure what the voices were saying, and he was too tired to care any longer. He felt a darkness deeper than space filling him and finally gave in to it.

  • • •

  Mele sat on top of a bunker, watching with a dull lack of interest as her volunteers searched the Scathan soldiers who had been taken prisoner, ensuring none had any weapons hidden. Scatha had lost a dozen more soldiers in the attack, meaning the original hundred were down to close to fifty. They stared at her through the open faceplates of their battle armor like men and women who were watching a dragon that had devoured their friends.

  “Major,” Riley said. His ready smile wasn’t there anymore, replaced by a grim seriousness. “It looks like we have ten killed and a dozen wounded. I’ll have to pull another muster to be sure.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” Mele said. “That’s . . . better than I expected. You did a great job.”

  Riley looked puzzled and on the verge of crying. “Tina and Rolf died.”

  They had been in his diversion force, Mele remembered. “You did your best,” she told him.

  “It hurts,” he said, sounding like a confused child.

  “It’s going to hurt,” she said. “It won’t stop hurting ever. But you can live with it. We both can. We’ll both have to.”

  “Yes.” He straightened and saluted her.

  She remembered how absurdly proud Riley had been of learning how to salute properly. Mele, grimacing from the pain of her hip wound and moving awkwardly from the field bandage on it, came to her feet, tried to return the salute with her right hand, grimaced again as her broken collarbone protested, and settled for rendering the best return salute she could with her left hand. “You did good,” she told Riley.

  “Major? Major!” Mele looked toward her control pad as she heard the thin sound, and with a third grimace, this one of annoyance, reached for the headset. “Major!” Council President Chisholm, calling from Glenlyon, sounded elated.

  “Yeah,” she said, feeling exhausted from the fight and the casualties sustained, and angry that anyone so far from the fight would feel entitled to celebrate the victory. “What is it?”

  “We just heard from Lieutenant Geary on the enemy ship! The crew of the Squall captured the enemy destroyer before their own ship blew up!”

  She blinked, thinking that she must have misheard. “They’re alive?”

  “Most of them,” Chisholm said, her enthusiasm faltering a little. “I think. Some . . . died. But they captured the enemy warship and damaged the enemy freighter, and it is fleeing back to the jump point. We won in space as well as on the land! What a glorious day for the people of Glenlyon!”

  “How the hell . . .” Mele looked upward, where a few clouds barely blocked the blue of the noon sky, trying to grasp the news. “Rob Geary is alive? His ship was about to blow up, so he captured the enemy ship?”

  “Yes, Major, that is what we think happened.”

  Mele started laughing. She couldn’t help it, gazing up at where the stars hid behind the sky of day. “He should have been a Marine.”

  “What?”

  “Lieutenant Geary. He’s crazier than I am. He should have been a Marine.” She took a deep breath. “Tell him I said that. And tell Ninja he made it.”

  “Why would Ninja—?”

  “Never mind. I can do it. Can you patch me into the city comm net?” That would have been impossible when Scatha’s forces were jamming signals, but now it should be easy to do.

  “Uh, yes, Major, I’m told that can be done. Voice only. Congratulations again from the council and people of Glenlyon! Wait. All right. You can call.”

  Mele tabbed the contact and waited until Ninja answered.

  “I already heard,” Ninja said in a voice devoid of feeling. “I was listening in on the official comms.”

  “No, you didn’t hear,” Mele said. “No, you heard wrong. That’s it. Your boy is okay, Ninja. He made it.”

  “The ship—” Ninja began, her voice suddenly faint.

  “Yeah, it blew up. But he captured the enemy ship before it did. I guess he wanted to get back here pretty badly, huh?”

  “He . . . he . . .” Ninja couldn’t speak for a moment. “How about you?”

  “I’m all right,” Mele said. “A little banged up. We won here, too. What kind of hacker are you that I have to tell you everything?”

  “Mele Darcy, if you are lying to me—”

  “It’s all true, Ninja.” Mele looked out across Scatha’s base at the ranks of surrendered soldiers. “I guess somebody likes us.”

  “I guess,” Ninja said. “Excuse me . . . I have to go light a candle.”

  Chapter 15

  Something didn’t seem right. Rob blinked his eyes. He was in a bed. No, not just a bed. A medical unit was strapped across his abdomen, status lights glowing softly. Someone had been smart enough to design the unit so that every light facing him was a reassuring green.

  What was wrong? Aside from his being in a hospital.

  He wasn’t on a ship. This was a building. Hadn’t he been on a ship?

  “Hey.”

  Rob looked over to see Ninja beside his bed. She appeared to be exhausted, but she was smiling. “You look awful,” Rob blurted out, his thoughts still fuzzy.

  “You ought to see yourself. And I wouldn’t look like this if I hadn’t spent the last few days sitting by this bed, waiting for you to wake up.”

  He stared at her. “What happened? How did I get here?”

  “They managed to get you into a medical hibernation unit long enough for the ship from Kosatka—”

  “What ship from Kosatka?”

  “The ship from Kosatka,” Ninja repeated, smiling at him indulgently. “It jumped in several hours after you’d captured the destroyer. Just an armed freighter, but Kosatka sent help just as soon as they could spare it. To return the favor to Glenlyon for the heroic actions of the heroic Lieutenant Rob Geary who saved Kosatka. Once they’d intercepted you, they towed the destroyer into orbit, and a shuttle brought you down to see if we could save your reckless life despite all your attempts to throw it away.”

  It was a bit much to take in. Rob closed his eyes, then opened them again quickly, afraid that this time Ninja wouldn’t be there. But she was real, not a hallucination. “I don’t know how many people we lost. From the crew of Squall. Did we lose a lot?”

  Ninja looked down, biting her lip. “I can get the names for you. Later.”

  “Danielle Martel. I saw her get hit.”

  “Yeah. Um . . . you also have to think about how many you saved. From your crew and here on the ground by stopping that destroyer. That’s really big, Rob. How many you saved.” She met his gaze again, trying to smile as she patted her lower abdomen. “And you need to think about our little fork here, who is going to have both of us around. That’s kind of important, right?”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted you guys to be alone,” Rob said. “I was afraid that . . . that . . .” He suddenly had trouble speaking, unable to get any words out as emotions and memories of recent events blocked his throat.

  “Hey, hey,” Ninja said, looking distressed as she reassured him. “We’re okay now. We’re safe. Glenlyon is safe. And Mele’s okay. Did you know that? She captured Scatha’s base. Mele says she’s going to make you an honorary Marine.”

  He did his best to smile in return even though he didn’t feel like it. “I guess that’s better than any medal, though Glenlyon doesn’t have any medals to hand out.”

  “They need to make some, so they can give you one.”

  “No.” Rob shook his head at Ninja, his heart pounding and breath feeling short as he relived in his mind the assault on the destroyer, the men and women
on both sides falling, the fears and emotions he had tried to wall off during the actual events. “I don’t deserve any medal. Those should go to people like Sergeant Grant Duncan. Oh, hell. Somebody told me he was killed. And Danielle, if she’s . . . They deserve medals.”

  The lights flickered on the medical unit and Rob felt a wave of drowsiness.

  “It’s giving you sedation,” Ninja said. “To keep you from overexerting. Relax. You’ve earned the rest.”

  He didn’t fight the sleep, surrendering gladly, happy that Ninja was here, and he was here, and not wanting to think about those who weren’t.

  • • •

  Drake Porter stopped by the next day, anxious over Rob’s injuries but also unmistakably carrying a heavy load of personal sorrow. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, Rob.”

  “I’ll live,” Rob said, not knowing how to ask the question he probably already knew the answer to.

  Drake looked down, his voice roughening. “Uh . . . Danielle . . . died. I don’t know if anyone’s told you.”

  He felt a wave of darkness press down on his mind. “No. Damn. I am so sorry, Drake.”

  “Yeah,” Drake Porter said, still keeping his face averted. Drake didn’t say anything for a couple of moments, trying to compose himself, then nodded toward Rob. “I wanted you to know I’m not going to stay on with the volunteer crew. I mean, there’s no ship anymore unless they get that destroyer fixed up, but even if they do I . . . I don’t want to go up again. I’m going to go back to working the kind of job I signed up for with the colony.”

  “I understand,” Rob said, feeling helpless in the face of Drake’s distress. “You’ve already done a tremendous job, and you’ve . . . taken a serious loss. No one could ask more of you. If you ever need anything, Drake, you just let me know. Anything. We’ll always be shipmates.”

  “Sure,” Drake Porter said, finally looking back at Rob. “You, too. You saved us, you know. We’d have all died out there, and Glenlyon would’ve been helpless. All of us who were out there know that. Hell, I was ready to give up. I know if you could’ve, you would have saved . . . everyone. If you ever need me, you just tell me. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Rob watched Drake Porter walk out alone, wishing that somehow he could’ve done things just enough differently that Danielle Martel was walking out beside Drake. But, perhaps, in a way, she always would be beside Drake Porter, a memory of a future that never was that would always haunt Drake no matter what else happened in his life.

  Much later, he woke up to see Council Member Leigh Camagan standing in the room. “Please sit down.”

  Leigh Camagan sat down next to Rob’s bed. For the first time he could recall, she looked openly angry.

  “Did I do something?” Rob asked.

  “Everything you should have and more,” she replied. “I have some news from the council. The council has voted to formally thank you for your heroism in repelling the attack on this star system by Scatha. The resolution expressing their thanks will be made part of the public record for the star system of Glenlyon.”

  “Thank you,” Rob said, not knowing what to say but thinking that he needed to say something.

  “For what?” Leigh Camagan asked. “It was the least they could do. I mean that literally. They did the least possible. There will be no tangible sign of their thanks. Nothing that would have incurred any expense on their part.”

  Rob blinked several times, tried to shrug, found it difficult with the med unit still on his abdomen, and settled for nodding to her. “I didn’t do anything hoping for some reward,” he said, and that much was true. He did feel some disappointment but refused to openly admit to it because he had never liked those who actively sought awards. “Why do I think there’s another shoe about to drop?”

  “Another ship has arrived at Glenlyon,” Leigh Camagan said. “It included among its passengers a representative of individuals on Old Earth. He carried with him offers for star systems here in the down and out. If Glenlyon was willing to employ former officers and sailors of Earth Fleet, they would themselves arrange the purchase of their former warships, decommissioned destroyers, and enter the service of Glenlyon.”

  That was good, wasn’t it? Rob tried to shrug again and gave it up. “Why are you saying that like you’re giving me bad news?”

  “As part of the agreement, a Commodore Hopkins will become head of Glenlyon’s new fleet. He has glowing fitness reports from Earth Fleet.”

  “That’s . . . nice. I guess I’ve been expecting something like that,” Rob said. And he had been because, after all, he had only been a lieutenant in the fleet of Alfar and couldn’t expect to vault to higher rank and responsibilities. But it still didn’t feel great. “What are they offering me?”

  Leigh Camagan didn’t answer, looking away.

  “Council Member Camagan,” Rob said, “aren’t they offering me something? I mean, I think I did a good job on Squall.”

  Leigh Camagan met his gaze. “You did an amazing job on Squall. That creates problems for those worried about the impact of professional militaries on a free society and whether or not military heroes might reach for political power.”

  “What?” Rob felt as confused as he had after being shot.

  “The representative of the former Earth Fleet crews made it clear that all officer positions on the ships were to be considered taken since the former Earth Fleet commanders wanted people they knew. The council accepted that condition over my objection.”

  “Oh. Only your objection? I thought Council Member Kim would—”

  “Council Member Kim saw an opportunity to quickly acquire two warships for Glenlyon. Council Member Kim is perfectly willing to sacrifice other individuals in pursuit of what he considers worthy goals,” Leigh Camagan said. “Bellicose people tend to be like that. Sticking up for you would have meant creating problems with the deal to get the warships. He was already eager to send you into life-and-death situations. Why would he hesitate to sacrifice your career?”

  Rob, his thoughts swirling, could only nod again. “What’s happening to me, then?”

  “The council is willing, in light of your past service to Glenlyon, to offer you a position in fleet support.”

  “Fleet support?”

  “Liaison for military matters.” Leigh Camagan paused. “Liaison from fleet staff to council staff. Duties to be defined.”

  “They want to make me a gofer?” Rob asked, too stunned to think clearly. “That’s it? The guy who gets the coffee at meetings?”

  “I’m sure you would assist the commodore in matters such as making sure he had his coffee,” Leigh Camagan confirmed. “Rob, I’m sorry. I fought this as hard as I could but, unlike you and Mele Darcy, I lost. The only redeeming aspect of the deal is that the position you’re being offered would finally formalize your rank as a lieutenant but make you junior to every new officer being brought in from Earth.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I wish I were.”

  “So, as of now,” Rob said, “even now, I’m still not yet officially, formally, a lieutenant in Glenlyon’s fleet? I’d only get that rank if I agree to that assignment?”

  “Yes. It’s not as if there is a ship for you to command before the former Earth Fleet warships get here. That destroyer you captured is hopelessly damaged.”

  Rob heard himself laugh. “And my reward for defeating that attack on this star system is for me to be given a position as sort of a junior intern to the Earth Fleet officers coming in?”

  “Yes.”

  He remembered Danielle Martel, Earth Fleet veteran, choosing . . . choosing . . . to call him captain. Rob’s thoughts steadied, showing two clear vectors he could take away from this moment. He had no trouble deciding on the one he wanted to take. “Council Member Camagan, can you please inform the council for me that they can go to hell? I hereby, formally and o
fficially, resign any informal assignment I had with the council. They can take their official offer and stick it somewhere uncomfortable.”

  Leigh Camagan nodded to him. “I expected you would say that. And, to be honest, I was hoping you would. You got outmaneuvered politically, Rob. There’s no shame in that. And considerable pride in knowing what you accomplished with the most minimal of resources. I assure you that you will always have at least one true friend on the council as long as I am a member.”

  “Thank you. What about people like Danielle and the others who died?”

  “That’s still being debated,” Leigh Camagan said. “They’ll probably get a monument, a memorial, in a prominent place. I’m going to insist on pensions for surviving family members.”

  “Good,” Rob said, and meant it. “They deserve that. But Danielle Martel didn’t have any family members here.”

  Leigh Camagan sighed. “I don’t know what else we can do for her. She died fighting for us, which should count far more than anything else about her. If someone can break the codes protecting Danielle Martel’s personal files, they might at least learn who we should tell on Old Earth.”

  “I’ll ask Ninja to do that. Danielle Martel was . . . important. I don’t just mean in the things she did. Also in what she talked to me about. I didn’t understand how important my example might be, but she made me think about that. Glenlyon will be the better for it.”

  Leigh Camagan nodded to him, her eyes thoughtful. “The official histories may not note her contribution. They may not note yours since they’ll be written by a military bureaucracy yet to come into existence. I encourage you to do what you can to keep the memory of her role alive. And as for you, Rob Geary, you still have your life and a future to chart your own course, and that means more than any monument, as I’m sure you realize. Glenlyon owes a lot to you even if it prefers at the moment to brush under the rug just how badly you were supported and equipped while saving everyone else. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll pull whatever strings I can.”