10
As quickly as the Task Force had been authorized, formed, and embarked, it wasn’t quick enough. When TF 46-3 arrived at their target, the Frisians had beat them to it. Two Frisian Host ships straddled the asteroid belt, and upon the arrival of the Union/Heg task force, had sent out a message on the universal channel that they were invoking CoH regulations on the exploration of unincorporated space.
That indicated two things. First, the Frisians were aware of what the interrogation of the Children of Angels prisoner had revealed, not that that was surprising. Second, they were not going to simply cede whatever it was to the Perseus Union without a fight. Rev didn’t know if the Frisians were at the other two locations, which them being within Union space, might make that more problematic. But here, in unincorporated space, they were willing to risk war. Again. San Jacinto was only three months ago.
With the Frisians already searching, the PUNS Restore and two of the Navy combatants were diverted to the asteroid belt, and First and Second Raider Teams were cross-decked to the Alacrity. TF 46-3 was now a larger, more powerful force, but outright war was not something the admiral wanted to put on her shoulders alone, especially when there might not be anything in the belt. It took an hour for the orders to come back from New Mars—deploy in an aggressive formation, but do not engage for the moment. Most importantly, if there was a Centaur installation within the belt, find it and claim it before the Frisians could.
If the Frisians found it first, the Directorate would decide upon the next course of action. Rev didn’t know what that actually meant, what actions were on the table, so it would just be better if they found the installation first and made the Frisian presence moot.
Finding anything, however, wasn’t going to be easy. Asteroid Belt 6-067 was made up of densely packed nickel-iron asteroids covering 1,200 kiloklicks—which was nothing in deep space but was a huge area in which to find a specific installation. The task force would be relying on scanning to identify possible targets, but the nickel-iron asteroids wreaked havoc on their instruments.
So, the Navy SEALs were now tasked to birddog the Frisians at a distance to keep tabs on them. Squads from XI Force and the Union’s Delta Company were sent out on what were essentially patrols, checking potential sites, while Rev and the Raider platoons were being kept aboard the Alacrity. If nothing was found, Rev would never leave the confines of the ship, keeping the IBHU program secret of another day.
But if there was real evidence of a Centaur installation or artifact, then the Raiders would spring into action with the mission of taking it intact, whether it was being defended or not. And the assumption was that it would be.
There were several issues, however, with taking an installation inside of an asteroid. The first was that the intel indicated that the installation was protected by a small number, maybe only two or three, Centaurs. Within the probable confines of an asteroid, a couple of Centaurs might very well be able to pull a Horatius at the bridge scenario, holding back any number of Marines thrown at them.
Second, they may not simply try to hold the Marines off. Given their proclivity for self-destruction, they might do that with the entire artifact. Even if the artifact itself wasn’t rigged to blow, Rev had seen what a Centaur self-destructing could do in the open. In a closed area, the destruction would be magnified.
The Marines’ one ace in the hole was the modifications done to his IBHU beamer. In normal usage, the employment of the braided beams ablated in an atmosphere, but this fight was going to be in space. Knowing that, and using the data collected on Donner Hide, his beamer had been tweaked, giving it not only more power, but focused on the frequencies that the science-types thought initiated the self-destruction. It was possible that with a super-blast of his beamer, he could not only kill a Centaur but also keep if from self-destructing.
When Rev had asked what the possibility of that was, after some hemming and hawing, they told him from forty to fifty percent, depending on what type of Centaur awaited them. Punch put the number closer to twenty percent. Rev was going with Punch’s calculations.
Captain Omestori had the Raiders working out scenario after possible scenario. Without a combat sim, they couldn’t do a total walk-though, but he’d gone as far as having the ship’s captain use pallets to create a constrained path in one half of the hangar deck, simulating corridors inside an asteroid.
Rev felt a little ridiculous walking around the hangar, shouting “Bang, bang” during the rehearsals, but after a few of them, he could see their benefits. It was better than nothing.
After the first day, however, the captain came down with an unidentified virus and was put into isolation. Second Lieutenant Harisa took over with Top Thapa assisting, but the hangar rehearsals petered out with the intent of keeping everyone fresh and rested.
That meant that while Navy Scouts were carefully navigating the belt, looking for anomalies, Rev and the Raiders were cooling their heels on a five-minute alert, which for Rev, meant in his EVA combat suit, helmet off, left arm already sealed shut. And after two fruitless days, he was getting mighty sick of it. He almost wanted to start rehearsing again, just for something to do.
“You think they’ll find anything?” Tomiko asked for about the hundredth time as they sat in their little section of the hangar playing Knock On.
“I’m beginning to doubt it. I mean, I know there’re a zillion hunks of rock out there, but if there is anything to it, how come the Navy hasn’t spotted it yet?” Nix said.
“It’s all an angel shit trick. I told you that,” Hussein said. Also, for the hundredth time. “They just want us to waste resources. I mean, why would the tin-asses stick something important out here in human space, then only have a couple of them protect it? Makes no damned sense.”
“Why do the tin-asses do anything they do?” Tomiko said.
Staff Sergeant Delacrie shook his head and said, “You heard intel. They didn’t want an obvious footprint. We’ve been gaining ground on them, slowly but surely, and if they had a big operation, we would’ve spotted it by now.”
“And how do they know that? ’Cause an angel shit told them so? Like Miko said, we don’t know why they do anything.”
Rev just shut his eyes and leaned back the best he could on a bench one of the Navy mechs made for him. He reeked, the smell making its way up through the helmet ring. Yesterday, he told the crew that he thought the plumbing was wonky, but after a quick check, he was assured it was working as designed. He still reeked, though, and he noticed that the others were giving him more than the normal space.
He loved his team, but sitting with them like this on the hangar deck could get on anyone’s nerves. And they could leave and go to the head, sleep on the cots set up along the bulkhead, or even take a quick shower. Rev was stuck in his suit until this played out, one way or the other.
* * *
The alarm sounded the next day, shocking Rev out of his catnap. He jumped up, looking for his helmet. The entire platoon was scrambling to their feet.
“Get kitted up,” Lieutenant Harisa shouted as she grabbed her helmet and put it on her head, not bothering to first don the rest of her EVA suit.
Sailors rushed over to help, one grabbing Rev’s helmet. “Ready?”
Rev nodded, and with sure hands, the sailor slipped it over Rev’s head and double-twisted it to lock it in place. A blast of body odor hit him, but with the helmet in place, the air started circulating through the filters. He activated the system and ran his checks.
“This is it. We have a target,” the lieutenant said as she started to get into her own EVA.
“What about the captain? Is he coming?” Staff Sergeant Delacrie asked.
“Still in isolation. I’m in command. We have positive contact, Asteroid 6-067-442. I’m sending over the data now.”
There was a beep, and Rev’s EVA received the orders, displaying the location of the target. A red line tracked the intended course of the shuttle that would take them there.
“Board as soon as you check green.”
Rev was the closest to the ramp, and he ran up and to his usual rear right seat. Within moments, Marines were rushing in and taking seats.
“I’m sending the mission, but we do have what is probably a hit. It looks like the Fries have entered the target, though.”
The mission appeared on his face shield. It was one that they’d rehearsed in the hangar deck at least ten times. Third Team, with Rev, was the point of main effort, and Second Team would be the support element going inside with Third. First and Fourth would remain on the surface of the asteroid as the security element, ready to take over if the other two teams were taken down.
The back ramp closed, and the shuttle departed the ship. The Alacrity normally carried only the standard Ibis shuttles, but for this mission, an Osprey had been brought aboard. Used for ship-boarding, it was fast and maneuverable—but the target was well within the asteroid belt, so it was still going to take over thirty minutes to make the transit. And if the intel was right, the Frisians had already entered the asteroid. The objective had been for Delta Company to locate the target first and not have the Raiders play catch-up.
But operations rarely proceeded planned, and the Marines were nothing if not flexible. Lieutenant Harisa spent the next twenty minutes adjusting their plan on the cuff, trying to foresee the potential roadblocks.
“And if the Frisians resist our arrival?” Top Thapa asked. “Has the commodore officially weighed in?”
He was going to be on the asteroid’s surface with First and Fourth Teams, but it was a valid question. It had been discussed, of course, but Rev knew the Top wanted it said out loud.
“There’s no change. We are to get to the artifacts first, and we have the green light to defend ourselves.”
Which wasn’t an answer. What every Marine understood was that they had to recover the artifacts, doing whatever it took. But probably going all the way to the Director Prime himself, they were not going to be given explicit orders to kill Frisians.
Which put them into a difficult position, and it was why Rev had been counting on Delta Company finding the target first. He’d served with the Frisians, and he respected them. He hoped that it would not devolve into fighting.
“Let’s go over this again. I want to make sure . . . wait one. I’m getting an update,” the lieutenant said. She listened for a moment, then told them, “The target is hot. There’s been an explosion, and it looks like we’ve lost a SEAL team.”
“How the hell did that happen?” Top asked. “The SEALS were not supposed to engage. Did the Fries attack them?”
Rev felt the familiar surge of adrenaline as he got his combat on. He didn’t want a fight, but he couldn’t help the rush of excitement. He was by now convinced that this was all artificial, but knowing that didn’t change anything.
“It’s . . . I don’t have everything. It looks like the SEALs followed the Frisians inside an opening in the asteroid, and there’s been an explosion. I . . . wait, I’m getting new orders now.”
Rev wanted to curse the EVA suits. Unlike when in his PAL-5, his comms were more limited, and he wanted to be able to monitor the command net to know what was going on.
“ . . . we’re still on. There’s what looks like another opening on the other side of the target. We’re to conduct a hostile entry,” the lieutenant said, her voice rising in excitement.
Rev had accepted the artificial adrenaline boost for him as a fighter, but he’d really rather have his officers working without chemical stimulation.
“One of the Navy scouts is scanning the asteroid now, so stand by.”
Tomiko used the hand and arm signal to ask him, “Are you ready?”
He signed back that he was.
“Then let’s kick some ass.” Or, to be more accurate, she gave the hand signs for “attack-full strength-victory.”
His thumbs-up reply was more universally understood.
He sat in silence as the Osprey entered the belt. He had to trust the Navy autopilot to navigate through the rocks and get them to the target in one piece. But for once, he wasn’t anxious when his life was in someone else’s hands. He was excited, the blood pounding through his system, but at the same time, he was more concerned with what they were facing. Not the Centaurs. He’d faced them before. But the Frisians. He would do what he had to do, but he would really rather avoid a fight with them.
It was a weird feeling, both amped and ready for combat but hesitant at the same time. And he didn’t like it. Conflicted Marines were likely to become dead Marines.
“I’m uploading the survey,” the lieutenant said a moment before a 3D scan of the asteroid popped up on his face shield.
Asteroid 6-067-442 was 876 meters along the longest axis and ranging from 140 to 358 meters at the widest point along the cross axis. Slightly banana-shaped, it was a big hunk of nickel-iron. The scan revealed that it had been laced with tunnels and several larger open sections. The mere density of the nickel-iron kept much of the detail hidden, but the paths of the tunnels, which looked to have slight zig-zags along their length, were reasonably clear.
An entrance into the asteroid started thirty-one meters from one of the asteroid’s ends, and approximately ninety meters from that entrance, the image glowed orange, a computer aid in showing where the explosion had taken place. That was where SEALs, and presumably Frisian Host soldiers, had died.
The asteroid didn’t look warped or damaged around the blast site, but it could probably take tactical nukes without any degree of destruction, and even a cruiser’s meson cannons would take a long time to burn their way through the mass of metal.
An arrow appeared at one of the openings at the other side of the asteroid, then a path snaked through the tunnels until it reached another larger cavity.
“This is our point of entry. We don’t know if it’s sealed off or not. Sergeant Incrit-Kole will conduct the recon and breach it if it looks feasible. Otherwise, we’ll be using the drill to gain egress.”
The drill was the multi-tool breaching system on the shuttle designed to do anything from creating an air-lock breach into a ship through which Marines or sailors could board their target to a destructive decompression.
More control symbols appeared as the lieutenant emplaced them. Second Team was the breaching force and would proceed twenty meters down the chosen passage where Third, with Rev on point, would conduct a passage of lines and become the lead element. First and Fourth would remain outside of the asteroid. Fourth, armed with a compact but powerful pack cannon, would be defending against possible Centaur reinforcement, while First would be the mobile reaction force, ready to repel Frisian troops or become the point of main effort should something happen to Second.
None of this was new to them. Every Marine and sailor knew their task in the mission, but with the map, they now knew where everything would take place. This was getting real.
“Give me another systems check.”
<System Green. Power reserves at ninety-eight-point-six percent.>
“Five minutes. First wave, get ready,” the lieutenant ordered.
First Wave consisted of the entire platoon except for Second Team. Without the need to breach with an assault airlock, the Marines would exit the back ramp under their own power, then fly to the target while the shuttle’s lone gun covered them. Fourth would debark first and set up security, followed by First and then Second. First would stay aboard until the asteroid was breached.
The Marines stood by the back ramp, waiting for it to open, like Earth WWII soldiers waiting to hit Omaha Beach. In their EVA suits, they were far more vulnerable should the Centaurs have a surprise waiting for them.
“We’re getting an update,” the lieutenant passed. “Shit, another flight of Fries are on the asteroid. How the hell are we just finding out now? Standby while I get some orders.”
Rev’s heart gave a lurch. If the Frisians were already there, the chances there would be a fight increased by a hundred-fold. To avoid that, they’d just have to get to the target chamber first. There was no other way about it.
“Damn crayons,” Tomiko said, using her favorite slang for the Frisians. “They really don’t want to tangle with us.”
“And we don’t want to tangle with them, if we can help it.”
“It’s on them if we do.”
Thirty seconds later, there was a slight vibration and momentary dimming of the lights. Rev knew what it was. The shuttle had fired its cannon. And unless it was at an approaching Centaur force, things had just gotten serious. Tomiko looked over at Rev, raising one eyebrow.
“We just engaged the Fries with a warning shot,” the lieutenant relayed to the platoon. “Hopefully, that’ll stop them.”
Rev was relieved. A warning shot was not war . . . yet.
The shuttles interior lights flashed amber for ten seconds, then went a solid green as the back ramp quickly opened. The three teams cascaded out the back and disappeared from sight as they raced for their positions.
Top Thapa passed, “The Fries are inside. I repeat, they are inside the asteroid. Should we pursue?”
“That’s a negative,” the lieutenant said. “Third Team, debark now. Get to the opening and wait.”
Rev was already moving. He activated his impellers as he ran to the ramp and dove forward. As soon as he cleared the ramp, he was out of the artificial gravity and in open space for the first time in his life. The vastness hit him hard in wonder, and he wanted to just drink it in, but he had his mission. He slowly brought himself around until he was facing the asteroid. Marines were already on the surface, moving around. One of the Marines from Second Team had a beacon on his suit, and Rev adjusted his course and surged forward.
A mere nano-speck within the vastness of the galaxy, Asteroid 6-067-442 loomed huge in Rev’s horizon. Pockmarked with meteor and other asteroid hits, it looked like a war zone, something Rev hoped wasn’t an omen.
Lieutenant Harisa passed, “There is no barrier at the entrance. We’re entering the tunnel.”
Too quickly, Rev and Third Team arrived. Rev neatly slowed down and came to a stop three meters from the mouth of the tunnel. Despite the gravity of the situation, he felt a little surge of pride as this was his first actual EVA.
The rest of the team arrived alongside him, waiting for the word to enter. Scattered around this end of the asteroid, the other two teams were well dispersed. Rev wondered where the Frisians had entered, and he was just about to ask the staff sergeant if he could find out when Sergeant Minnow Krill appeared at the entrance to the hole.
“Comms are almost useless inside, so the lieutenant sent me to get you. We’re set up about forty meters in.”
“You heard him,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie said. “Let’s move out.”
Rev was the point for this effort, so he maneuvered his EVA, orienting himself to the tunnel, and flew ahead. His infrared lantern lit up the tunnel, making it as light as day through his face shield.
Immediately inside the entrance, the tunnel made a hard dogleg left, then after only another ten meters, it doubled back to the right. Rev had seen the slight serrations in the tunnels on the chart of the asteroid, but he hadn’t realized they would be this severe. It made sense when considering a defensive posture, but if that was the case, where were the Centaurs? They had a habit, much like the Japanese defenders of the island during Earth’s World War II, of allowing the assaulting force to land lightly or unopposed, then hit them while the forces were extended.
Second Team was still ahead of Rev and Third, but in a few minutes, Rev would be the lead Marine, and he needed to be ready if the Centaurs were about to spring a trap.
Inside the asteroid, it wasn’t just comms that were messed up. His augmented navigation was useless, of course, as it relied on a planet’s magnetic fields. But the hunk of nickel-iron made it worse than if he hadn’t been augmented at all. It was as if the little voice that told him where he was and where he needed to go was drunk.
“I’m going to need help here if I’m going to be ready for whatever might come. I need you to keep track of the map and guide me.”
<Understood, and I’m on it.>
One less thing for me to worry about.
Rev was glad he was leading. Making sure everyone was oriented the same way, heads pointing in one direction, gave a feeling of up, even in weightless conditions. But moving down a tunnel like that limited fields of fire, with the Marines in the front blocking those behind. So, in a tunnel, the SOP was for the Marines to circle its cross-section, like numbers on a clock, with the heads toward the middle. This gave more Marines a lane through which they could fire their weapons.
With Rev’s delicate stomach, though, while he’d been surprisingly fine in open space, he was a little queasy, and he didn’t want to see the rest of the team oriented every which way. And if they were behind him, he didn’t have to see them.
But that didn’t take Second Team into account. Rev passed the second corner, and there they were, spokes on a wheel.
“Third Team, passing through,” he sent, his voice tight as saliva started to form at the base of his jaw.
<Do you want your antiemetic?>
He’d resisted so far, but he couldn’t let pride jeopardize the mission. “Do it.”
He looked straight ahead, trying to block out the sight of the Marines until the medication started taking effect. He jetted down the center of the tunnel through Second Lieutenant Harisa and Second Team.
Gizzy Incrit-Kole gave Rev a thumb’s up as he passed, Pashu extended, his tomographic scanner seeking any sign of movement. And then they were the lead team, leaving their security behind. It was on to their objective.
With the constant zig-zagging, he brushed the smooth walls a few times as he flew, which knocked him off-kilter, but the suits had good gyros, and his quickly righted him. With their lack of real EVA time, he didn’t like going this quickly, but this was a race to the target, and he had to push it.
<Twenty meters to the intersection. Take the left fork.>
“Will the tunnel straighten out after that?”
<Negative. It will continue in its present form.>
The short bends were more than just an obstacle to travel. For one, it knocked out the Morays as effective weapons. Each of the missiles needed forty meters to arm, and the Marines had yet to encounter a single straight stretch that long. It also provided for ambush spots, and there could be a Centaur lying in wait just around the corner in the next section. Rev tried to focus on what was in front of him and watch for his sensors to light off as they swept his path.
He reached the intersection when his peripheral vision caught motion to his side, and he immediately realized his mistake. The Centaur was in the other corridor. He tried to twist around but flailed until he reached out with his right arm and pushed away, bringing Pashu to fire . . . and froze.
Three Frisians were facing him, just as surprised as he was. One brought up his weapon, but it was going to be too late. Rev had him dead to rights.
“Stop!” Rev shouted over the universal frequency. Whether the Frisian heard him or if it was Pashu aiming at him at point-blank range, the soldier froze. The other two with him froze as well. They didn’t have to know exactly what Pashu was to know she had a pretty big bite.
Radić and Tomiko saw Rev’s reaction and pushed forward, M-49s ready, but Rev held up his right hand, stopping them.
“Slowly, Miko. I’ve got some Fries here. I never saw their light, and they evidently didn’t see mine.
<They must be using some other form of night vision.>
Whatever the reason, both sides seemed surprised, and uncertainty could result in rash action. He needed to defuse this.
“Strap and Carp, stay just short of the intersection. The rest of you, wait.”
He motioned the two forward, making sure the Frisians could see him. A moment later, Tomiko and Radić reached him, Tomiko going high and Radić off at an angle.
One of the Frisians slowly motioned with his hand, and two more appeared, crowding the corridor.
“What now?”
<That’s not something I can answer. You have your orders.>
To start a freaking war? If I fire now in this damn tunnel, it’s going to be a massacre.
“Staff Sergeant Delacrie, we’ve got a situation here.”
There was no answer.
“Staff Sergeant Delacrie, Lieutenant Harisa, come in.” He hoped they could hear him.
Dead air.
The nickel-iron was plaguing comms, but they couldn’t be that far back in the tunnel. Regardless, Rev knew this was on him.
And he knew what he had to do. Before he could contemplate it, Rev lowered Pashu. One of the Frisians started to raise his weapon when another put out a hand and blocked it.
“Who are you?” came over the universal freq.
“Sergeant Reverent Pelletier, Perseus Union Marine Corps. And you?”
“Yellow-master Dredge Vstaleekru, Frisian Host. Why are you here?”
“Probably for the same reason you are.”
Rev couldn’t see inside the face shield of the Frisian, and he wished he could opaque his.
“Did you attack our other flight?” the Frisian asked.
“No. We were aboard our shuttle when the explosion occurred.” He didn’t say that there had been a SEAL team there at the time.
“So, you were the ones who fired on us,” the Frisian said, his voice on edge.
“Warning shot. Not on our command.”
“Warning for what? We’re in uncontested space.”
“Are we really playing that game?” Rev asked.
The Frisian looked around, catching sight of Strap and Porter. “And I assume you have more of you stippy-do jarheads with you.
Rev didn’t say anything.
“OK, Sergeant. What now?”
“What now is that we are going to proceed down this tunnel here.”
“And I don’t think I can let you do that.”
Rev gave a low chuckle. “I’m betting you were told to get there first, too.
Rev couldn’t see the Frisians’ faces, but that chuckle seemed to have an effect. Their bodies seemed to lose some of their tension.
“Miko, can you read me?” Nix’s voice broke in through on the platoon net.
“Affirmative, but we’ve got a situation here,” Tomiko said.
“What kind of situation?” Staff Sergeant Delacrie broke in. “Time’s of the essence.”
“Staff Sergeant, tell the lieutenant time is OBE. We’re in contact with the Fries. The situation is tense, so please hold in place,” Rev passed.
The staff sergeant was the team leader and technically in command, but he also realized the special situation. Rev wasn’t in his chain of command, but he called the operational shots.
Rev didn’t know if that would hold, but the team leader passed, “Roger. Understood. I’ll try and raise the lieutenant and apprise her of what’s going on.”
Rev switched back to the universal freq. “I’m sorry about your other flight.”
Geez, that sounds lame.
But the yellow-master dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Thank you, but we’re still at an impasse. “I can’t let you proceed, and you can’t let us proceed.”
And there it was . . . unless it wasn’t.
This is stupid, Reverent.
But before he could talk himself out of it, he asked, “Why can’t we? I mean, let each other proceed. Together.”
The soldier just looked at Rev for a long moment, the seconds ticking on, until he asked, “Just what do you mean?”
“What’s Ting-a-ling’s real name? Pronounce it for me, slowly.”
<Tjee-vyrtz-leen.>
“Do you know Yellow-master Tjivyrtzlin?” Rev asked, hoping he didn’t mangle the name too badly.
“No. Should I?”
It had been probably too much to hope that this Frisian knew the other yellow-master, but that didn’t matter.
“We served together. His flight was part of our platoon, and we fought on Tenerife, Roher-104, and Alafia. We bled together. You Frisians died alongside us.”
He waited for the yellow-master to come to the same conclusion as he had, but the Frisian asked, “And so?”
“And so, we’re on the same side. The side of humanity. Our enemies are the tin-asses, the Centaurs, not each other. Down this tunnel, there might or might not be some sort of tech or intel that can help us win that war. Do you really want us to fight over it, maybe losing whatever it is in the process?”
“So, we’re supposed to just let you go grab it, so you can use the alien tech after this war is over against us? Like the Centaur prisoner you kept from us?”
Rev wanted to say it was a dead Centaur, not a prisoner, but he wasn’t that foolish.
“I don’t mean just our side. Yours, too. We go together.”
The yellow-master didn’t seem convinced. Rev wondered if mentioning what had happened on the other side of the asteroid would help or hurt his chances with the yellow-master.
Just go for it.
“Look, we had a SEAL team that followed your flight into this asteroid.”
The yellow-master looked to the side at one of the others, and Rev knew that what he’d just said had them talking between themselves. He wished he could eavesdrop on what they were saying.
“I don’t know what happened between them, but given the results, it’s a fair bet that a Centaur self-detonated and destroyed whatever was there.”
“Possibly,” the yellow-master admitted. “But what are you proposing?”
“Rev, I’ve got Hussein back down the tunnel relaying your conversations with the Fries to the lieutenant, and she wants to know what you’re doing. We’ve got Navy and Frisian ships incoming,” Delacrie asked.
“I’m trying to accomplish the mission.”
Rev raised Pashu, and all five Frisians brought their weapons to bear, which made Tomiko and the rest do the same. “If there’s a Centaur up there, I think I can disable it with this.”
“And what the hell is that Genesian monstrosity?”
“I lost an arm on Alafia. It was replaced with this. And our R&D-types think that here in a vacuum, it can fry a Centaur’s circuits if I get close enough. Do you have anything that can do that?”
Only twenty-five percent chance, but still . . .
He lowered Pashu, and one by one, both the Frisians and the Marines lowered their weapons, too.
“So, what are you exactly proposing?”
“We fought Centaurs together before. We do it again.”
“And whatever we find? What then.”
“Equal access.”
“You’re a sergeant. I’m a yellow-master. Hardly high on the decision-making food chain. And we just take it upon ourselves?”
“Why not? We’re adjusting on the fly due to changing circumstances. And we’re still allies, after all.”
The yellow-master turned to one of the others, and once again, Rev wished he could listen in on their conversation.
“The lieutenant wants to know if you think this is a valid course of action,” the staff sergeant passed.
“I don’t know, to be honest. I think it would be a mess if we started fighting, but then you’d have a clear shot to the target.”
There was a pause as Delacrie relayed the message, and Rev waited, half-expecting to receive orders to attack the Frisians.
Instead, it was, “The lieutenant says to do what you think is best, but she wants you to broadcast your feed. She’s heading back to the surface to see what she can do with the incoming ships and says whatever you do, you’d better do it quick. You don’t have much time.”
“I assume you know that we’ve got company coming, both yours and mine. We can decide to go at it right here and see who’s left standing, we can just sit and wait until matters are taken out of our hands and maybe have a fight break out there, or we can complete our missions. It’s up to you.”
“You’re putting a lot on your shoulders, Rev,” Tomiko said, breaking her silence.
“What would you have me do, Miko? You want to fight them?”
“I’m not arguing. I just hope that if they agree, the pot at the end of the rainbow is really there and not a mirage. You’re going to need something good to protect you.”
“What, you want to record a formal protest to cover your ass?” Rev asked, surprised at her tone.
“You know me better than that. I’m just saying. But no matter what we do, I’ve got you covered.”
The yellow-master cut in. “It’s never a good idea to sit and wait for others to take over. We’re in. But, uh, we’ve got five more coming up to join us.”
Rev laughed and said, “And we’ve got another element. Sergeant Nix, why don’t you come on up?”
It took a few minutes of discussion, but Nix and Delacrie were to stay back with the five Frisians while Rev, Second Element, and the initial five Frisians were to advance. If something happened to them, it would be up to Delacrie and the stay-behind Frisians to decide what to do.
“You ready, Yellow-master Vstaleekru?” Rev asked.
The commando gave him a thumbs-up, then stepped up beside Rev. It looked like they were both going to lead the way.
Rev started down the tunnel, Pashu raised and deployed. The Frisian yellow-master gave it a few sidelong glances before he managed the discipline to focus ahead. Armed with a UL-56, he’d be a deadly foe to a human, but it wouldn’t do much against any of the commonly encountered Centaurs. And with the tunnel continuing its zig-zagging, the Frisian’s KK-40, the same missile the Union had copied with its older Mantis, was probably useless as well.
“What’s the arming range on that thing?” Rev asked.
“Twenty-nine meters, so yeah, not much good in here if we hit anything big.”
From the size of the tunnel, however, there was no way a paladin could have gotten through. Maybe a riever could be ahead of them, so there was no telling what they might be facing. The AI mini-centaurs he’d faced on Tenerife might be a more likely foe, and Rev didn’t know how effective they were.
“What about that thing you’re lugging around,” he asked, acting like he was only casually interested.
Rev knew Pashu’s capabilities were classified, but he’d already blown past that restriction.
“The missiles are forty, but the beam cannon has no arming range, of course.”
“And you think you can do something with that against a Centaur?”
“I’ve killed with it,” Rev said, and left it at that.
After too many zig-zags, they reached the end. A solid door blocked their way. Their objective was on the other side of it.
“So, what do we do now?” the yellow-master asked. “Draw straws?”
“I’m going in first.”
“So, you can claim priority, jarhead? I don’t think so.”
“Unless a target is on the far side of the space, you already said you can’t engage.”
“If it’s a paladin, no. But this passage is a little small for one of them, right? So, for their baby-cents, we’ve got something that will do.”
So, they know about the mini-Centaurs. Not surprising.
“And for their self-destruct? You got something for that?” Rev asked.
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”
“And I’m thinking that might have been what took out your other flight and our SEALs.”
The Frisian soldier seemed to think about that for a moment, then asked, “And you really think that thing will stop the same thing from happening?”
Rev patted Pashu with his right hand. “Sure do.”
I wish I really were that confident. And that’s only if there’s no atmosphere on the other side of this door.
“In that case, you’ve got the lead, but I’ll be standing right beside you.”
“Accepted.”
He turned around. Tomiko was “above” him, looking down, and Radić was toward his left side. With that disorientation, he was glad Punch had him take his meds. “We need Hus-man and the breaching charge.”
“You heard him,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie, just emerging from around the last corner, said. “Hussein, up!”
Twenty seconds later, Hussein came around the staff sergeant and made his way forward, giving the Frisians a wide berth.
“Blow that thing,” Rev told him.
As Hussein pulled the breaching charge from his kit, the yellow-master reached out, touched his arm, and said, “You’re not going to use that, are you?”
Rev didn’t understand the Frisian’s question. He didn’t think the Centaurs forgot to lock the door and they could just waltz right in.
“I think we need to blow it.”
“No shit. But with that ancient tech? Stippy-do, sometimes I wonder about you Union folk and how you can really be a threat . . . I mean, not now, of course. We’re still allies, but you know.”
“And what would you suggest?” Rev tried to keep the snark out of his voice. He didn’t see the Frisians with an IBHU, after all.
The Frisian turned, and a moment later, one of the soldiers just a couple meters behind them flew forward to the door, then came to a graceful stop. The soles of his boots touched the wall and stuck fast, giving him some stability.
He pulled out a small, handheld scanner and ran it across the edges of the door and frame. Whatever he read seemed to satisfy him, and he took out another scanner that looked to be the twin of the first. He turned to look at the yellow-master, who raised one hand for him to proceed.
“What did he say?” Rev asked.
“First, he checked for booby traps, then took a reading on the door. Twenty-three centimeters thick, no atmosphere on the other side, so when we open it, we won’t have to deal with that.”
Rev gave a mental sigh of relief, but not because of any outward rush of air. A vacuum was needed to increase the range of his beam cannon. Intel had been right when they said their objective was probably not pressurized, not that that made much sense to him. The Centaurs needed more O2 than humans, if the xenobiologists were right, so why would they be doing whatever they were doing in a vacuum?
Then again, why do they do anything they do?
The soldier at the door took out what looked to be a large tube of toothpaste and started applying an off-white gunk around the edges of the door.
“So, you know what that is?”
<The Frisian Host commonly uses liquid explosives in their arsenal. I would have to assume that is what is being applied.>
Rev frowned. The gunk couldn’t even be a centimeter thick. How much energy could it release?
Once the soldier applied the first line around the door, he applied a second just inside of the first. And after that, he did it one more time, so there were three parallel rectangles of white gunk along the edges of the door.
“All hands, remain on the universal freq for the duration,” the yellow-master passed, which Staff Sergeant Delacrie immediately repeated. Which was probably a good idea if they were about to get into a fight.
“I’ve got a solid circuit. I’m ready to blow this,” the Frisian at the door said.
“You ready, Sergeant?”
“Do we have to move back?” Rev asked, warily eyeing the door ten meters ahead of them.
The yellow-master laughed and then said, “I told you, we don’t rely on ancient tech. I think we should move up.”
He took three steps forward, his posture making it evident that this was a challenge. Rev didn’t know if it was smart to be that close to the door, but he stepped up alongside the yellow-master.
“Do it, Beemoral,” the Frisian said.
“Get ready,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie passed.
The Frisian reached out with a small wand and touched the corner of the outer gunk line. There wasn’t much of a visible reaction, just a light mist that worked its way along all three lines and gathered in the zero G, keeping close to the surface.
“Stand by,” the yellow-master said, nudging Rev and stepping a meter to the side, his UK raised.
“Find me targets.”
<Roger.>
Having an extra set of eyes, even if it was Punch noting things in his peripheral vision when he was focusing on something else, was something he and his battle buddy had been playing around with in training, and it seemed to work.
The misting seemed to slow down, then with a small flash, the entire door fell inward.
The mini-Centaur was five meters inside the door, just to the right. That split second it took for Rev to adjust his aim was enough for the Centaur to fire, the beam itself invisible. Rev fired, his beam hitting and arcing over the thing’s body. There was muffled, almost half-assed explosion, but Punch had already highlighted two more mini-AIs.
Rev was already moving, darting inside and to the right. He went low, taking cover behind a metallic bench, firing as he went, hitting one of them as two missiles shot through the door, hitting the third mini-Centaur, which then detonated far more spectacularly. Shrapnel zinged through the space, and without the bench, Rev would have been shredded. As it was, his suit was punctured at the thigh, but between the suit’s armor and Rev’s spiderweb, the shrapnel didn’t penetrate past his epidermis. His suit integrity alarm went off as the smart fabric quickly reknitted.
“Did you see anything else?” Rev asked, trying to remember what he’d seen in that second or two.
<Not from what was in your line of vision. But the space looks extensive, and you didn’t look at all of it.>
Rev turned to look back out the door to tell the yellow-master to come inside, but the Frisian had been cut down, most of his body above the waist gone. A fine pink mist floated around the body, which slowly cartwheeled in retreat. Another of the Frisians was flying forward, their passage disturbing the pattern of the blood.
Respect to the fallen.
He turned his attention back to the front, looking for any Centaur sign. The area around the mini-Centaur hit by the Frisian missile was littered with mangled equipment and machinery, but the damage was much less than what a paladin self-destructing would be expected to do. Rev couldn’t tell if the thing self-destructed at all or if the damage had been caused by the missiles. In the weightlessness, bits and pieces of mini-Centaur and equipment floated around the space, only changing direction when they collided with something.
“Three tin-asses down. I’m on the right, ten meters in. No sign of any more, but the space is not secure. I repeat, not secure.” Rev passed.
“Coming in left.” Tomiko passed. She came shooting through the blasted door at the same time as one of the Frisians, both almost colliding. Within twenty seconds, the rest of the Marines and Frisians were inside, taking whatever cover they could.
“We need to clear this space,” Staff Sergeant Delacrie passed over the net as he took over.
The question was how to partition up the area. This wasn’t a planetary warehouse with rows of vertical crates. Everything was haphazard without a firm orientation. The staff sergeant moved to the center, and using his arms, encompassed about a third of the space.
“Frisians, if you can take this, and Raiders, we’ve got the rest,” he passed, switching his arms around.
Primitive, but it worked.
“Understand,” one of the Frisians passed. “We’ve got it.”
But for the Raiders, there were better control features he could send to their helmet displays. The staff sergeant threw up boundaries on their section.
“Second Element, cover First. We’ll start right here,” he passed, one section suddenly highlighted. The lieutenant and Second Team are on their way in.”
Raiders and Frisians moved forward to start clearing. Rev watched for movement, but except for humans and the pieces of mini-Centaurs, it was still.
“Good job, Rev,” Miko passed on the P2P.
“Glad it was only mini-Centaurs.”
“Think there are any more in here, waiting to jump out?”
Rev scanned to the back, where there was what sure looked like an airlock. He didn’t understand what made the Centaurs tick, but something told him they didn’t like weightlessness and vacuums.
“No, I don’t. I think the three mini-tin-asses were it.”
“And you base that on what?”
“Just a hunch. But we’ll find out soon enough.”
Second Team and the lieutenant entered the space and shifted to the right to join Nix and his element. All of them were alert for more Centaurs or booby traps, but the place was clean. Fifteen minutes after the brief firefight, Lieutenant Harisa sent Hussein back to declare the objective secure.
* * *
Just short of five hours later, Top Thapa and First Team came through the blasted door, followed by a small team of four civilians. Lieutenant Harisa met them, and Rev watched from what looked like a small workbench of some kind he’d claimed as his anchor, something to ground him in the weightlessness.
His skin itched, and he wanted nothing more than to take a shower. Real water would be great, but at this point, an underpowered sonic shower would work. He didn’t understand why it had taken this long to get someone there.
The top, the lieutenant, and one of the civilians were in deep conversation. More than once, the civilian pointed to where the Frisians were gathered. Rev could see the tension in their bodies. They weren’t obviously presenting their weapons, but Rev knew that could change in an instant.
After five minutes, the lieutenant and the civilians jetted away from the entrance and deeper into the space. The Frisians just watched.
“Pelletier, where are . . . oh, there, you are” Top passed. He flew across to Rev, his body canted in relationship to him.
Rev twisted his body around until they were face to face and aligned.
“You outdid yourself this time,” Top told him.
Which could be good or bad.
“Lots of people are pretty pissed at you now.”
Bad, then.
“This was supposed to be a Union haul until you decided to start making galaxy-shifting decisions.”
“I did what I thought I had to,” Rev said defensively.
“Granted. And from the look of things, it’ll pay off, for humanity at least. The other side of this hunk of metal looks to be a write-off.”
“The SEALs?” Rev asked.
“Complete loss. We won’t know for sure until it’s all analyzed, but that’s where the Centaurs were located. From what we can tell, they blew themselves up.”
“Then what’s this place?”
“Fuck if I know,” Top said, holding onto Rev’s bench so he could twist to look. Their infrared lanterns were not that powerful, so the farther recesses were not clear. “Warehouses? Work that they didn’t want in the pressurized areas? I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”
Rev was a little disappointed that all of this might just be the Centaur equivalent of a supply shed. The Marines and the Frisians had almost come to blows over the space.
“What about the Fries?” Rev asked.
“What about them?”
“I mean, I promised them they’d have access.”
“Yeah, you sure did, didn’t you? Pretty ballsy. Like I said, shifting the course of the whole freaking galaxy.”
“So, what happens now?”
“Now, we’re officially waiting until their command ship gets here and their main body can enter with ours.”
“Their command ship? I don’t understand.”
Top laughed, then said, “Yeah, I didn’t understand at first. After the lieutenant sent Hus-man to the entrance to upload your . . . negotiations . . . well, that now fell under some paragraph of the Torinth Accords.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“I asked my battle buddy, and even now, I don’t get it all. But basically, in a combat situation, agreements made between commanders to cease hostilities are essentially treaties. It goes back to the Willis War, when a ground commander negotiated a cease-fire, promising the defenders free passage, with weapons, off a planet. When the higher command arrived, they ignored the deal and took all of the defenders as prisoners. Something like that. You can ask your battle buddy for the details.
“Punch, I want—”
<I have it already for when you have time. Torinth Accords, Paragraph 5.23.2.>
Rev tried to process what he’d just heard. Something wasn’t adding up. “But you said commander. I’m not the commander.”
“Ah, but the lieutenant was, and she endorsed your agreement.”
Rev twisted to look at her as she showed the civilians around. She’d made sure to cover Rev’s six in all that had happened.
“Not to be cynical, Top—”
“Oh, of course not. Marines are never cynical.”
“But, I mean, there are only five of them. What’s to keep someone from, you know . . .”
“From making them disappear and not letting anyone know of your agreement?”
It hurt Rev to admit that could be a possibility, but he said, “Yeah. That.”
“Because when Hus-man broadcast it, he did it on the universal channel.”
It took Rev a moment, but then it sunk in. “So, anyone else in this asteroid belt would have heard it.”
“Like other Fries, the Council, and whoever else might be wondering what we and the Fries were doing? Yeah.”
That stunned Rev. All he’d wanted to do was avoid a needless fight. Somewhere in his mind, he’d understood that all of humanity had to pull together if they were going to survive, but at the team level, in the here and now, it had been about keeping Marines and soldiers—allies—alive.
“I didn’t mean to get things . . . to bring it to that level.”
“Well, you did.”
“Was I wrong?”
“I’m just a master sergeant, so far down the food chain that I never seen a menu yet. But as far as I’m concerned, you did good.”
“Really?”
“Hey, I fought with them, too. No need for allies to be killing each other when the real enemy is still trying to erase us from existence. Now, let me go check on everyone.”
“What about us? What do we do, now?”
“You’ve been in the Corps long enough to know, Pelletier. Now you stand by to stand by.” He rotated around and flew off to where some of Second Team was gathered.
“What was that all about?” Tomiko asked.
“Just some updates. No survivors with the SEALs.”
“We expected that. What about this place? He know what it is?”
“Maybe a warehouse.”
“No, I don’t mean this place. Of course, that’s what this is. I mean the whole fucking asteroid.”
Of course, she’d been able to figure that out long before me.
“Not yet. I, uh, I also asked him about the Fries.”
“What about the crayons?”
“I asked him what’s going to happen to them. He said because of the Torinth Accords, the agreement we made has to be honored. We’re waiting now for more of them to come so the Seabees and the rest can come inside.”
“Well, good. I was wondering about that. But . . .” she said, twisting her body around so she could see the Frisians, “. . . what if the OD or someone decides to . . .” She drew a quick hand across her throat.
“Too late. The lieutenant had Hus-man send out the agreement on the Universal freq.”
“Damn! That’s one smart butterbar.”
Rev had to agree, and he appreciated the backup. He’d only had casual contact with the lieutenant before, but now, with the skipper out sick, she had risen to the occasion.
Rev looked over at the Frisians again and said, “I’m going to go talk to them.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Rev jetted across the open area, Tomiko beside him. They came to a stop as one of them moved up to meet them.
All EVAs had a universal connector through which the wearers could communicate or share air and water. Rev didn’t really want what he wanted to say on the U-freq, so he pulled his out from his sleeve, and after a slight hesitation, the Frisian pulled out his and married the two.
“I’m so sorry about Yellow-master . . .” he paused, hoping not to butcher the name.
“Vstaleekru,” the Frisian said. “He was good people. I’m Yellow-master Keej.”
Rev started to reach out a hand, but shaking in zero-G could be problematic, so he switched to the more acceptable hand to the chest. He didn’t want to ask, but if he understood their system correctly, this Keej had just become the yellow-master upon the death of the previous one.
“So, are you here to give us the bad news?” the Frisian asked.
“What bad news?”
“I count about twenty of you, and with those civilians, I’m betting there are more of you outside. I don’t see you all just giving us free access, not with what’s at stake.”
“I said you’d get the same access as we are. Nothing’s changed.”
The Frisian snorted, then said. “Except for the fact that you’re a sergeant, and in your service, you don’t have much say.”
“I have enough say to keep my word,” Rev said, a little miffed at the accusation, even if he’d entertained thoughts along the same lines.
“So, if me and my flight just wander over there and pick up some of this Centaur shit, no one will do anything?”
“You can’t.” He held up a hand, palm out, when the Frisian started to say something, but Rev continued. “And neither can we, if I understand what’s going on. We’ve got teams ready to go, but we’re waiting for your command ship to arrive. The salvage and research teams, yours and ours, will go in together.”
The Frisian half-turned to the others. Rev knew he was relaying what Rev had just told him. Two of them gave Rev a thumbs-up.
“Thank you for telling us. I have to admit, when Concrete, uh, Yellow-master Vstaleekru, that is, agreed to your proposition, I wasn’t sure we could trust you. I tried to talk him out of it, but he wasn’t called Concrete for nothing. Once he set his mind on something, he was hard to dissuade. He said you jarheads weren’t our enemy. He served with you guys, you know, on Montoya’s Haven. Said you were good shits. Brothers in blood and all.
“I should have just listened to him.”
“We shouldn’t be fighting each other,” Rev said. “We’ve got the tin-asses to worry about.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” The new yellow-master’s head tilted, and even if Rev couldn’t see inside the face shield, he knew the Frisian was looking at Pashu. “That’s some impressive arm there. Concrete said you lost the arm, and that’s what they gave you to replace it?”
Rev felt a tremor of concern. The IBHU program had been highly classified, and that was his ingrained reaction. But he realized that the cat was out of the bag, and as he’d just said, they were on the same side.
“Tell your flight to switch to U-freq twenty-one-point-five.”
The open universal frequency was labeled twenty. The others could be used for more restricted conversations.
“Going to U-freq twenty-one-point-five,” he told Tomiko so she could join.
“This is Pashupatastra, named for the personal weapon of Shiva and Kali.”
The others crowded around him, and he gave them a brief overview of the weapons. One thing that never changed, no matter the nationality, was that military people loved their weapons. There were a few excited questions, and Rev answered the best he could, but without giving away the specs.
“I didn’t know you were working on them, but I heard a rumor that the Mad Dogs were doing something along those lines,” one of the soldiers said as he patted the cannon projector.
Rev gave Tomiko a glance. He had no idea that the Manifest Destiny Sphere was pursuing the same kind of weapon, and he wondered if Colonel Trejo knew. Probably, if this Frisian soldier knew.
Strap came over, then Radić. McAnt and some of the Second Team Marines joined them. Pretty soon, instead of standing in their own groups, Marines and Frisians were mixing, telling stories about what combat they’d seen. Some of it might have even been mostly true, but for thousands of years, absolute adherence to the truth had never gotten in the way of a good story.
Rev had just broken out laughing over a tall tale that the Frisian Tomiko had already christened Bulldog had told when they had company. At least fifty Seabees and Frisians came into the warehouse. The Seabees efficiently set up large lights and turned them on, bringing the space into sharp focus.
Rev and the rest turned off their infrared, glad for more normal vision. He looked around, taking in the extent of what they’d captured. Seeing it as a whole, it didn’t look like it contained as much as he’d initially thought. There was a lattice-like array that now reminded him of what the Centaurs had been building with human slave labor on Tenerife. He wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be some sort of power station, which would make more sense with them being in a cold vacuum instead of the pressurized section of their installation.
There was more, but almost all of it was beyond his comprehension. Rev hoped that the experts could make something of it, something that could help humans in the war.
Teams consisting of both Perseans and Frisians started to move throughout the space, recording and cataloging what was there. Five hours ago, the two sides were close to colliding, but already, they were acting together—although Hussein, in his typical cynical style, said the teams were there to make sure no one was able to hide something valuable.
And maybe he was right. But Rev didn’t care. They’d succeeded in their mission, and if there were valuable understandings to glean, he was sure that between the two nations, the experts would uncover them.
* * *
Rev stood under the sonics, blissfully feeling over a week’s worth of Reverent-stink and dead skin slough off his body. EVA suits were not made for extensive periods of time, and Rev had gone above and beyond the call of duty, as far as he was concerned.
It’s got to be against the Torinth Accords as torture.
The amount of dead skin had been a revelation. No one had told him that in zero-G, the skin built up, but unless rubbed off by the inside of the suit itself, it remained stuck on top of his live skin instead of flaking off. There wasn’t any more of it, but what was there was all still on his body. His feet had been particularly gross.
He had the projector on high, and the sharp waves were like needle pricks, but he didn’t care. Anything to feel clean again.
They’d stayed in the asteroid for six more days after taking it. Both the Navy captain and the Frisian amber-master had decided that the fewer people exposed to the Centaur tech, the better, so the Raiders and soldiers had become the gofers and manual labor for the Seabees, civilians, and Frisian engineers.
There had been one more military-centric mission, that of checking out the other side of the asteroid. The airlock had so far stymied the human engineers, so a mixed expedition of twenty soldiers and Marines had flown outside the asteroid, entering where the SEALs and Frisians had gone in. Within twenty meters, it was evident that the damage on this side had been extensive. At forty-five meters, they couldn’t proceed any farther. The slagging of the tunnel walls convinced Rev that the damage wasn’t caused by the humans. The Centaurs had to have unleashed something to destroy the evidence of what they were doing. He didn’t know why they hadn’t done that on the other side, unless there wasn’t anything there worth concealing.
They managed to recover some human remains that hadn’t been vaporized or blown out of the tunnel, but Rev couldn’t tell if they were SEALs or Frisians. It had been a sober patrol that returned.
There had been some discussion about trying to bore in from the side with their own tunnel to see if they could reach the main spaces, but as Hussein had said, the Centaurs were pretty good at destroying their traces. Rev had strong doubts that anything useful could be recovered. If this mission was going to have any benefits to the war effort, it would have to come from the warehouse.
After that mission, Rev had respectfully requested permission to return to the Alacrity, even if for only a couple of hours, but the Navy captain had thought Rev and McAnt’s presence was a deterrence should the Frisians try something sneaky. Rev wasn’t sure how they could attempt anything given that every square centimeter of the space was being monitored with the feeds being sent back to New Mars for analysis.
Finally, Captain Omestori, still on the Alacrity, got permission to bring the Raiders back, replacing them with Delta Company, who had gone on a port and starboard work schedule. Rev had seen Cricket during the turnover brief, but they didn’t have a chance to talk before the Raiders were on board the shuttle and heading back to the ship. Rev almost cried out with relief as the shuttle entered the hangar, and once again, he had weight.
Now it was going to be shower, food, and sleep, in that order. The thought of getting some deep sleep instead of the catnaps that he’d been able to grab was wonderful. But for Rev, it was going to take a little longer. That tape and goop sealing off Pashu that he’d been so concerned about proved to be pretty tough stuff and resisted removal. In the end, Daryll had cut the suit itself so Rev could slip out, wrinkling his nose in disgust as the Eau de Pelletier came out in a wave.
A Marine doesn’t take care of themself until their weapons are cleaned and stored, but this was going to take some time. Rev left them discussing how to remove the duct tape from Pashu.
And now, a good hour after the rest of the Raiders, Rev had the showers to himself, and he just reveled in his stall. His skin was abraded raw, but he was clean. He would have stayed longer, but his stomach was complaining about being ignored. They’d only been off the Alacrity for less than three days, but while the EVA suits provided all the nutrition needed to sustain life, the goop was hardly a treat for the taste buds. D-rats would have been welcomed, but when they’d debarked the shuttle, a chief had told them that they’d be getting their next meal in the crews’ galley. Real food. And that was about the only thing that could pry Rev from the showers.
Rev dressed and made his way to the galley, not even bothering to get his social arm from berthing. There were only a dozen Marines left, sitting in the back talking. Gizzy Incrit-Kole told him that most of the rest were already in the rack. Evidently, Rev wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping in zero-G.
It was breakfast in the ship’s cycle, and Rev dialed up four eggs over easy, bacon, sausage, waffles, tetris rolls with raspberries, and tangerine juice, then carried the load back to join the others.
“Not hungry, are you, Rev?” Gizzy asked.
“Takes a lot of energy to keep this finely-tuned fighting machine going,” he said as he sat. He started shoveling in the food, regretting not getting his arm first. Then he could use that to mop up the egg yolks with the waffles while using his right arm for the bacon, all at the same time.
“You heard anything about how long we’re going to be able to stay aboard?” Minnow Krill asked.
Minnow was a sergeant the same as Rev, same as Gizzy, for that matter, but all the Marines turned to hear his response. Rev might be a sergeant, but with his special position, they hoped he’d be more in the know.
But he didn’t know. The Alacrity was there for the duration, as far as he knew, and not much had really been done yet in the asteroid. He figured they’d have a day or two to unwind, then it’d be back to the salt mines.
The talk shifted to sports. It was tourney time on New Hope, and despite years of Swansea City futility, hope always springs eternal. Gizzy said the lieutenant was going to try and get the ship’s captain to authorize a feed so they could watch the Jacks in their first-round match. Rev was more of a flipball fan, but he was happy just to listen in as he ate. But his rack was calling, so as soon as he finished, he was off to the berthing, ready for some “gravity sleep.”
It felt like he’d barely closed his eyes when Tomiko was shaking his shoulder. “The captain wants to see us all in the hangar deck.”
“Kitted up?”
“No word on that.”
I guess we’re going back to the asteroid sooner than I thought.
He sat up and swung his legs out of the rack.
“How long did I sleep?”
<Seven hours, fourteen minutes.>
That surprised Rev. He’d have sworn it had been only a few minutes. But he was well-rested, reminding him of when his mother had calmed some restless nights with a grey gravity blanket.
He took a moment to put his social arm on, then followed the rest down to the hangar deck where Captain Omestori, looking a little ragged still, was waiting for them. The skipper held up for a few minutes longer for the stragglers to come in.
“Raiders, first, I want to congratulate all of you for a job well done, and I’m relaying the same message from General Begay.”
There was a chorus of ooh-rahs.
“I apologize that I was not able to be with you, but I had full confidence in your abilities to accomplish the mission. And now, I’ve received our follow-on orders, and I wanted to relay those to you as soon as possible.”
Follow-on orders? What’s going on?
“We’re being relieved on station. Or, to be more exact, our mission here is over. The Marines’ mission, for the most part. D-4 and D-6 will be taking over. Delta Company will remain on station for security until regular Marine forces can take their place, and all their gear is being readied for a cross-platform move to another ship.”
“Home for the tourney!” Minnow Krill shouted.
The captain said, “Not so fast, Sergeant. We aren’t going home just yet.”
There were a few groans, and Rev waited for the boom to fall. What was happening that needed the Raiders?
“In another half an hour or so, a package will be brought aboard from the asteroid. I don’t know what it is, but you can conjecture on your own.”
Rev exchanged glances with Tomiko. The agreement had been reached that no Centaur tech was to leave the asteroid until more detailed and specific agreements could be hammered out. Could the governments somehow have managed to do that in record time?
“We will escort the package to its destination, where we’ll probably be debriefed in more detail. And where is that destination?”
Every set of ears were locked on him, waiting. Rev didn’t have a clue if it wasn’t New Hope.
The captain broke out into a huge grin and said, “We’re going to New Mars!”
Tomiko’s mouth dropped open, and she punched Rev hard in the shoulder. “No fucking way!”
Rev was equally shocked. New Hope was part of the boonies of the Union, a backwater planet lacking in almost everything the capital planet could offer. New Hopers liked to say they were just as good as those in the central worlds, but there was always that little bit of inferiority complex and a sense that they’d love to see the capital.
Most New Hopers never got the chance, but now, the Raiders were getting that chance, and all on the government’s dime.
Rev gave Tomiko a hug, then turned to accept Hussein’s as the babble of excited voices filled the hangar deck.
I guess sometimes good things do happen to those who deserve it.