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Nexus of Chaos Copyright © 2023 by Variant Publications

Book design and layout copyright © 2023 by JN Chaney

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

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1

Gunnery Sergeant Tomiko Reiser, Perseus Union Marine Corps, nudged her fellow gunny, Reverent Pelletier, with her elbow.

“What?”

Tomiko pointed up, and Rev lifted his head. A lone Sia was hovering about a thousand meters over the ceremony.

“What’s it doing here?” Rev asked as a frown took over his face.

He knew that the Sia were allies in the fight against the Naxli, and down in the front row were representatives of other allied races—no Centaurs, though. But he didn’t trust the floating aliens. Bad things seemed to happen when they were around.

“Better yet, how did it get here?” Tomiko asked.

“Probably the clickers. They keep their noses so far up the singers’ butts that they can’t tell if it’s day or night.”

Tomiko cut off a chuckle as a civilian in front turned around to stare at them with a disapproving air.

“A—do the clickers even have noses? And B—do the singers have asses?” she whispered.

The Uauii—the “clickers”—didn’t have anything that could be called a nose, and the Sia—the “singers”—were more like a floating Portuguese man o’ war than anything else and didn’t have a butt as a bipedal being would have.

“Figuratively speaking, Miko.”

“You know that’s going to give any angel shits who see it an orgasm.”

The civilian turned around again and shushed them. Tomiko mimed locking her lips with a key and putting the key in her pocket.

Tomiko had a point with that. The Children of Angels thought the Sia were going to raise humanity to the next level, whatever that is. They’d probably take its appearance as a sign it was time. He gave the Sia one last look before shifting back down to the ceremony. They’d sat through fifty minutes of speeches as everyone from the CoH under-director of some minor government department to the mayor of Anastasia said what an honor the memorial was, how they’d fought for it, and blah-blah-blah.

Rev didn’t mean to be dismissive. He’d come to the memorial three weeks ago, before it was officially opened, and it had been an emotionally charged experience. Looking down at the expanse of the structure, it was still moving. But he cast a cynical eye toward the politicians who were making it more about them and what they’d done to get the monument built rather than about the fallen whose names were engraved there.

At least the speeches were over, and it was time for the actual dedication. A huge gold ribbon was wrapped around the entire monument.

“You haven’t heard who’s cutting it?” Tomiko asked him.

“Still no. Nobody’s come around to tell me during the ten minutes since you last asked me.”

“Ha-effing-ha. I thought maybe Punch . . . ?”

“Who knows no more than Pikachu.”

But . . .

“Punch? Anything?”

<I would have told you, but no. This is being kept tighter than a One-Alpha message,> his AI battle buddy said.

There was a collective shift in the several thousand spectators. News drones spun in unison to focus on the far-left side of the monument where a middle-aged woman, her arm intertwined with that of a Navy petty officer in her dress whites, was slowly advancing along the front of the memorial.

“Who is she?” Tomiko asked.

<I don’t have her in my data banks,> Punch said, not waiting for Rev to ask him.

As a personal AI, Punch was not authorized to use facial recognition capabilities, nor did he have access to the government’s data banks of all citizens. He could only match from public media. So, the woman wasn’t someone in the public eye. That was about to change. While the memorial might not be a big deal off the planet, despite the presence of alien representatives, here, it was pretty big. And if the woman was going to cut the ribbon, she was about to become a local celebrity of sorts.

The two women solemnly approached the VIP stand where the Safe Harbor governor was waiting. The sailor helped the older woman up onto the platform, then came to a position of attention behind it while she and the petty officer stood side-by-side and faced the spectators.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to our guest of honor, Ms. Formia Cadogan,” the announcer said. “Ms. Cadogan is a native and lifelong resident of Anastasia. She was married to Uriah Khan and raised six children.”

“Was” married?

Rev had a bad feeling about what was coming next.

“Senior Chief Petty Officer Khan-Cadogan was killed in action when his ship, the PUNS Marlin, was destroyed during the Centaur War. Of her six children, five were also killed in the line of duty, with only one, Second Class Petty Officer Bromlyn Khan, surviving.”

There was a collective gasp from the spectators, then silence. The petty officer who’d escorted her took one step forward, held it for a moment, and then stepped back.

The governor offered her arm to Ms. Cadogan, and together, they marched off the dais and approached the opening of the massive black monument, across which stretched the ribbon. An aide appeared carrying a large pair of ceremonial scissors.

“Twenty-nine thousand, four hundred and twelve of Safe Harbor’s Marines, sailors, and police have been killed in action since the start of the Centaur War.”

“And six of them were her family,” Tomiko whispered, her voice filled with sorrow.

“It is in their memory that the Safe Harbor War Dead Memorial is being dedicated today, may they never be forgotten.”

The governor nodded to Ms. Cadogan, who then raised the oversized scissors. As she closed the blades over the ribbon, the entire thing vaporized into 29,412 tiny gold stars that rose in a beautiful dance into the sky, swirling around each other as they raced for the heavens.

The Sia was right above them, but even it knew to move to the side and not impede the stars.

Rev choked up and tears came to his eyes. He hadn’t been happy with the politicking, but this moment was so well done that all of the rest was forgotten.

The governor took the scissors, put her head close to Ms. Cadogan’s and said something for just the two of them. Then an admiral came up, joined by the daughter.

“If everyone will remain seated,” the announcer said.

The admiral escorted the mother and daughter inside the curved opening and into the memorial proper. They headed to the left, where the names of those who’d fallen against the Centaurs were engraved.

As they approached, the announcer simply said, “Uriah Khan.”

The admiral stopped several steps short and let the two go on alone. They stood side-by-side for a long moment before the petty officer put her arm around her mother’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a minute until Ms. Cadogan wiped her forearm across her face, and then let the admiral take them to the next name.

“Jonah Khan-Cadogan.”

Then, after they spent another moment there, “Eleese Khan-Cadogan.”

“Sable Khan-Cadogan.”

“Tester Khan-Cadogan.”

And finally, “April Khan-Cadogan.”

Rev watched, barely breathing, as the woman paid tribute to her family. He wanted to know more about them. He could ask Punch, but even if he was sitting in the temporary stands that had been erected, it almost felt as if he’d be intruding somehow. Ms. Cadogan and her daughter’s images were being beamed around the galaxy, but still, he thought they deserved a bit of privacy.

“Respect for the fallen,” he said but left it at that for now.

Finally, the three returned to the VIP dais, and as the other VIPs shook her hand, the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes the dedication ceremony. On behalf of Governor Wynn, thank you for coming.”

“I want to go down there,” Tomiko said.

“Miko, it’s going to be a madhouse,” Rev said, pointing to the mass of people who’d already started forward. “And we’ve got field training in the morning with the ents.”

“You’ve already had your up close and personal time, Rev. And with our ops tempo, when am I going to get back here?”

Rev grunted. He’d been hoping to catch the first train back before it was packed, but she was right. She might not have a chance for a while.

“Let’s wait a bit, though. Let some of the crowd move out,” he said.

She took him by the arm and started pulling him to the side. “The others said to meet them over by the press box.”

Rev had managed to get two seats in the grandstands. Staff Sergeant Tsao had tickets, too, but up in the front. The rest of them were in the standing room areas behind and to the sides of the bleachers. Rev wasn’t sure they’d be able to hook up with the rest, but this was looking like they’d be here for a long time, so they might as well try to find them.

He gave one last glance at the sky and thought he could see a few glimmers of the gold stars as they continued to rise. The Sia, too, had come back to hover over the memorial.

“Just go away,” Rev muttered as he let Tomiko drag him off.

* * *

It was a long three hours before the crowd had dispersed enough so that Rev, Tomiko, Kelly, Yancey, Strap, Udu, and Hussein could get in.

The place had changed since Rev visited three weeks ago, and not only because of the people who were still wandering around, looking up names. When Rev had barged into the closed memorial, which was still under construction, the wall itself was clean and bare, and the only thing on the granite slabs that made up the ground was construction dust. The granite had been cleaned, but now, at the base of the wall, were flowers, children’s toys, and images of what had to be the fallen.

Yancey had used the app to locate Orpho’s name, and as they made their way to it, they passed a woman who was standing still, head down, arm raised over her head to touch a name. Rev stopped for a moment to watch, and as if she felt his gaze, she lowered her arm and crouched. She pulled a raggedly stuffed rabbit that had seen better days and placed it on the granite, its back up against the wall itself.

Feeling like an interloper, he edged closer until he could read the writing on the small heart on the rabbit.

“We’ll be together again, Benny.”

It was only five words. Nothing much, really. But they hinted at something bigger and deeper. Rev wanted to know more about Benny. Was he the woman’s son? Husband? Lover?

But it wasn’t his story nor his place to ask. The woman turned as Rev walked past.

“Respect for the fallen,” he said to her.

She looked surprised but didn’t say anything and hurried off.

“Here he is,” Yancey said, pointing to a spot on the wall.

He activated the app, and the name softly glowed. “Talamage, Orpheus.”

When Rev had come before, the database wasn’t operational. Now, Yancey activated it, and the words appeared in a hologram just in front of his name.

Orpheus, Talamage.

Staff Sergeant, Perseus Union Marine Corps

Born 19 May 3812, Swansea

KIA 13 January 3835, Tahiti

His boot camp image was projected as well, looking so young and full of promise. That was centuries ago, it seemed.

Kelly hadn’t known Orpho, but the rest took turns touching the name.

“Remember when he got drunk at Leteeka’s and fell asleep?” Yancey asked.

“Yeah, you put the entire bill on his tab before we left,” Udu said.

“You snooze, you lose,” Tomiko said.

Rev chuckled, then added, “I sure miss that asshole.”

“We all do,” Tomiko said.

Just before they left, Tomiko knelt and removed a bottle of St. Elko’s Gold, which was Orpho’s favorite, from her cargo pocket, and placed it on the ground beneath his name.

“You knew about this?” Rev said, sweeping his arm to encompass all of the mementos being left by others.

She shrugged and said, “Pikachu told me about it. People have been doing it since the Twentieth Century on Mother Earth. And there was talk, you know.”

“Punch?”

<You never asked me.>

They made the rounds together. Rev didn’t know a few of the names, and he’d already said his personal goodbyes three weeks ago, so he stayed in the background for the most part.

It was another three hours before Rev reminded the others that they had to get back.

“We’ve got the ents coming aboard on Monday, and there’s a lot to do before then if we’re getting the weekend off. It’s time we got going.”

Udu said she was staying. Cricket had the kids, and her unit had the morning off. But the rest made their way out of the memorial and headed to where the Navy was running buses back to both the spaceport and the maglev station.

As they left the park, a couple dozen protestors were gathered at the gate.

“What are they bitching about?” Tomiko asked.

Rev just frowned. There were anti-war protestors popping up all the time, mostly isolationists who believed that humans should not be involved in foreign wars. Which was stupid, as far as he was concerned. The Naxli attacked humanity, not the other way around. And humanity’s alien allies were helping in the fight.

And then there were Children of Angels who were back protesting, but not for isolationism. They wanted full integration with the Sia, who they deemed the true superior race who were going to lift humanity up to the next level.

As they got closer, it was obvious that this group was from the anti-war protestors. They chanted and challenged all the “imperialists” and “warmongers” leaving the ceremony.

One of the protestors shouted that the names of the dead represented the victims of the industrial complex, and Hussein’s anger flared. He rushed that man, who took a couple of steps back and raised his sign as if it were a weapon.

“You fucking idiot. We’re Marines. If anyone doesn’t want war, it’s us. Those are our friends back on that wall. But we fought to protect assholes like you!”

A woman got between them and said, “We never asked you to.”

Hussein started to respond, but Rev had reached him by then and grabbed him with his left arm to pull him back.

“Leave it, Hus-man. They’re not worth it.”

But by reaching for Hussein, he’d exposed his shiny prosthesis.

Both the man and woman spotted it, and the man said, “Gennies,” with a look of disgust on his face.

He backed up even farther as Rev pulled Hussein away. But the comment hit him hard. He hadn’t been called a genny for well over a year.

Have they heard anything?

The existence of the Genesians had been covered up. As far as he knew, the fact that they had a significant population on Pakao had somehow failed to leak out to the general public, at least as of yet.

“Come on, you two,” Tomiko said, pulling on their arms. “They’re idiots.”

Rev turned away, dragging Hussein. He heard the sound of spitting behind him, but he didn’t feel anything and decided that it was best if he assumed that whoever it was had just spit on the ground.

“Are there rumors that the gennies are still alive?” he asked Punch.

<There have been rumors for two hundred years. But there hasn’t been a statistically significant uptick.>

“When they find out, it’s going to be a shitstorm.”

<I believe that’s what’s called an understatement,> Punch said as they loaded up the bus.

2

“It was pretty impressive, I have to say,” Rev’s father said. “They did a good job.”

“Of course, they did a good job, Max,” his mother added. “All of the eyes of humanity were on us. If the rumor’s true, Wynn’s got thoughts of a New Mars position, so she was going to make this shine.”

“You’re being too cynical, Elisabet. It was just pride,” his father answered. “And respect for those who died, of course,” he hastily added.

“Respect for the fallen,” Rev and Tomiko said automatically.

Rev wasn’t that sure that the “eyes of humanity” had been trained on the memorial’s dedication. The planet’s eyes, certainly. Maybe some in the Union. The governor would be term-limited out next year, and if she had designs on a Union position in the capital, then it couldn’t hurt that things had gone well.

“Did you see anyone famous?” Neesy asked.

Hecant, her fiance, gave her a nudge. “They weren’t there to gawk at celebs.”

“Like you didn’t perk up when the camera hovered over Sonia Ford?”

“You’re much prettier than her, Neesy,” he said, leaning in for a peck on the cheek.

“Oh, by the Mother,” Tomiko whispered, too low for the two to hear but loud enough for Rev. “I’m going to gag.”

“Young love,” Rev whispered, barely over a subvocalization.

“We’re young. How come you never say things like that to me?”

“Probably because you’d elbow me in the ribs if I did.”

He expected the shot, and he wasn’t disappointed. Still, he grimaced, and his mother gave one of her patented I-don’t-understand-you-both looks.

“You two ready for another?” his father asked, raising his own beer.

“I’m fine,” Rev said.

“The lightweight here might not want one, but I’ll take another,” Tomiko said.

“She’s too good for you, Rev,” his father said as he leaned over and took another can out of the cooler at his side.

“So she keeps reminding me.”

He popped the cooling tab and handed it to her. She thanked him and took a sip.

“You never did say if you saw anyone famous,” Neesy said.

“Well, we saw Victoria Lansing,” Tomiko told her.

“She doesn’t count. You’ve been interviewed by her before. ’Sides, she was there to report, not as a guest.”

OK, Miko. You wanted sweet talk? You’ve got it.

“The only one I had eyes for was Miko.”

There were groans, and Tomiko gave him another elbow in the ribs, but he could see the twinkle in her eyes.

There was a ding from the kitchen, and Rev’s mother jumped up. “That’s the saltado.”

“I’ll help you, Mom,” Tomiko said, rising as well.

“No, you sit. You’re our guest.”

“Really? I’m here more than anywhere else.”

“Maybe I will have another, Dad,” Rev said as the two women went into the house.

Hecant must have decided that if Tomiko was helping, he should, too, so he left to join them as Rev took a long swallow of his cold beer. He leaned back in his chair and just absorbed the scene.

It was still summer, but with a hint of the coming fall. The air was pleasantly warm but without a hint of the mugginess that had hung over Swansea for the last week. Across the fence, he could hear shrieks of laughter from the Cobson children as they played in their pool.

It was hard to believe that they were in the middle of an intergalactic war, one encompassing multiple races. At this very moment, battles would be raging, and sentient beings would be dying. Here, though, it was just a lazy, completely normal Saturday evening. They were getting ready for a good meal, both in food and company, then he and Tomiko would be joining Neesy and Hecant at some hot new club for music and dancing.

Rev had been in some very dire situations. He’d killed and been close to being killed himself. But sitting here, next to his father and sipping a beer, that seemed more than a universe away, like a dream that was slipping from his grasp as he awoke.

“You know, your mom and Neesy kept watching the broadcast, hoping to see you,” his father said.

“Don’t act like you weren’t, too,” Neesy said.

“OK, maybe I was. But your mom and I, your sister, too, we’re so proud of you.”

Rev’s father wasn’t a stone who never gave out compliments, but hearing him say that made Rev feel self-conscious. He took another sip.

“When I think of you, getting my Hyundai confiscated, and then the look on your face when I had to come down to pick you up at the station—”

“I was scared shitless, Dad,”

His father laughed. “I knew you were. But, well, you’ve come so far since then. That arrogant pissant kid has become a man that anyone would be proud of. I just . . .”

“I know, Dad,” Rev said.

“I’d say it’s getting a little thick in here, but I feel the same way, big brother.”

“Isn’t this just a kumbaya moment?” Rev said as he choked up.

Hecant came to the door and said, “Ms. P says you’d better get in here before the saltado gets cold.”

“Rev’s not the only one who’s come a long way. Remember when all we got was fab food?” Neesy said as the three stood up.

“I don’t know what burr got under her saddle that made her want to learn to cook, but I wish she’d learned sooner while I still lived here.” He gave his father’s belly a pat. “But then again, looks like there’s a downside to all that good chow.”

“Hey, I can still take you, augments and all,” his father said, putting Rev in a mock headlock.

Together, the three walked into the house for the family dinner.

3

“Will you look at that?” Lieutenant Grayson said as he and Rev stepped out of the CP and onto the quad.

“That” was a company-sized unit of Breel—“ents,” as the human troopers called them.

The tall, tree-like aliens had never shown any type of military protocol, such as standing in formations or close-order drill, but at the moment, they were in a formation that would put a Marine company to shame.

“Trying to fit in, sir?” Rev asked.

“Looks like it. Well, go take the platoon.”

“Interesting times, sir.”

“You’ve got that right, Gunny.”

The troopers had been forming up for the last ten minutes. First, the team leaders had their troopers out there and inspected, then the squad leaders had their five minutes, and now it was Rev’s turn.

“Hurry up and wait” was as old as the concept of a formalized military. Rev hated the fact that a simple formation took so long. As a private, he’d hated it even more. But no matter that everyone gave lip service to not wasting time, it seemed impossible to actually do that. And with the Breel there, Lieutenant Colonel Caplan wanted to officially welcome them, which meant the simple act of getting into formation was now a five-step process.

Rev gave the platoon a quick glance as he strode up alongside them. They looked pretty good. Normally, they’d be slouching in position, jaw-jacking with those beside them. But now, with the Breel standing smartly and facing them, personal pride had instilled a little more discipline.

For most of them.

“Yance,” he said as he stopped beside the Third Squad leader. “Hvarser looks like shit. Her blouse is all kinds of messed up.”

Yancey looked confused. He glanced down the line and then rolled his eyes. “I just checked her,” he whined.

“I don’t care if you’ve checked her a hundred times. Fix it.”

Inspection was one of the three pillars of morning quarters—the other two being muster and instruction. However, the inspection part tended to be less detailed than a formal inspection.

Were they breathing?

Check.

Did they have on the uniform of the day?

Check.

But with the Breel in the camp and the battalion CO coming out to speak, there was a little more emphasis on their appearance.

Rev took his position at the front of the platoon, then faced them.

“OK, listen up,” he said in a low voice, just loud enough for the back rank to hear him. “Nothing’s changed. We’re still in our work-ups. Our friends standing there across the quad aren’t changing that. So, our priorities are to incorporate all you new joins to get us back to being combat-ready.”

He stopped for a moment and let his gaze sweep across the platoon, which had been decimated on Pakao. More than half of them now were new joins. They were supposedly the best the Marines and the other militaries could send, but it still took teamwork and practice to become an integrated, effective fighting force.

“But—and there’s always a but in there, right?—the ents are our allies. Like I told you on Monday, they’re good fighters. But like I also told you, they’re aliens. They’re different than us. Don’t expect them to act as humans do, or heck, even as you Mad Dogs do.”

There were chuckles and some nudging of the five karnans in the ranks.

“They can also be arrogant bas—”

He stopped himself, unsure if they could hear him or not.

Lowering his voice, he said, “They are a proud race—and competitive, too. They aren’t against a little blow-up if they think their honor has been attacked.”

Rev had his ass handed to him by Brown-Master Lyztomontz on Clickerland when Lvarn had gotten into an argument with a Breel, and he’d stepped in only to be decked by one of them.

“Those of us who’ve served with them know they walk the walk, though. Don’t forget that. And the powers that be decided that it’ll be a good thing for a little cross-training with them. Maybe it is. Maybe we could use the time to gel the battalion first. Doesn’t matter. They’re here.

“So, we’re going to do some cross-training. We’ll do some combined exercises, which could prove valuable in the future. What we aren’t going to do is get into a pissing contest with them. No arguments, and by the Mother, no fights. Anyone who gets in their faces will answer to me—”

He was interrupted by the lieutenant moving into position. Rev turned the platoon over and marched to his position at the back of the formation.

Despite his warning, Rev rather liked the Breel. They could be touchy, but so could humans. He had great respect for the Kanters, too, but he felt more aligned with the Breel. They could be—and had been—drinking buddies. You might get into a drunken fight late at night at a bar, but you were back to having each other’s backs in the morning.

Captain White Eagle took the company but didn’t address them. Less than a minute later, Lieutenant Colonel Caplan arrived with a Breel officer in tow. He took a position where he could address both humans and Breel and put them at ease.

Well, the humans went to a modified position of parade rest. The Breel didn’t seem to move one iota.

“On behalf of the commanding general, I want to welcome you Breel here to Camp Nguyen, and more specifically, here to Camp Reyes, home of the First Human Expeditionary Battalion.”

There was no need for a translator. The Breel were very good with languages, and all of those who came to Safe Harbor understood Standard.

“The next month will be an exercise in teamwork as we learn how to better coordinate our fight to defeat the Naxli threat. Some of us on the human side have worked with you before, and from what Major Frenualo just told me, some of you Breel have worked with humans.”

The Breel didn’t have the same rank system that humans had, so “major” was a rough equivalent.

“This joint training will be an opportunity to further our integration. I charge each and every one of you, human and Breel alike, to explore how we can best maximize each other’s strengths.”

He paused and turned to the Breel commander as if asking if he had anything to say. The Breel made a small slashing motion with one of its spindly arms, their equivalent to a head shake.

“Training is starting right away, so I’m not going to keep you here any longer,” the CO said. “Captain White Eagle, Captain Graf, take charge of your companies and carry out the remainder of your training schedule.”

Captain White Eagle saluted, as did the Breel commander. Saluting was another thing Rev had never seen a Breel do. Evidently, they were pulling out the stops to do as Rome does.

But that didn’t concern Rev. There still wasn’t a replacement on deck for Gunny Lian, so Rev was dual-hatted as both platoon sergeant and company gunny, and now he had to make sure the transport was waiting to move Alpha and the Breel company to the range.

He ducked out of the back of the formation before the captain addressed the company and jogged back to the parking lot behind the CP, praying that Top Olyn and Sergeant Puller had the vehicles there.

* * *

“Sir, we’re exposed on the left flank,” Rev passed on the P2P.

There was a moment of silence. Rev could imagine Lieutenant Grayson frantically examining his combat display.

“Shit, I see what you’re saying. And I should . . . shift Fourth Squad farther over?”

“That’ll leave a gap in our lines. I’d suggest having them refuse the flank where they are.”

“Got it. I’ll give the orders.”

Rev waited a moment to listen in. But the lieutenant had it now.

Lieutenant Grayson was an excellent administrator. He always seemed to be running around like a chicken with his head cut off, but he got things done. He was not, however, a good field tactician.

It wasn’t his fault. He was a logistician by trade. His AI was all about numbers and timelines, not infantry combat. And no matter the mantra that every Marine was an infantryman, that just wasn’t true for all practical purposes.

And that changed the dynamic between the two of them. The lieutenant ceded much of the tactical control of the platoon to Rev. But as this was training, Rev had suggested that the platoon commander take this exercise without his gunny training wheels.

In the end, though, Rev couldn’t help himself. He had to step in.

Grayson shouldn’t be in the position in the first place. He’d come down as a temporary platoon commander after Lieutenant Marble was killed. But it had been a month now, and there was no replacement in sight. Given that the battalion was supposedly the best of the best, the situation was unsat, to say the least.

Rumor had it that a Marine captain had been slated for the position, but Tau Ceti wanted one of theirs to replace Marble. The command acquiesced, but the platoon was still waiting. And so, Lieutenant Grayson was stuck in a position where his training was lacking.

Firing broke out along the line. Rev had waited too long to suggest the shift. The Breel had identified the gap and were exploiting it.

He broke out into a run. If he could just get there in time to plug the hole . . .

<Eleven o’clock.>

Rev wheeled and fired his twenty at the Breel soldiers who were rushing into the platoon’s defense. Two of them stopped, and Rev felt a surge of excitement as his warrior self rushed to the fore. That lasted for all of five seconds before his display lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Son of a bitch!” he shouted, slamming Pashu into the trunk of a nearby tree and taking out a good chunk of it. “That’s bullshit!”

Rev was in his PAL-HX, and it could take a lot of punishment. There was no way he’d just been taken out by a Breel small arm. But the umpires, conscious of the political aspects of Human-Breel cooperation, had programmed the mortality and damage assessments for these force-on-force operations.

He stood there, glaring at the Breel, who were rushing by. Lieutenant Vindeeloo gave him a mock human salute as he ran past him.

“Don’t worry. Payback’s a bitch. Sir.”

With them behind the defense, it was a foregone conclusion, but Rev silently watched the platoon get rolled up. This was the third time in four exercises that the Breel had won these little contests, which was a bad showing for the “best of the best.” Granted, the Breel were probably their elite as well, but still . . .

Rev blamed the fact that they were still essentially a brand-new unit. They hadn’t had time yet to bring the new joins up to speed and create a cohesive fighting force. They needed another four months—six months would be better—before they were ready for combat.

He understood that with the Naxli, time was a luxury they might not have. But why weren’t the Breel with a combat-ready unit instead? Then the battalion could focus on getting trained up again.

“First Platoon, bring it in,” the lieutenant passed on the net.

Rev started trudging over, and Grayson came up on the P2P. “I guess I got us all killed,” he said in a dejected voice.

Yeah, you did.

But he said, “It’s the damage assessment. The umpires are stacking the deck against us.”

“But they came right through the gap I left in the lines.”

“And so you learned for next time, sir.”

“Or until our Ranger platoon commander gets here.”

The lieutenant sounded miserable.

“Just buck up, sir. Don’t let the troopers see you down.”

“Yeah, Gunny. I got it. I can playact with the best of them. But you and I know I screwed up.”

“Like I said, sir. Lessons learned.”

The lieutenant switched off their direct circuit, and Rev joined Fourth Squad as they made their way to the platoon CP. Five Breel stood in a group, watching them troop past.

“You look pretty energetic for a dead human,” Lieutenant Vindeeloo said.

“Next time, sir. We’ve got your number now.”

The four Breel made their rattling laughter equivalent, and Red Apprentice Kzing gave them a dispirited finger.

They had two more days of force-on-force before they started integrated exercises. Rev would dearly love to at least draw even with the Breel, but he just didn’t see it happening.

* * *

If Rev had thought the platoon was not ready for combat, then they were light years ahead of the integrated platoons. Rev had fought with the Breel before on Grum, but they had acted as separate maneuver elements. And during the rescue of the Breel prisoners, that had been primarily a human operation.

It wasn’t that the Breel were weak fighters. They were good. Almost Marine good. But they were competitive, thought their way was the best way, and were pigheaded.

<Just like a Marine,> Punch had remarked after Rev bitched to him about their allies.

There might have been some truth to what his battle buddy said, but Rev laid most of their problems upon the Breel inflexibility.

“The order stated that if we were hit by an ambush, the support element—that’s you—would lay down a base of fire,” he told Gunnery Sergeant Hoolan.

Once again, the Breel didn’t have “gunnery sergeants.” Rev thought the Breel soldier was something more akin to a warrant officer, or maybe midshipman. But all of the Breel wore Marine Corps rank insignia on their combat armor.

“We saw the opportunity and took it.”

“Our SOP—”

“SOP, SOP. You humans love that term,” the Breel said.

Rev took a deep breath and counted to five.

“Without the base of fire to suppress the ambush, we lost six troopers. You lost five soldiers.”

“This is war, is it not? You have a saying, ‘Shit happens.’”

“Soldiers are not to be wasted. We need every fighter if we want to defeat the noxes,” Rev said,

“We won the battle we faced. That is what matters.”

Yeah, we won against six training bots. But we lost eleven troopers between us. That’s a price too high to pay.

Rev was having his doubts that a combined force of humans and Breel would ever work. And this was probably the most likely combination.

The Niklith were deadly fighters, and the two had fought together on Pakao. But they’d fought as separate, self-contained units. Rev had fought with Kanters, even assaulting the top of the hill together on Granite. And while he loved the diminutive aliens, he couldn’t imagine having them in the same unit. They were totally on a different sphere.

The Toan had been the closest to humans, but there just weren’t many of them, and they didn’t have the martial spirit, that killer instinct, that Rev thought was necessary to be effective warriors.

That left the Breel. Rev liked and admired them, but to be honest, he’d about had enough of their pigheaded arrogance. He could respect them yet want to keep them at arm’s length.

But the command was bound and determined to make this work. Rumor had it that if this succeeded, Breel soldiers would be assigned to the battalion.

“Look, Hoolan. I’m going to call up Captain White Eagle and ask if we can start again. When we hit the ambush this time, can you stick to the SOP? Then we can compare the results. Is that fair?”

For a moment, Rev thought the Breel leader would refuse, but he agreed. Most likely, that was because he thought that by doing so, it would prove that his course of action would be better.

Maybe it will be. I’m open to finding out.

He never got the chance to see, though. The recall sounded, bringing them in from the field.

“Do you know what this is about?” Rev asked the lieutenant, who was out with one of the other patrols.

“I don’t have a clue, Gunny. I was just told that we’ve got transport waiting for us.”

Rev looked up to the sky. He’d been on Safe Harbor when the Centaurs had invaded, and the fear that the enemy would hit his homeworld was always something at the back of his mind. But there were no anti-orbital missile trails reaching for the stars.

“Do you think we have a mission, sir?”

“We’re not ready, Gunny. You keep telling me that, at least. So, let’s just stop with the guessing and get back. They’ll let us know.”

“Roger that. I’ll see you in the rear.”

Not immediately, though. It only took ten minutes to get to the start of the range, but there wasn’t any transport waiting there. Second Platoon came out off the range, and Tomiko joined him in the bleachers.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Well, my guess is either that the ents are going home or that they’re being permanently assigned to the battalion.”

Rev grunted. He didn’t know which one would be preferable. “And why do you say that?”

“What else could it be?”

“Oh, a nox invasion of Swansea, for one.”

Tomiko pointed toward the southwest. “Do you see anything over there?”

“I didn’t say it was happening. Just that there are other possibilities.”

She took off her helmet and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the fall sun on her face.

“I’m just going to relax for now, Rev. I suggest you do the same.”

Rev took off his helmet as well, then scratched his scalp. He pulled a Draco Bar out of his thigh holster and took a bite.

Tomiko grabbed it out of his hand, bit off half of the bar, then handed it back.

“You’re lucky you’re my girl,” he said, looking at what was left of his candy.

“No, you’re lucky,” she said.

* * *

It was another hour before they were back at Reyes. The company trooped into the gym to join the rest of the battalion. The Breel, too, were directed inside.

“Maybe you’re right,” he told Tomiko, pointing at their alien allies.

“I usually am.”

“Punch, still nothing?” Rev asked his battle buddy.

<No. I’m still cut off from the undernet.>

That was a little disquieting, but it wasn’t totally out of the ordinary. The undernet was blocked aboard the base about once a month. Sometimes, it was when deployed Marines were killed. All comms and the net were shut down until the next of kin were notified.

“ATTENTION ON DECK!” someone shouted, and the battalion’s troopers stood at a position of attention.

Rev could see Lieutenant Colonel Caplan, accompanied by the adjutant and sergeant major, march into the gym, the troopers parting around him as he made his way to the center of the basketball court.

“First Human Expeditionary Battalion and Dagger Company,” he said, his voice amplified by a remote mic. “We are currently in Condition 1-Alpha. The base is now closed.”

There was a sudden rise of sound as the troopers reacted.

“At ease!” the sergeant major shouted, her unamplified voice still cutting through the noise.

“Approximately one hour and twenty minutes ago, a major fleet, which from all indications is Naxli, appeared in the home system,” the CO continued.

This time the roar was louder, and it took almost thirty seconds to restore order.

“The alert battalion has already departed. We don’t have orders yet, but you can be sure they’re coming.” Caplan paused for a moment, then said, “I know that we’re in a rebuilding phase. But that doesn’t matter. The noxes don’t give a flying fuck what our status is. And when the command gives us our mission, we’ll get it done. I have confidence in you.

“Commanders, turn over your units to your seconds with orders to start getting gear staged and personnel ready to deploy. Then join me in the CP. For the rest of you, I will endeavor to keep everyone informed on what’s happening. That is all for now.”

“ATTENTION ON DECK!”

The colonel marched out. The minute he stepped through the door, the place lit up with noise.

Rev was in shock. The home system was the best-defended place in all of human space. The Centaurs had attacked, and even with their vaunted Navy, they hadn’t been able to defeat the system’s defenses. But still, what had happened was an emotional gut punch.

This was the home system. This was where Mother Earth was.

“I guess I was wrong,” Tomiko said.

“What?”

“I thought the meeting was about the ents. I never thought it would be this.”

4

Rev ran his thumb along the edge of the Uauii blade. It was still wickedly sharp. The roly-poly, three-legged aliens might be crappy soldiers, but they could sure make nice toys. Not just functional but beautiful.

He’d come close to getting the blade confiscated as they returned from Clickerland, but his Kanter buddies had come through for him, removing the blade from his seabag before customs could find it.

“Gunny! The armory’s screwing us,” Over-Sergeant Linno Rantz, the MDS karnan and Second Squad leader, said as he pounded on the office door sill.

With a sigh, Rev sheathed the blade. His few moments of calm, snatched from the chaos, were gone.

“What’s the problem?”

“They aren’t issuing the weapons.”

“Punch? When was our slot?”

<Fourteen hundred.>

Rev checked the time: fourteen-oh-nine.

“They know we’re scheduled for fourteen hundred, right?” he asked Rantz.

“Yeah, they know. But they said to come back at eighteen hundred.”

Which wasn’t going to work. They’d be in the middle of their gear draw at eighteen hundred.

“Did they say why?” Rev asked as he stood.

“Nope. Nothing.”

“OK, get back there and stand by. I’ll stop at the Four shop to see what’s up.”

“Roger that,” the karnan said before bolting off.

Rev debated for a moment about telling the lieutenant what was going on, but he decided against it. The officers were all in a frenzy of planning, and getting weapons issued was right up a platoon sergeant’s responsibilities.

As he reached the entrance to the building, he heard, “Rev, wait up.”

He turned to see Tomiko hurrying down the corridor, her face twisted in an expression that said not to mess with her.

“The armory?” she snapped.

“Yep.”

“Those pogue-ass bastards playing their games. How in the hell are we supposed to get to One-Alpha if they won’t issue us our weapons?”

Alert Condition One-Alpha meant that all combat units aboard the base had to be able to deploy in two hours. That also meant that the Marines had to have their weapons and combat kit issued, which they kept with them at all times.

The First Human Expeditionary Battalion wasn’t technically part of the Marine division. Their operational chain of command went straight to the CoH Home Guard on Enceladus. But they were administratively attached to the division, so that meant they were under the same alert condition.

“I’m heading to the Four to find out what’s going on,” Rev said.

“And I’m going with you.”

They crossed the quad to the battalion CP, which was a hub of activity. They were in the first phase of the resupply and training cycle, so this alert had hit them at a bad time. Of course, for them, it was just a scramble. Back in the home system, it was a fight for their very existence.

They barged into the S-4 office. Top Olyn was in the outer office, and he scowled at the two gunnies.

“What do you want?”

“We want our fucking weapons, Top,” Tomiko said.

“Yeah, and I want a twenty-year-old masseuse to take the kinks out of my neck.”

“We were supposed to draw at fourteen-fifteen,” Tomiko said. “Now, we’re supposed to come back in four hours.”

“You didn’t get the word?”

“Evidently not,” Rev said.

“I’ve lost half of my armorers. They’re helping Seventh Marines issue their weapons.”

Seventh Marines was debarking that evening, so it made sense that they might need help.

“It would have been nice if someone told us,” Rev said.

“I just did.”

“We’re supposed to come back at eighteen hundred, but that isn’t going to work. We’re doing our combat kit draw then.”

“Talia! What time’s the gear draw?” the Top yelled.

“For who?”

“Alpha.”

“Zero-four tomorrow,” the corporal said without raising her head from whatever she was doing at her desk.

Top Olyn turned back to Rev and Tomiko and said, “I guess you can make it to the armory at eighteen hundred.”

“This is bullshit, Top. What if we get orders? Everyone else is.”

“And yet, we don’t have any orders yet. So, unless you’ve got anything else . . . ?”

Tomiko started to say something, but Rev dragged her away. He was just as frustrated, but the top was only doing his job, one that Rev didn’t envy. Getting the battalion ready to deploy largely fell upon the S-4, and he knew that they still hadn’t received all of their replacement gear and personnel.

“This is bullshit,” Tomiko said as they left the CP.

“So you told the top.”

“I mean it. We need to be ready to go, too.”

“Miko, we don’t have orders yet, but it looks like the rest of the camp does. They’ve got to take priority.”

Rev didn’t really know if the entire division was going to the home system. The alert battalion was already gone, and now Seventh was deploying. He wasn’t sure what they would be doing, though.

The Navy made sense. From what little he’d been able to glean, Rev knew that at present, the fight was naval, so ships pulled from the Safe Harbor system could contribute to the defense of the home system. There wouldn’t be much for Marines to do unless the Naxli made landfall.

“But why do they have priority? We’re the premier force on the planet. We should be the ones deploying,” Tomiko said.

“Maybe they know we’re at half-strength, Miko.”

Or, the Marine command was concerned about deploying with their own forces, and the Home Guard might have a little much on their plate now to worry about the three battalions in the First Human Expeditionary Brigade. He didn’t bring that up to her, though.

“Maybe it’s time for you to put on your company gunny hat and hit up Captain White Eagle?”

“What’s the skipper going to do? It is what it is, Miko.”

She shook her head. “So, what now, then?”

“Now we get our platoons ready the best we can. Weapons at eighteen hundred, combat gear issue at zero-four.”

* * *

It ended up being two more days before Alpha Company was officially placed on Condition One-Alpha. As more Marine units were deploying, the entire battalion kept getting pushed to the end of the line.

There were a few good things happening, though. Some of their replacement gear was released directly from receiving before it was inspected. Included in those shipments was a nice surprise: a crate of Toanphones. The commercial phones used by the Toan had proven to work well against Naxli jamming. Rev was surprised that they’d been delivered without having some government agency go through two years of testing.

On the personnel side, a contingent of Confederation soldiers and twelve Hégémonie Liberté Legionnaires, who’d been onboard a civilian liner, had arrived. And three more IBHU Marines reported in. They’d barely been fitted with their IBHUs and had minimal training. Captain White Eagle was tasked with bringing them up to speed and, after conferring with Rev, assigned Staff Sergeants Tsao and Kelly to whip them into shape.

First Platoon was slated to get one of them. After losing both Hochenspatter and Thiel, one newbie, barely trained IBHU wasn’t going to make up for that. But at this stage, Rev was grateful for any additional IBHUs.

And who knew? Maybe one of them would turn out like Sergeant Cocker. She was an insta-corporal IBHU, but she’d proven her worth in battle.

Camp Nguyen was rapidly turning into a ghost town. More and more Marines were deploying. The battalion kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but they hadn’t even received a warning order.

The worst thing was not knowing what was going on. They weren’t getting any updates, and with the camp closed off from the outside galaxy, they couldn’t go to civilian sources of information.

Naval battles could take a long time, or they could be over in hours. The deeper in space and the faster the speeds, the longer they could take. Close in, and at in-system speeds, the battles tended to be of shorter duration.

After four days, with more Marines leaving Safe Harbor, the frustration level was peaking. Several fights broke out, twice between humans and Breel.

The decision had been made that the Breel would return home. But with no Breel spacecraft in the area, and with all human spacecraft, both Navy and civilian, having higher priority missions, the Breel company was stuck with the battalion for the time being.

That’s when Lieutenant Colonel Caplan took action. The battalion gear and ammunition were staged. Each trooper had their weapon and combat kit. So, instead of waiting in the battalion area, he took the entire unit to the field. They were still far from a coordinated, integrated unit, and every hour they could spend training brought them a little closer to their goal.

And with so many Marine units gone, they had no problem scheduling training areas.

The ops tempo was intense. The CO and Bundy, now the S-3, kept throwing events at them. There wasn’t time to worry about what was happening back in the Sol System. And slowly but surely, the unit started to gel again. Most of them had been the survivors of Pakao. They still had the knowledge and skills. Nothing had been lost. It was just a matter of integrating the new joins and figuring out how to perform the same missions with fewer personnel.

Rev wasn’t that surprised. They drew from the best each military had to offer, after all. They really were the elite. And with the urgency of the present situation, there was the motivation to keep pushing.

That wasn’t just the humans. As the troopers improved, the Breel, with their competitive nature, strove to excel as well.

The battalion might not be at the same level as they were before Pakao, but Rev thought they were combat-capable. The question was if the Home Guard would give them a mission.

That question became OBE, though.

Seven days after the Naxli attacked the home system, they came to Safe Harbor.

5

“There goes another one,” Corporal Ethereal Randigold said.

Rev wasn’t so sure. The flash of light high in the afternoon sky could be a Naxli landing craft being destroyed, or it could be a Navy ground-to-orbit missile being intercepted. But if thinking it was the former raised morale, then he was going to leave it at that.

The last thirteen hours had been hectic as the depleted numbers of ground forces rushed to form defensive positions while the remaining naval forces tried to hold off the Naxli invaders. Updates had been few and far between, but the fact that the enemy was in the process of landing and the ground-to-orbit missiles were being deployed was a pretty good indication that things weren’t going well for the humans.

One thing was for certain. Humanity had been played. The attack on the home system may or may not be a feint, but it had drawn both naval and ground forces away from the planet, leaving just a skeleton defense.

And it wasn’t just Safe Harbor that was being hit. Alabaster, Yamoussoukro, and Saint Anna had been attacked as well.

“Why Safe Harbor?” Kelly had asked as the IBHU Marines drew their weapons systems. “We’re not New Mars.”

It was a valid question and one that Rev didn’t have an answer to. Alabaster was the capital planet of the Manifest Destiny Sphere, Yamoussoukro was the seat of the Hégémonie Liberté Parliament, and Saint Anna was the capital of the Frisian Mantle. Safe Harbor was just one of the provincial planets in the Perseus Union, not even a charter world.

It was difficult to understand the motives of the Naxli. Since the arrival of the humans into the loose alliance of those opposing them, they’d been losing ground. Maybe this was a last-gasp effort, like that of the Germans against the western powers in the Battle of the Bulge back in 20th Century Earth.

But even if they took Safe Harbor and the other scattered planets, what would that accomplish? There were hundreds of other planets, and even the bulk of the planet’s military strength, which had deployed to protect Mother Earth, would remain intact.

And, while Rev didn’t want to dwell on it, if all they were doing was making a statement, then why not simply destroy the planet, like they did with Farthmenger? Why risk a landing this deep into human space? Those fighters would then be trapped, sitting ducks for the inevitable retribution that would ensue.

Another flash lit up the sky, but this time it originated from the ground, along the top of the Klingman Range. The Naxli were hitting back at the missile stations. A moment later, another one was hit.

“Looks like they’ll make it to the ground,” Over-sergeant Rantz said with what sure sounded like a touch of excitement in his voice.

Rev gave him a sidelong glance. Rantz was an MDS karnan, and like all of his ilk, arrogant and full of himself. Being confident was all well and good, but surely he had to realize that they were not in a good position. Including the First Human Expeditionary Battalion and the Breel company, there were probably fewer than two thousand Marines on the continent. Add a few thousand police who were being mobilized as auxiliaries, and that still wouldn’t be nearly enough to face who knew how many Naxli warriors.

“How’re your positions?” Rev asked him.

“Ready and waiting.”

“I don’t have your PDFs.”

He could see Rantz try to control the rolling of his eyes. The MDS soldiers were good fighters, and the karnans even more so. But they had a tendency to work off the cuff, and they looked down on some of the SOPs of the other militaries.

In this case, he had a point. The platoon was arrayed at the far end of the Anastasia spaceport, ready to be deployed as a quick reaction force. The chances of them actually fighting from this position were next to nil, so whatever Principal Direction of Fire for each Marine was laid out now would be OBE once the platoon was given a concrete mission.

But Rev knew that they’d have to be completely coordinated if they hoped to hold off the invaders, and he didn’t want Rantz, or anyone else, to go rambo on him. So, if that took keeping to the SOP, then that was what he’d do.

The karnans understood military discipline, though. Even if Rantz thought making a squad diagram was a waste of time, he started moving down the line and checking each trooper’s PDF.

Which reminds me. I need to check the Jackhammer team.

He had two of the crew-served weapons attached from Weapons Platoon. If it came down to it, the two would commence firing their FPF, their Final Protective Fire. The intent was to create an active barrier of crisscrossing rounds which would prevent the assaulting enemy from approaching.

“What do you have here?” he asked Corporal Henks, the Confed Jackhammer team leader.

He squatted behind E-Spec 3 Jlanka, the actual gunner of this Jackhammer, and looked down the barrel.

“Locked and loaded, Gunny. Two thousand, fourteen rounds of Number 16. PDFs right down taxi lights to two fingers off the yellow gantry. FPF is right at the decon station,” Henks said. “Seiko’s gun is crossing, using the building with the yellow stripe as her aiming point.”

“Show me,” Rev told Punch.

Immediately, a diagram was inserted into his visual cortex. It was a good layout. If the Naxli assaulted them across the tarmac, they’d be cut to pieces. That probably wasn’t going to happen, but it gave Rev a warm and fuzzy that Henks and his team knew what they were doing.

“Sounds good—” Rev started to say when several voices called out, “Here they come!”

He whirled around and scanned the skies. Two, three, and then a dozen far-off shapes appeared. They weren’t Union Navy.

As more seemed to coalesce out in the distance, a single smaller missile—probably shoulder-launched—reached up. The Naxli assault craft immediately returned fire, but the missile ran true and hit one of the craft, which then listed and plunged to the ground trailing smoke.

There was a muted cheer from the platoon.

Rev shouted, “Take cover!” as he ran back to his fighting hole. They might not be actually fighting from it, but with the overhead shields, they’d provide some protection from Naxli prep fires.

He jumped into his hole. They’d been dug at the edge of the tarmac by a group of Ninety-nines. All were the same size, which made his a tight fit. He pulled the shield over his head not a moment too soon. Energy beams swept the tarmac. Enough got past his overhead protection to tickle his PAL’s shield, but without degrading it.

It was sufficient, though, to hammer home the fact that things were about to get real.

* * *

The turret on top of the assault craft poured fire into the police auxiliary defenders as the ramp lowered. Rev, running up from two hundred meters to the flank, set the targeting point on the turret, then fired a Moray. As the missile covered the short distance, Naxli started emerging down the ramp at a sprint.

The Moray impacted in a flash of flames, cutting off the outgoing fire, but the stream of Naxli fighters didn’t stop. Rev switched to his twenty millimeter, and with Randigold fifteen meters to his left, cut down the enemy. A few seemed to realize there was danger to their left, and they tried to reorient, but the police on one side and the troopers on the other had them in a crossfire. None of the enemy made it more than twenty or thirty meters before they were dropped.

The assault craft started to crab forward when something hit it and broke its back. The rear collapsed onto the tarmac. Incredibly, the front tried to keep going until sparks burst from one of the engines, then it crashed to the ground and exploded.

The shock wave rolled over the troopers, but Rev was already shifting Second Squad to the next assault craft that was just landing eight hundred meters away. He fired a Moray that hit it but didn’t seem to have much impact. The turret on the top swiveled toward him, and troopers dove for whatever cover they could find, which wasn’t much. Heavy rounds chewed up the ground, one peppering Rev with blasted bits of cerrocrete. He probably wouldn’t have survived without his PAL.

The Naxli disappeared into the smoke of a downed assault craft. Rev chased them with his twenty before cutting Pashu off. He couldn’t afford to waste rounds.

“Status?”

“All systems green. Power at ninety-one-point-three percent. Shields at eighty-eight-point-two percent. One thousand, four hundred and three twenty-millimeter rounds. Three Morays.”

A little worse than he’d hoped, but he still had plenty with which to fight. He took a moment to get his bearings. Things had gone to hell in a handbasket. The defensive plan, such as it was, hadn’t lasted more than a few moments. The Naxli had come in with much greater numbers and spread out over a much larger area than expected.

When the initial craft attempted to land at Field D, Alpha Company had been ordered to meet it, but heavy orbital fire broke up the movement. The company was scattered under the intense fire, and Rev wasn’t even sure where the rest of the platoon was. With the fight breaking down into small, individual fights, Rev had taken command of Second Platoon in an attempt to stem the tide, at least at their location.

The spaceport was a madhouse. The ruins of the main terminal were in flames. Crashed assault craft littered the tarmac, casualties of the landing. But several had successfully disgorged their Naxli cargo and had taken off again. And in the second wave, what looked like regular shuttlecraft in the hundreds were inbound.

But the spaceport was only a small part of the enemy assault. Rev could see that the entire valley was being hit, and while the Marines, police, and the First Human Expeditionary Battalion had inflicted heavy damage upon the first wave of the invasion force, it wasn’t enough.

From the looks of it, most of the shuttles, at least, were heading for the outskirts of the city where there was no real organized resistance. The assault craft had located the main human defense by drawing its fire, and now the Naxli looked like they were avoiding it.

An immense explosion erupted from the center of the landing field, sending tons of cerrocrete and underlying dirt into the air.

Probably our side, but it’s too late.

“Gunny, what now?” Rantz shouted at him from where he’d taken cover behind a piece of wreckage.

Yeah, Reverent. What now?

He tried to get a better picture of the smoke-covered battlefield. Rev could see shapes running, but with the visibility, he couldn’t be sure if they were human or Naxli.

He tried to raise the lieutenant, but of course, their comms had been jammed from the moment the Naxli had emerged from the blackout belt.

Well, we know where some of the noxes are.

Rev pointed to where the Naxli had disappeared into the smoke and said, “After them!”

It wasn’t much of an order, but in the chaos of the battle, it was about the best he could do.

Amazingly, the squad was still intact, and Rantz had them up and running in good order. Half of the squad had been with the unit for less than a month, but they looked like seasoned pros as they rushed through the debris that littered the tarmac.

<One o’clock. Naxli>

Rev brought Pashu around and engaged the shadowy shapes. He couldn’t tell who they were, but he trusted Punch to identify them as valid targets. Lance Corporal Tannen, running beside him, opened up as well, and the three shapes fell to the ground.

“Get some, Gunny!” Tannen shouted a moment before he dropped to the ground as fire raked the troopers from the left.

Rev immediately reacted, bringing Pashu around to meet the new threat, but he held up at the exact same instant that Punch said, <Cease fire. Those are friendly forces.>

Not everyone realized who was engaging them. When they’d turned to follow the Naxli, that had put the police on their left flank. The darts impacting them were from the poorly trained police auxiliaries’ M-49s.

“Cease fire and take cover!” Rev screamed as he darted to Tannen, grabbed his dead man’s handle, and then dragged him behind a chunk of what might have been part of a Naxli landing craft.

Randigold fired a burst from Cruella de Vil.

“Eth! Cease fire!”

She turned to look at Rev in confusion.

“They’re the police!” Rev shouted again.

Several darts winged off of her PAL, and she quickly went flat. She twisted her body around and asked, “What the hell do we do now?”

Rev put the volume on his loudspeakers to max. “Police auxiliaries, cease fire. We’re Marines!”

They weren’t all Marines, but Rev wasn’t going to confuse them.

“Cease fire!” he shouted again, which was picked up by the others.

It took almost thirty seconds for the fire to slacken, and a querulous-sounding voice called out, “How do we know that?”

“By the Mother, I’m an IBHU—an azri,” he said, switching to the nickname that had taken over the general populace. “Do you want me to light you up with my twenty-millimeter cannon to prove it?”

There was a pause, then the voice called out, “No, don’t shoot. Sorry!”

Sorry my Mother-loving ass.

But no more darts reached out to them, so Rev turned to Tannen.

“What’s your status?”

“The motherfuckers blew a hole in my PAL,” the lance corporal grunted, sounding as if it were a personal insult.

“Let me look,” Rev said, pulling himself over the prone Marine.

There was a neat hole on the right side of his PAL, just below the chest carapace. Around the edge of the hole were signs of burning, and that explained it.

After the Centaur invasion of the planet, the police were organized into the auxiliary, with three weeks of military training per year. The Marines had transferred older Charlie models of the M-49 as their main armament.

The M-49’s main round was a two-millimeter dart with expanding fins that extended another two-and-one-half millimeters on three sides after it cleared the barrel. They were deadly against a lightly armored target, but it would take an extremely lucky shot to damage a Marine in a PAL.

To better fight the Naxli, the M-51 had been introduced. The new round was a two-point-two-millimeter dart, which didn’t seem like much of a difference. But the extra two hundred micrometers allowed for a tiny shape charge on the tip of each dart. They weren’t going to take out a tank, but the slight assist had proven effective against the Naxli’s organic armor. And judging from the hole in Tannen’s PAL, against Marine combat suits as well.

Either these police had been issued M-51s, or their M-49s had been retrofitted to handle the slightly larger dart.

“What’s your battle buddy say?” he asked the lance corporal.

“The entry’s not bad,” Tannen said, his voice already shifting from anger and shock to the dreamy la-la land of someone whose medinanos were pumping him full of happy juice along with the antibiotics. “But the damn round hit the back of my PAL and ricocheted around. Looks like it tore up my gut some.”

Gut shots were always nasty, but if he wasn’t bleeding out, Tannen would make it—provided that the Naxli didn’t have something to say about that. Rev glanced up. Above the smoke and dust that still hovered over the spaceport, he could see waves of shuttles and landing craft descending around the city. Even with a full division at Camp Nguyen, he wasn’t sure there would be enough to repel the invasion.

The bastards played it well, he had to grudgingly tell himself.

“Can you move?” Rev asked.

“I think so,” Tannen said as he tried to sit up.

Rev held him down. “Not yet. Let the nanos do their thing. Even a couple of extra minutes can make a difference.”

That was assuming that they had a couple of minutes here. They couldn’t just hunker down where they were as more and more Naxli landed. He needed to come up with a course of action that had even a small chance of doing any good.

The Naxli who’d managed to debark at the spaceport had pulled back beyond the ruined terminal, probably to consolidate their forces. The sounds of fighting from that direction had died down to a degree, but he was sure that any lull was temporary. If the troopers were going to make a difference, the platoon had to reconnect, then hit the enemy before they had the chance to regroup.

He motioned Rantz over.

“We need to hook up with the rest of the platoon, then take the fight to the noxes before they’re all on the ground. I know they have to be over to the right of us, so get your troopers ready to move out. I’m going to try and raise the lieutenant on the Toanphone and see exactly where they are.”

“Roger that. I’m on it.”

Rev pulled out the precious Toan communicator, only to see that the alert LED was flashing.

Shit!

He’d forgotten that the communicator was essentially a commercial telephone, not a military comms unit that connected to his PAL.

He checked the caller on the small display. They’d all memorized the Toan numerals. This was the symbol for one, which meant the lieutenant.

He hit the return call button, and before he could announce himself, the lieutenant almost screamed, “Gunny, where the hell have you been?”

“Uh, we got separated. We’re about fourteen hundred meters at two-one-zero from the terminal.”

“I mean, where the hell have you been on the line. Are you in contact now? Can you disengage?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, we’re not in contact, and yes, we can disengage. What’s our new objective?”

In a way, Rev was relieved. Nothing was very promising, but at least the decision was out of his hands.

“We don’t have one. We’re pulling back.”

“Sir?”

“Do you see how many noxes are landing? Do you really want to take them on? We’re on to Cowboy.”

“Cowboy? We’re going to—” Rev started before he cut himself off.

No one really knew how secure the Toanphones were, and if either the Marines or just the battalion was heading to the rally point, then it was best he didn’t let slip just where it was.

“What about the civilians?” Rev asked. From his vantage point, he had a good view of over half of Anastasia. Even though smoke was rising in a dozen places, the city didn’t look too badly damaged yet. But close to two million people lived in the metro area, and it didn’t feel right to leave them like this. If the Naxli moved on them, it would be a slaughter.

“They’ve been given the order to evacuate by the mayor. They’ll be heading up into the Klingmans.”

In other words, in the opposite direction as the military. Maybe that would keep the Naxli’s attention away from them, but Rev had been part of the mission to free human slaves from the enemy, so they might just be making it easier for the Naxli.

“Swansea’s been given the same order,” the lieutenant added.

Rev would much rather head to his hometown right now, where his family was. But he knew his duty.

“Understood.” He glanced to the left, where he assumed the police who’d fired on them were still located. “All defenders?”

“Everyone who can make it. Uh . . . what’s your casualty situation?”

“Tannen’s hit. Friendly fire. But probably mobile.”

“Thank the Mother. Second Platoon got hit hard.”

Rev felt his heart drop. He wanted to ask about Tomiko, but he held back.

“Orinda’s KIA. No hope of resurrection.”

Corporal Orinda was one of the Confed new joins in First Squad. And given the situation, almost any fatal injury for the duration of the fight was probably a permanent death sentence. The main regional resurrection facility was five klicks away at the Naval Hospital in the city.

“So, break off now. We’ll try to link up, but the priority is to get to Cowboy ASAP. We don’t know how long before the noxes kick off their main effort,” the platoon commander continued. “Move out, and keep the damn Toanphone glued to your ear. Grayson out.”

“Rantz! Change of plans!” he shouted.

The squad leader ran over.

“We’re retreating. Heading to Cowboy to regroup.”

“What about the city?” the karnan asked. “We just leaving them?”

“They’ve been ordered to evacuate.”

“That’s bullshit, Gunny. You know that.”

“Yeah, it’s bullshit. But it’s our orders. Turn them around. We move out in sixty seconds.”

A huge explosion erupted from the other side of the terminal. A shock wave rolled across the tarmac.

“Does that look like they’re evacuating?” Rantz snarled, but he wheeled away to get the squad turned around.

Thick dark smoke roiled into the air like an angry demon.

Rev turned away when he remembered the police. “Rantz! Hold up a moment!” he shouted before he started jogging over.

“Cops, I’m coming over!” he shouted, this time to the police.

“Slow down, and hands up,” a voice called to him.

Son of a bitch! Who the hell do you think I am?

But Rev came to a walk and held Pashu and his right arm up in the air. A lone officer stepped out from behind what looked like the mangled remains of an assault craft engine.

He stared suspiciously at Rev for a moment before he said, “OK, you look like a jarhead. What do you want?”

“We’re pulling back.”

“What the fuck? You jarheads are running away?”

Rev almost told the officer to stick it, but he calmed himself. The Naxli were the enemy, not this guy.

“Do you see the waves of noxes coming in? The spaceport is lost. Anastasia is lost. Our best hope is to regroup and let the colonels figure out how we can best hit back at the bastards.”

“Anastasia’s lost?” the officer said, looking over Rev’s shoulder to the city. “There’re more than two million folks there.”

“And they’re evacuating.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. “How do you know this? Our radios don’t work.”

Rev held up his Toanphone. “The noxes can’t jam these. Look, I just wanted to let you know. All the Marines are pulling back, and I didn’t want to leave you hanging. So, you can come with us or stay here. Your choice.”

The police officer turned to someone who was still behind the engine and, in what he thought was too low to hear, said, “The jarhead says the city’s being evacuated. Should we go try and help with that?”

The other voice said, “Lister Heights is supposed to handle that. Our mission is to stay and fight.”

“He says the Marines are leaving, too.”

“What the fuck? So, we’re on our own?”

Rev interrupted the two. “Look, I’m just telling you as a courtesy. But you’ve got to shit or get off the pot. We’re leaving.”

The unseen officer stood, revealing herself. “Is the rest of the division joining you?”

“I don’t know. I just thought I’d offer.”

“And you’re not going to just take off and abandon the planet?”

“This is my home, too. We’re gonna fight.”

The second officer looked at the first for a moment before saying, “Then we’ll come.”

She made a rising motion with her hand, and six more police officers came out from cover.

Rev grunted. He’d thought it would be more. But it didn’t really matter.

“Fall in behind my troopers, and try to keep up. You can bet your bottom credit that this lull won’t last, and the noxes will be coming up our asses right ricky-tick.”

6

The RP was just inside Big Trees Provincial Park, a dense grove of giant redwoods located to the north and midway between Anastasia and Swansea. When he was a child, it had been one of Rev’s favorite places. During the Centaur invasion, Rev had fought one major battle and several skirmishes within the park’s boundaries, so it had taken on a different emotional connection. The question for him now was if they were about to have another battle among the huge trees.

They had to make it to the RP first, though. The park was about sixty klicks from the spaceport. They had to pass through the edges of Anastasia’s industrial area, past McAnders Park, and then through the upper-class neighborhood of Star Ranch, with its sprawling hanto-mansions, before they reached the agricultural areas that made up most of the intervening land. Sixty klicks was an easy hump for troopers in PALs. It would be quite a haul for the cops.

There was also the consideration that the police auxiliaries had on what was essentially riot gear, not full combat armor. Compared to the troopers, they were highly vulnerable. Rev decided that the best way to move was to keep the eight officers in the middle of a loose squad V, with troopers on both sides of them.

One advantage of having the cops with them became almost immediately apparent. Although Rev could navigate to any place on the planet, that didn’t mean he knew the best route to take. The eight police officers were from the Heights Division, and this was their home turf. They knew the most covered routes through the city. The Naxli weren’t pressing the battle at the moment as they consolidated on their beachhead to the northeast of the city, but they weren’t just standing by, either. The scattered sounds of fighting were proof enough of that.

The cops directed them through a maze of mostly intact warehouses. The major sign of the battle was a downed Navy Shrike fighter. Rev had them stop long enough to check for the pilot, but there wasn’t any sign of them. Hopefully, they managed to eject before the fighter crashed.

They made steady but frustratingly slow progress through the area. Rev and the troopers could make much better time on their own, but he wasn’t going to abandon the cops.

As they reached Lilac Parkway, Rev caught a glimpse of the top of the Safe Harbor War Dead Memorial peeking over the trees, almost a klick away.

“I wonder if there’s enough room left on that for all the new names,” he said, feeling the weight of what was happening sink in.

<Your job is to make sure there doesn’t have to be that much more room.>

Rev knew his battle buddy was right. He couldn’t let himself fall into a defeatist trap, but he couldn’t help but keep glancing at the memorial until they got too low and it was lost from his view.

Lilac Parkway was lined with small shops, a commercial strip separating the industrial area from the residential neighborhood that stretched out to the west. With four lanes of traffic, it was large enough to be a danger area, so, despite the need for speed, Rev had Rantz send across one team first, while the others covered them.

The team had just made it into the fuel cell station when a voice called out, “Marines!” from inside the station’s mini-mart. A moment later, a single Marine in a PAL-3 stepped out, his M-51’s muzzle aimed at the ground.

With a PAL-3, Rev knew he was from an infantry battalion.

Randigold looked back to Rev, who signed that she should secure the area.

Rev hurried across the parkway and up to the Marine, who he saw was a corporal.

“We’re sure glad to see you,” the NCO said.

“Who’s we?”

The corporal turned around and motioned to the mini-mart. Three more Marines stepped out.

“Corporal Nichols, Fox Two-Nine. We’re an OP but kinda got separated from our unit, and we don’t know what the hell’s going on.”

It wasn’t supposed to happen, but small units and individuals did get detached from their larger units, especially when combat displays were jammed. That wasn’t what grabbed Rev’s attention, though.

“Two-Nine? You guys deployed four days ago,” Rev said. “I saw you guys mount out for the spaceport.”

“We were supposed to, Gunny, but our ride had a drive flux or some shit. We sat on our asses on the tarmac until the damn noxes decided to come.”

“You’re Fox. Do you know PFC Pelletier from Echo?”

The corporal obviously hadn’t expected the question, and he cautiously said, “Pelletier? No, Gunny. I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” one of the other Marines, a lance corporal, said. “Kat. Kat P. Look at the gunny’s name.”

The corporal glanced at the nameplate attached to Rev’s PAL-HX’s carapace, then at his IBHU. “Oh, shit. Her. Yeah, I know who she is. And who you are.”

“Do you know where Echo is now?”

“Sorry, Gunny. I don’t even know where’s Fox.”

Rev had been surprised to find out that 2/9 had never left Safe Harbor. That meant that Kat was out here somewhere. It shouldn’t make a difference. It wouldn’t change the platoon’s mission. But from an emotional level, yes, it wasn’t quite the same.

“Uh . . . do you know where Fox is?” the corporal asked hopefully.

“Not exactly, no. But they’ll be retreating now, back to the RP. Everyone is.”

“The RP?” the corporal asked, and Rev could see the slight flicker as his helmet display popped up what looked like a map. After a moment, the corporal asked, “Should we go there, too?”

“Those are the orders.”

The corporal turned back to his three Marines. The route to the RP was probably clear for the moment, but that could change quickly. And if it did, a single fire team might find the going tough.

“You come with us, though. We’ll get you back to Fox.”

“Aye-aye, Gunny,” the corporal quickly said, the relief evident in his voice.

“We’ve got a few cops coming along for the ride. Why don’t you take your team and follow behind them as our rear security?”

Rev motioned for the rest of the patrol to cross the parkway, and within a couple of minutes, they were moving out again, this time with four more personnel. They pushed into the Star Ranch neighborhood. It was eerily quiet. Amidst the stately homes and equally stately trees, their view of the city at large was blocked. With limited lines of sight, it was as if nothing was wrong, that there weren’t tens of thousands of Naxli fighters just ten klicks away. Even the sounds of fighting were muted as if this was a different universe.

It wasn’t entirely deserted. Several dogs ran out to fences, barking at the intruders on the other side.

“Do the noxes kill dogs?” Corporal Weld asked.

“No reason to,” Rev answered.

No reason not to, except that they’re assholes.

An older, smartly dressed gent stood at his front door as they approached his home. Sergeant Conway, the senior police officer, went up to talk to the man. Rev was too far away to hear what she was saying, but from her gestures, it was pretty clear that she wanted the man to leave. And it was equally clear that he wasn’t going to budge. After two minutes, Conway came back.

“He’s lived in the house all his life. He didn’t let the Centaurs chase him out, and he’s not going to let the noxes chase him out, either.”

“His choice,” Rev said, as he signaled Randigold, who had point, to move out.

“Good luck, old man. I hope you make it through this OK,” he said quietly, giving the man a half salute.

The civilian came to a position of attention and saluted back.

Two hours and twelve minutes after leaving the spaceport, they left the last neighborhood and stepped out into the agricultural corridor. The land was far more open, with huge tracts of cleared corporate fields. A few small family farms, some in private hands since the First Landing, dotted the commercial spreads, and trees bordered the creeks, but for the most part, the route was pretty exposed. It would be that way for almost twenty-five klicks until they reached the larger patches of forest that led up to the park.

Rev could see groups of Marines scattered across the landscape. He was tempted to call the lieutenant and try and figure out where the rest of the platoon was, but there were two problems with that. The first was that while the Naxli might not be able to jam the Toanphones, they should be able to pick up their use, which would allow them to pinpoint the troopers’ position. The second was that in exposed terrain like that before them, the more dispersed they were, the better. A massed platoon made a much bigger target for the enemy to hit. But even with just his small group, he really didn’t like how exposed they’d be.

“Give me a distance if we skirt the valley and move up along the hills to the northwest,” he told Punch.

<That would add approximately fifty-three kilometers to the distance, depending on the exact route taken.>

Rev considered it. Moving through the hills and the scattered small pockets of towns would give them more cover, but with the police, that would add at least another day. And the lieutenant had said to get to the RP ASAP. By taking the cops with him, he’d already delayed how long it would be before they got there.

There really wasn’t much of a choice. He signaled Rantz and Randigold to come over.

“I guess I never realized exactly how open the valley is here, but we have to cross it. How’re you doing, Eth? Still alert?”

“No problems on my end. I’m good to go.”

In a normal infantry unit, the point Marine would be switched out every two hours or so. But as an IBHU, Randigold had the best reflexes and firepower to react to any threat.

“OK, then. You’re still on point. See that creek ahead?”

From their position, a field sloped gently down the hill toward a tree-lined creek bed about nine hundred meters away. The stream meandered in a slight north-northwest direction for almost fifteen klicks, according to Rev’s internal map. He didn’t know if he wanted to be diverted that far, but they could use the cover for at least half of that distance, then cut across to whatever other cover was there.

“Yeah. It’s right there.”

“Head for that, then follow along.”

He turned to Rantz. “Squad V to the creek, then move to a column. Keep the cops in the middle.”

“Got it.”

“How’s Tannen?”

“Hanging in there,” the squad leader said. “He’s juiced up but functional. His shielding on the left side is down, though.”

“What? How?”

“His battle buddy said one of the projectors was taken out by the round that hit him.”

The protective shield was a field created by a web of tiny projectors. Tannen had been hit by a single round, so it was really bad luck that the dart had hit one of the projectors.

“That’s a big-time suck. How serious of a failure is it?”

“About fifteen centimeters with nothing, then a bit more of partial shields until the rest of the projectors take over.”

“So, he’s vulnerable to energy weapons. His PAL skin should still give him kinetic protection. OK, put him right in front of the cops, but keep an eye on him.”

“Roger that.”

“Then let’s move out. We need to push the cops as much as they can take.”

The two nodded and moved back in position. Within a minute, the patrol, for lack of a better term, left the cover of the neighborhood and was crossing a field of knee-high grain of some sort.

Rev didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t ask Punch. He didn’t want to think of the damage they were doing by trampling it.

Geeze, Reverent. I think there’s more to worry about than crushing some damn stalks of grain.

Still, he regretted each step, his big PAL’s sabatons driving the crops into the dirt.

Rev’s nerves had been on high alert as they moved through the city. His warrior self had been simmering, keeping just under the surface. But now, it was much worse. He felt more than merely exposed. The Naxli didn’t make as much use of artillery as a human military would, but they did love their snipers, and they seemed to have a maximum effective range of over four klicks.

They also had aircraft. Either one could wreak havoc on the patrol.

He felt that there was a big target painted across his back. The cops must have sensed it, too. They picked up the pace as the patrol pushed toward the trees. But they made it to the tree line without incident and shifted to a column. The creek itself was barely a trickle at this time of year.

Rev signaled for Randigold to cross to the other side. That way, they had the trees providing at least some degree of concealment from the direction of the city. It wouldn’t do much from orbital observation, but hopefully, they were a small enough unit not to attract much attention for the moment.

They made good time forging ahead until the creek started to veer to the right more, away from their course. Rev kept going a little longer to where a small forested area appeared across the fields. He wasn’t sure what was on the other side, but he couldn’t afford to go that far off course.

He signaled for a five-minute break to let the police catch their breath. He wanted to cross the field as quickly as possible once they left the tree line.

“Squad V again?” Over-sergeant Rantz asked.

Crossing a danger area could be done in several ways. The SOP for a smaller one would be to send a team to the other side for security, then send the main body over one at a time. But in this case, the danger area was six hundred meters across, and Rev knew that the enemy was behind him. Time was also of the essence.

A column would make a smaller footprint, but a V would minimize the amount of time that the entire patrol was exposed.

“Do it.”

Rantz took a moment to get everyone in position, and Rev gave the order to move out at the double time.

He wasn’t sure what the crop in this field was. At about half-a meter high, the dense plants didn’t do much to slow down the troopers as they crossed the field, but the cops were getting tripped up. Several went down hard, and Rev had to slow the entire unit to keep from outpacing them.

Rev turned to yell at the cops to speed up when, out of nowhere, the field around them erupted into a maelstrom of chaos. A shock wave lifted Rev off his feet and flung him to his back. He hit hard, triggering the impact foam inside his PAL. His first reaction was to hug the ground, but more explosions landed around him, and shrapnel pinged off his back.

They’ve got us locked in.

Which meant they had to get out of there.

Rev struggled to his feet and shouted for everyone to get out of the impact area, when another blast sent him to his knees. He got back up and started running ahead.

At least a dozen rounds landed before the salvo ceased, and silence came over the area. Dust started to settle, and Rev came to a stop and did a quick head count. He quickly realized that while most of the troopers were on their feet, none of the police officers were standing.

“Weld, Nezev, with me. Rantz, get everyone else into the trees.”

The three rushed back to where they were initially hit and found an abattoir. The crops had been cleared by the impacts, revealing the scene. The six police officers, with their lack of armor, had been chewed up. Two legs, still attached to each other, were all that was left of one of the cops. Rev couldn’t see the rest of the body. The others were mangled but somewhat intact.

“Gunny, this one’s alive,” Nezev said, pointing to the cop on the far right.

Rev didn’t know what had hit them, but there was no doubt that they’d been spotted and targeted. Which meant a second salvo could be incoming. They had to get out of there.

“Pick him up, and let’s go!” he ordered.

He felt a twinge of guilt in leaving the dead there, but they had to get to where they could assess the situation.

The three started sprinting to rejoin the rest, when Rantz came running back. “We’re missing Tannen!” he shouted.

“Take the cop,” Rev told Nezev.

He and Weld spread out with Rantz to find the lance corporal.

The Marine was prone on the ground outside the main area of crushed crops. His PAL was twisted and torn around where he’d been shot before. Rev had been sure that the PFC wouldn’t be particularly vulnerable to shrapnel. Evidently, he was wrong on that.

Tannen was alive but barely conscious.

Rev pulled out his jack cable and inserted it into Tannen’s PAL’s socket.

“Tell me what’s going on, Punch.”

<There’s no connection.>

Rev pulled it out and put it back in again.

<Still nothing.>

“Get him out of this. Emergency molt,” he ordered as he turned the Marine over onto his belly.

Rantz hit the emergency molt. It took a moment—an eternity for Rev as he feared it wouldn’t work—before the back split open. He and Rantz pulled Tannen out. Blood gushed from torn flesh across the PFC’s side. Rev popped his cable into Tannen’s neck jack.

<There’s extensive damage and bleeding.>

I can see that, Punch.

“Is he going to make it?”

<I can’t tell. There is significant medinano activity to close off the bleeding. Bioreadings indicate Lance Corporal Tannen is in shock.>

The sounds of more explosions reached them, and the three jerked their heads up in alarm. But the impact was on the other side of the tree line they’d left.

“We could be next again,” Weld said.

“What the hell did they hit us with?” Rantz asked.

It was a good question, one that Rev couldn’t answer. But in a sense, it didn’t matter. He knew that Tannen should be kept quiet to give his nanos the best shot at limiting the bleeding, but if Weld was right and they were targeted again, it wouldn’t make much difference if it was arty or naval gunfire.

Rev picked up Tannen and started running for the trees, the other two right on his ass.

* * *

The bombardment continued, even if Rev and his patrol weren’t hit again. But dozens of rounds hit the area. Rev had to assume that each round targeted Marines, although he didn’t know that for sure.

“They know we’ve exfiltrated from the city, and they know where we are. Are we leading them to the RP?”

<This could be simple harassment fire.>

“Pretty effective harassment,” Rev said as he glanced behind him where one of the infantry Marines was carrying the wounded cop.

<You are correct, though, in that they know where we are and in what direction we’re traveling.>

“So, that still leaves the question if we’re leading them to the RP.”

<That would be a possibility.>

Great. So, what the hell do I do now?

He looked at the Toanphone in his right hand. And as if it could sense his attention, it took that moment to flash the small orange indicator.

He almost dropped the phone in surprise, wondering if something was going wrong with it before he remembered that for the Toan, orange was the human green.

“This is Gunny Pelletier.”

“Gunny, what’s your situation?” the lieutenant asked.

“Uh . . . we were hit with arty or something. We lost five cops—”

“Cops? What cops?”

“Oh, we picked up six of them when we left the spaceport. We’ve got one of them WIA along with Tannen, and—”

“Tannen? What’s his status?”

Rev stopped. He should have started with a formal sitrep, not just a casual conversation. But the lieutenant had asked him a direct question.

“Unconscious and shocky, so his blood pressure is low, but otherwise, his vitals are steady. He’s lost a lot of blood, but his battle buddy gives him a good prognosis if he can get medical care.”

“What does Doc say?”

“Doc Rink? He’s not with us. He was with First Squad.”

There was a moment of silence, then the lieutenant said, “Shit. I thought he was with you. He’s not here. OK, no matter. What’s your location? Blue-Alpine-Four.”

Rev’s mind was a little muddled, but Punch said, <Cypher locked.>

“Uh . . .” He looked around and confirmed with his internal navigation. “Cypher: Six-four-four, zero-eight-two. End Cypher. Send.”

There was a single tone, and the coordinates were sent to the lieutenant. The Toanphones may or may not be open to listening in by the Naxli, but with millions of potential solutions, the random cypher code should be impenetrable when fewer than eight hundred characters were sent.

There was a pause, then the lieutenant said, “OK, that’s great.”

Which surprised Rev. He knew they were behind the rest of them, and they’d been told to get to the RP ASAP.

“Do you have the coordinates of SC-104?”

Rev didn’t know what SC-104 was until Punch told him.

After the Centaur invasion, many of the Marine units had scattered through the countryside to promulgate the fight against the enemy. One of the problems that arose was how to resupply the Marines with ammo, power, and supplies. The answer was to preposition warfighting gear throughout the area in case there was another invasion.

SC-104 was one of the caches.

“Yes, sir. I have it.”

“I’ve got you about twenty klicks away from it. I want you to go there.”

“Sir? And do what?”

There was another long pause, and Rev thought for a moment that the Naxli had finally figured out how to jam the Toanphones.

“Cypher: Rocky-Two-Orange.”

<Cypher Locked.>

“Look, Gunny. I was part of the prepositioning. The locations of the caches are known by too many people. If the Naxli find them, then we’re going to be up shit creek without a paddle. We’re going to need those supplies, so I want you to get to the cache and move what you can to someplace else.”

There was something about the way he said, “I want you to . . .” that caught Rev’s attention.

“The skipper is ordering this?”

“No. I am.”

Rev didn’t know what to do. His previous orders were to get to the RP as soon as possible, and now he was being ordered to go move supplies?

“Sir, I’m confused. I thought we were supposed to get back ASAP. And move them? To where?”

“Gunny, I’m telling you . . . no, this is a direct order. Get the cache moved. Someplace secure.”

Rev held the Toanphone away from his helmet and stared at it for a moment as if it were radioactive. The order felt wrong to him. And, truth be told, the lieutenant wasn’t Direct Combat, so his experience was limited.

Even with the phone held at arm’s length, Rev could still hear. “And you don’t have much time. The first waves of the noxes have organized and are moving into the city. They’ll be coming this way next.”

All the more reason to link up.

“Gunny? Are you still there?”

Make a decision, Reverent.

He had to say no. This wasn’t right.

He brought the Toanphone back to his helmet’s speaker, but the second he opened his mouth, years of military discipline kicked in.

“Aye-aye, sir. We’re on our way.”

He signaled the unit to a stop so he could change their route.

What the hell have I just done?

* * *

SC-104 was at the edge of the agricultural area and not that far out of their way. They reached it within two hours. The cache was located in a nondescript bunker just off a mid-level road big enough for supply trucks but not on a major thoroughfare. A rundown-looking one-room building hid the bunker from casual eyes.

The lieutenant came back with an access code, which opened the bunker itself, but then Rev was faced with two decisions: what to take out and where to take it.

Over-sergeant Rantz, who was clearly upset with the orders, wanted to move the minimum so that they could get back to the RP, but while Rev was second-guessing his decision, if they were going to do it, he wanted it to be worth it.

Tannen and the cop had both stabilized, so they were left outside the building, while most of the troopers and the four infantry Marines started to haul out ammunition, powerpacks, cooling packs, and combat rats. He just didn’t have the personnel to move everything.

But take them where?

He did a quick consultation with Punch, and from the topographical data, picked two potential spots, both along a meandering creek about four hundred meters away through the scrub. He left Rantz in charge of bringing up the supplies while he jogged over. The first spot was a no-go. Someone had cleared the scrub, probably to use the ground for crops, and it was exposed. The second spot, two hundred meters upstream where the creek came out of the hills, was much better. The water had spread out into a wide marsh dotted with bushes and trees that clung to whatever ground they could. Rev tried to check the depth, but the boggy ground sucked at his feet before he was waist-deep.

Perfect.

Not really, but it was the best he could do in the general area.

He ran back to the cache and gathered the troopers. Once they had the largest load they could carry, he led them to the spot.

“This is it. I want everything far enough into the water to be hidden but not too scattered. We may need to get everything out in a hurry. Ammunition closer to dry ground, everything else farther out.”

He left Weld in charge of the site, then hurried everyone back to where they became giant leafcutter ants, carrying their loads from the cache to the water, then running back for another load.

A Marine in a PAL could carry a heavy weight, but it was an extensive cache. Rev was very aware of the time ticking down, and when Corporal Weld told him they’d about filled up the small marshy area, he knew they were done. There were still plenty of combat supplies back at the cache if the Marines went there, but there was at least some in the new location.

“That’s it. Back to the cache. I want everyone back to a full combat load and full powerpack. We move out in five.”

Randigold sidled up to him. “We didn’t get many Morays,” she noted.

“Not as much twenty millimeter as I’d hoped for, either.”

He’d focused on the more common ammunition. There just weren’t that many IBHUs around.

“Maybe another load? On the way out?” she asked. “There’s still an empty spot by that tilted tree there.”

“OK. One more load. But that’s it, Eth.”

They ran back to the cache to pick up their two WIAs.

When Rev had said one more load, he’d meant whatever Eth could carry. But she’d shanghaied two of the infantry Marines, one to carry a case of Morays, one to carry a case of twenty-millimeter shells.

He let it go. As an IBHU, she couldn’t carry as much as a normal Marine, so it made sense.

“Make sure they—” he started to say when she suddenly brought up Cruella de Vil and fired her beamer.

“What the hell?” Rev said as he spun around, just in time to see a drone of some sort crash into a tree with a shower of sparks, then tumble to the ground.

Rev and several others ran forward, but the thing was dead.

“Think it saw us?” Rantz asked as he toed it, turning it over.

“Yeah, I do. But what did it see?” Rev asked.

“Eth, what was it doing when you spotted it?” he asked as she walked up to them.

“Coming through the trees. I saw movement, then it turned and headed to us.”

“Good shooting,” Rantz said. “And if it was just coming toward us, maybe it didn’t see what we were doing.”

Rev hoped that was true, but he couldn’t count on it.

If this was all for nothing . . .

But it was what it was. All he could do now was try and link up with the rest of the battalion.

“One last sweep. Make it look like we weren’t here.”

Which was pretty hard to do. PALs weren’t exactly able to move around without leaving signs of their passage.

They did the best they could, and then Rev led them back down the path they’d created. The two Marines dumped their loads where Eth told them, then Rev had everyone tread heavily, leaving an easily seen trail along the marshy area until the water narrowed back to a creek at the edge of the farmland.

This diversion had cost them just over two hours, and Rev knew the Naxli hadn’t been wasting that time.

He just hoped the delay wouldn’t come around to bite them in the ass.

7

Rev and the rest got to the RP just as the Marines were preparing to leave. Brigadier General Raymier, the base commander, was the senior Marine on the continent. She had more than a thousand Ninety-nines and general support Marines who belonged to her, then another fifteen hundred division Marines, most from 2/9, who she’d folded into her command. The four hundred First Human Expeditionary Battalion troopers were under the command of the Home Guard, but considering the situation, the battalion shifted under her command as well.

At close to three thousand strong, the force represented significant combat power. But at least thirty thousand Naxli had landed at or around Anastasia. Even if all three thousand had been Direct Combat Marines, the overwhelming numbers of the enemy would have made the situation dire.

The general decided that she could not make a concerted stand against the Naxli. They’d probably just bypass a fortified position, letting orbital guns pound it while the ground troops continued to seize territory. And if they did decide to attack, they had the personnel to persevere.

Instead, she’d dusted off one of the contingency plans should the planet be invaded again. They’d be conducting a mobile defense, using maneuver and their familiarity with the ground to hit the Naxli without becoming decisively engaged. That would force the enemy to spread their units out, while the humans could hit where and when they wanted, gaining local superiority.

The problem with the contingency plan, though, was that it was drawn up assuming a full Marine division on the ground, along with the police auxiliaries and Marine reserve units. But it was the best option they had.

They had to remain extremely mobile and alert to the enemy’s movements. They’d want to trap the humans into a static fight, and with their numbers, it wouldn’t be that hard to lay a trap. Get pinned down, and it would be game over.

“We need to hold them off long enough and attrite their forces for when the reinforcements arrive,” the lieutenant told him as they prepared to move out.

“They’re coming? When’s their ETA?”

“No word yet, but they have to come, right?”

Rev didn’t answer. They knew the home system was being hit, and they’d take priority. For all they knew, New Mars and other Union planets were under attack. Safe Harbor could be way down the priority list.

He hoped they’d be getting help, but he had to assume that they were on their own.

* * *

From under his tarnkappe, which hid him from prying Naxli eyes, Rev glassed the edge of the farm below. An ad hoc platoon of Ninety-nines was digging in, their equipment setting up a line of fighting holes at the back end of a shallow valley that cut into the hills. The Ninety-nines’ fighting positions were by the book, exactly the right distance apart, with each providing interlocking fires covering the fields to their front. With an infantry platoon’s T/E weapons, they’d be able to cover out over about three klicks, or about two-thirds the length of the valley. It was as if they were in a natural fortification, with rocky walls protecting their flanks.

But the position was also a trap, something an astute observer would be able to figure out. With their backs to the rocky high ground, they were effectively in a cul-de-sac. The only way out would be to retreat up the slope, where they’d be sitting ducks.

It wasn’t that the Ninety-nines had made a mistake with the position. All of them were volunteers for the mission, and they were exactly where they were ordered to be.

Rev had been in some tough spots during his career, but he’d never been used as bait. And that’s what the Marines down there were.

The small valley, with high ground on three sides, might be a trap for the Marines, but it could also be a trap for the Naxli. If they took the bait, that was.

First Platoon and a team from 2/9’s Weapons Platoon were ensconced in the rocks above the Ninety-nines. Second Platoon and Echo—Kat’s company—were on the high ground to the north, and Third Platoon, the Breel, and Kilo were on the high ground to the south. Five klicks behind them, in a sheltered canyon, the battalion’s 88-millimeter mortar section would rain shells down on the enemy. That made the entire valley a kill sack. If the Naxli took the bait, they could be cut to shreds. The ambush force could hit the enemy and then pull back out of the line of fire if necessary. That was the ambush force, not the bait.

“They got some big ones, the bastards,” Hussein said.

“Let’s just hope most of them get out of there in one piece.”

“That’s up to us to give them cover now, isn’t it? If we do our job, they’ll have no trouble.”

“Speaking of which, how did the M-62’s look?”

“Like badasses,” Hussein said. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of them.”

Rev had always been with the Raiders or the special battalions, and he’d almost forgotten just how much firepower an infantry battalion carried. Every Weapons Company had a heavy gun platoon with three M-62 teams. They were big, 30-millimeter machine guns, in theory not much different than machine guns from centuries gone by. But they were much, much better. In a normal combat mission, they fired alternating anti-armor and personnel rounds. The anti-armor rounds had a rocket assist—a more lethal version of the tiny assist on an M-51 dart. The anti-personnel round detonated with a shower of shrapnel. That round didn’t have the ECR of a 40-millimeter grenade, but the M-62 could put out six hundred rounds per minute of sustained fire.

That was also a weakness of the weapon—and why none of Rev’s units had it in their T/Es. That was a lot of ammunition, even jacketless ammunition, and an infantry battalion didn’t have the transportation assets of an artillery unit. It wasn’t just the ammunition—the guns themselves were heavy, normally emplaced with air or wheeled assets. With lifters, the gun teams could maneuver the guns, but mass was mass. Once the teams got them moving, it took a lot of effort to change directions or even just come to a stop.

During their operations order, they were told that if enough Naxli survived to launch a credible assault on the ambush forces, forcing a retreat, then the two guns would probably have to be abandoned. It would be a serious loss, but the general hoped that just engaging with them would let the Naxli know they weren’t going to have it easy and that the defenders had a bite to them. It might make them a little more cautious and slow them down a bit.

Rev hoped it never came to that. With the M-62s, the IBHUs and karnans, the Moray II and Mantis missile teams, and all of the riflemen, they should be able to inflict a tremendous amount of damage upon the enemy. Hopefully, it would be enough to wipe them out, giving the Ninety-nines enough time to retreat and for the teams to maneuver their guns off the line before more Naxli could arrive.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Hussein asked.

“I don’t know, Hus-man. We don’t know how good their surveillance is. They might have spotted us getting into position. And if their surveillance is crap, then they might not see the Ninety-nines down there.”

“We want them good enough, but not too good.”

“And even if they do spot the bait, is that a big enough target for enough noxes to come to make it worthwhile?”

“Pretty negative there. What’s your gut say?” Hussein asked.

Rev looked out across the valley to where it opened up to the vast farms that stretched across the continent’s agricultural heartland.

“They’re coming in. And we’ll kill a shitload of them. After that? Who knows?”

“If we kill a shitload, as you say, then we win, right?”

“There’s a lot more of them out there, Hus-man. And even if we win this one engagement, the rest will be coming after us, no matter if we spread out to the winds.” He glassed the Ninety-nines one more time, then said, “I should check in with the others. I can’t spend all my time with you and First Squad.”

“Oh, we know we’re your favorites,” he said with a smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell.”

“Of course, you’re my favorite, Hus-man. Always have been. Just don’t let Miko know.”

He mimed kissing his hand through his face shield, then blew the kiss at his friend. Hussein acted like he was catching it, then held it to his heart.

“It’s our special secret,” the staff sergeant said.

Rev finally broke and laughed. “Just keep your head down, Hus-man.”

“You, too,” Hussein said before Rev moved on to the next trooper.

* * *

It wasn’t until the next day that they had their first sign of the enemy. The first visual sighting, that is. Smoke rose from the northwest, where Anastasia was. but they’d had no sightings, even of shuttles descending from orbit.

Neither were there any sounds of combat from the other ambushes being set up. Only one was close enough for them to potentially hear, but things were unnaturally quiet.

While waiting was always tough, it gave the 2/9 comms team the time to lay wire so that they had comms. The Toanphones had only been issued to the First Human, so there had been some redistribution of the precious items. Rev had reluctantly given his up to the Kilo Company commander, and now he felt a little naked. But with the wire 2/9 laid down, and shortly before noon, Third Platoon reported a Naxli drone making its way down the valley. Like most of the enemy’s drones, they were not particularly stealthy. The Naxli didn’t seem to care if their surveillance units were spotted. It was as if they were saying, “Yeah, we see you, and we’re coming.”

Rev strained to spot it, but it was still too far away. The Ninety-nines wouldn’t even know it was there. The comms team hadn’t been able to run wire to them.

But six minutes later, as Rev watched, the Marines opened up with a Hellborer. The pulse hit the drone, still a klick out, and dropped it in a flash of sparks and fire.

The lieutenant positioned with Yancey and Third Squad, so Rev had moved to Fourth and Strap. “They know we’ve got Marines here. Now, the question is if they’re going to bite,” the staff sergeant said.

They got their answer less than an hour later when they spotted the first Naxli at the far end of their little cul-de-sac. Sixteen of them appeared, making no effort to hide themselves. But they weren’t advancing, either, which was a show of caution that Naxli rarely exhibited.

“Come on in, boys,” Strap muttered.

Rev had been going over the order again with the squad leader and had been just about to move on to check on one of the M-62 teams, but with the Naxli in sight, he didn’t want to risk being spotted. The tarnkappes were great with stationary objects but not nearly so good at concealing objects in motion.

There was a single shot from below, and a moment later, one of the Naxli fell. Rev couldn’t see the details that well, but it looked like the others were somewhat surprised. They pulled their fallen comrade back and out of sight.

“By the Mother, that’s some shot,” Strap said. “That’s got to be six klicks if it’s a meter.”

Rev looked down again. One of the Ninety-nines was being congratulated. Rightfully so, too. Ninety-nines weren’t given sniper training. The Marine Corps M-102 Nellis sniper rifle was a technological marvel, but it still took a skilled marksman to use it. Yet somehow, an untrained marksman had just hit a shot that would make any HOG proud.

“What are the odds for that shot?” Rev asked.

<Given the situation and the fact that isn’t a trained sniper down there, something in the range of eight percent.>

“Wow.”

<But that assumes that the shooter hasn’t had other training. He could have been a sport shooter, and that would skew the odds.>

“Punch said he could have been a sport shooter before he became a Marine.”

“Probably some mob assassin,” Strap said. “They’ve got skills.”

Rev rolled his eyes. It was true that a significant percentage of Ninety-nines had been hardened criminals, but Strap needed to stop watching so many crime holovids.

“Whoever he is, he might have just set this in motion. The noxes don’t take kindly to getting their knuckles rapped,” Rev said.

Six minutes after the shot, the first indirect fire hit the Ninety-nines—small mortars, from the looks of it.

Luckily, the same delay that had let the ambush force lay wire had given the Marines below time to construct overhead cover. And one thing the General Support Marines could do was build things.

More than a few rounds made direct hits on the fighting positions, but as far as Rev could tell, none suffered significant damage. The Naxli might have figured that out, too, because, after a few minutes, the barrage ceased.

“And here we go,” Rev said a moment later. “It’s on.”

A company-sized unit of Naxli started moving into the valley. Naxli usually advanced on line, but these were hugging the north side, using the slopes to give them some cover. This showed unusual caution, but either human tactics were rubbing off on them, losing one of their kind to a sniper, or the fact that the valley was mostly manicured crops that offered little cover had knocked some sense into them.

Rev hoped they hadn’t gotten too tactical. The smart thing to do would be to bypass the Marines. There weren’t enough of them to be much of a threat, so leaving them be for the moment wouldn’t be a significant risk. But if the Naxli had to take the defenders out, the smart thing to do would be to retreat up the line of hills, go into the heights, then make their way to the valley and hit the Marines from above.

The general had counted on the fact that the arrogance of the Naxli would eliminate the first option and that the time it would take for the second option would eliminate it. From the looks of it, she was right both times.

The Naxli maneuvered forward a klick, and just when they would lose the protection of the hillside, they went prone.

“What the hell?” Strap said. But when a larger unit of Naxli started moving forward, it became clear. “By the Mother, that’s a base of fire.”

Rev was just as shocked as he was. He was continually amazed that the concept of a base of fire—a unit taking the target under fire to cover a maneuvering unit—seemed so foreign to the other races. It was a basic feature of human conflict, something so logical that its use went back to prehistory.

It wasn’t just the Naxli. The Kanters didn’t use a base of fire. They just relied on mass charges to overrun an enemy. The Niklith hadn’t shown any indication that they used them, either. The Uauii preferred to stand off and use distance weapons, but that didn’t count as they weren’t big on actually assaulting an objective. Only the Breel occasionally used what could be considered a base of fire, and then it was usually almost an afterthought.

So, if the Naxli were setting up a base of fire—and it sure looked like it—this was something new. And it was a pretty good indication that they were adjusting to their human enemies.

And that meant that maybe they couldn’t assume the Naxli would react to something as they had been doing since their first battle with them.

“Make sure you’re keeping recordings of this. And if there’s any hiccup in the jamming, get it out to whatever authority you can.”

<Roger that.>

“Gunny, the captain wants to remind you that it’s Third Platoon that’ll set off the ambush,” Red Apprentice Kzing, who was monitoring the landline from his fighting position just to the right of them, said.

“Got it,” Rev said.

“Why is the skipper telling you that?” Strap asked.

Rev understood what he was getting at. “I’m sure he told the lieutenant first.”

He hoped the captain had, at least. As a fellow IBHU, and Direct Combat Marine, the captain often went right to him for various matters, bypassing the lieutenant.

Captain White Eagle was a good company commander, in Rev’s opinion. But even beyond his habit of bypassing the platoon commander, he had a tendency to get down into the weeds at times. He didn’t need to be calling up the platoon like that. Everyone knew he’d kick off the engagement with Third Platoon. It had been very clear in the operations order. The rest of the company, the infantry, the M-62s, and the Breel would react off of that.

Strap let it go, and they settled in to watch the Naxli advance. More and more appeared, giving Rev hope that they could decisively engage them.

“How many are there?”

<Three hundred and three, not counting the base of fire,> Punch said.

It wasn’t as accurate as that. His battle buddy was freezing snapshots of Rev’s vision, then counting the bodies that were visible.

The leading edge of the advance was using a lone agricultural water station and whatever cover they could find, but that was a lot of bodies. The sniper started firing again as the Naxli exposed themselves. One fell with the first shot.

<Three hundred and two,> Punch said with a deadpan voice.

“Are you trying to be funny?”

<I don’t have to try.>

Rev shook his head. Two more Naxli fell before the sniper missed with a shot. Then three more fell in quick succession. Punch didn’t change his numbers this time.

Now that they were committed, the Naxli weren’t going to let a lone sniper slow them down. The leading fighters surged forward, and then the base of fire opened up.

The Ninety-nines had M-49s and M-103s. The forty-millimeter grenade launchers opened up. The first volley hit short of the leading Naxli, but the second struck among them. Several of the enemy were taken down.

A Naxli rocket took off from the base of fire and streaked across the valley. There was a small explosion just short of the Marine line as one of the close-in defense bots picked up the rocket and sent a small swarm of mini-drones to intercept it.

But the Naxli had played this game before. A second rocket was fired along the same trajectory an instant later, and with the bot reloading, this one hit true, destroying one of the fighting positions.

Rev could see at least one mangled Marine body below him.

It wasn’t the sniper, though, who kept up a steady, measured rain of death.

By now, the assaulting force was also engaging, adding to the torrent of incoming. But the Marines weren’t faltering. Their fighting positions were well-built, and while they were taking casualties, they were giving better than they were receiving.

At least for the moment. As the Naxli closed the distance, they were having much more effect on the defenders. Marines were falling under the onslaught.

“Come on, Skipper,” Strap muttered. “They’re taking too much damage.”

Enough of the assaulting force was well within the kill sack, and Rev waited for Third Platoon to kick it off. It had to be any second now.

<Five hundred and twenty-eight.>

What?

Rev looked up. A second wave was coming in. He’d been so focused on what was going on closer in that even if they were in his sight, he hadn’t noticed them. But First Platoon would have seen them approach, so that was why the captain was holding off.

“Ah, shit,” Strap said.

Rev knew he’d just seen the second wave.

“More targets for us,” he said.

“While our Marines get overrun.”

With the second wave, the numbers of Naxli were about equal to the numbers of humans. And the human’s position on the high ground gave them a distinct advantage. The general wanted more Naxli sucked into the trap, but at what cost? The Ninety-nines couldn’t hold out much longer.

“I think the sniper’s been hit,” Strap said.

“When was the last round fired?” Rev asked Punch.

<Forty-two seconds ago.>

“Maybe he’s displacing,” Rev told the staff sergeant.

But he knew Strap was right. The Marines below were in prepared positions. The sniper wouldn’t just leave his or her position while under intense incoming.

<Six hundred and eighteen.>

More Naxli were entering the valley, a third wave. And as the second wave added their firepower, the Marine line was getting peppered.

And more Naxli were coming into view. Not all were joining the assault. Most looked to be heading northeast across the larger valley . . . toward Swansea and points north.

But Rev had to put Swansea out of his mind. There were more immediate concerns. His warrior self was anxious, ready to engage, but he felt helpless. Just two hundred meters below, Marines were dying, and here he was, huddled under a tarnkappe when he had Pashu, a weapon that could wreak havoc among the enemy. And still, the captain held off, waiting for more Naxli to step into the trap.

<Seven hundred and sixty.>

That’s got to be enough. Come on, skipper.

Beside him, he could feel Strap’s tarnkappe move as he nervously shifted his position.

“Steady, Strap.”

“There aren’t going to be any Marines left in another couple of minutes!” he hissed.

This was a big reason why Rev had turned down the CO’s offer to pursue a commission. The captain was looking at the big picture. The more Naxli in the kill sack, the fewer there would be to fight later, which could save human lives in the long run. But that was sacrificing the Ninety-nine volunteers.

Rev’s strategic mind understood the captain’s decisions, but his human side was screaming at their deaths.

And right then, to both of their reliefs, the north high ground erupted in fire, raking the second two waves of Naxli below.

Immediately, Third Platoon, the M-62s, and one of the Fox platoons engaged their area of responsibility, which was where the first wave was only 250 meters from the Marine line.

The M-62s opened up, singing to each other their deadly song, one giving the call, the other the answer, as they created a curtain of rounds that tore apart the front ranks of the assault and stopped them in their tracks. Rev fired Pashu’s twenty-millimeter, targeting groups and cutting down half a dozen before the Naxli were able to react by taking cover and shifting their fire to those on the high ground. Rounds started impacting all around Rev and Strap, but Rev barely noticed. The relief of finally being able to engage was too strong.

Rev kept to his twenties. The Mantis and Moray IIs were much more effective against deployed infantry than his Morays, and his beamer had to recharge every four or five seconds. Their goal now was to pour such a high volume of fire that the Naxli couldn’t react fast enough.

Forty seconds after the first shots were fired, the 88s started to land. The mortar platoon had twenty-four rounds for the mission. Hopefully, they’d do some damage.

For a few moments, the Naxli base of fire was able to target Third Platoon with their rockets. The Naxli weapons weren’t guided missiles. They didn’t have terminal guidance. But they could be very effective. At least a dozen were fired before Third Platoon could silence them.

One of the rockets took out the left-side M-62, though, eliminating the advantage of interlocking fires. But even one M-62 was a devastating weapon. The gunner shifted fire to target specific Naxli.

The devastation inside the kill sack was tremendous. The Naxli had been taken completely by surprise, and within a minute, at least half had been killed. Some tried to rally. A group of about twenty attempted to charge Third Platoon and Kilo high on the south side of the valley, but none managed to get within a hundred meters before being stopped.

<One thousand twenty-millimeter rounds left,> Punch told him.

Crap. Already?

In the excitement of the battle, Rev had lost track of his ammo discipline.

He switched to his beamer, choosing pencil mode. With the Naxli taking cover and the amount of dust and smoke that was beginning to form over the valley, a broader beam might not be effective. Using the pencil beam, he could target individual Naxli.

“Here come the Marines,” Strap said.

He’d let the tarnkappe slide off of his helmet and shoulders and was leaning forward to get a better look at the Ninety-nines.

Rev glanced below. He couldn’t see the entire line, but six were scrambling up the hill below him. One had another’s arm around his shoulders as he helped the other.

“Watch out for friendlies climbing up to us!” he shouted over his loudspeakers.

The Marine dragging the other up the hill looked up at Rev’s shout. Rev had a clear look at his face through his helmet when something hit him in the back, sending him face-first on the ground. He dropped the other Marine, and both slid down a few meters to lie still.

“Shit!” Rev shouted.

To his left, Kzing was immediately moving out of his position and scrambling down the hill.

“Kzing!” Rev yelled, but the corporal was gone.

“Strap, get someone on the landline.”

He bolted to the left and took the position before commencing fire into the valley.

The overall rate of fire, both incoming and outgoing, started to diminish. A huge number of Naxli were dead, and the others were trying to find cover. That left fewer visible targets for the humans to engage.

But there were many, many Naxli still alive. Probably at least a couple of hundred. The general’s plan had worked, better than most combat plans. For once, the Naxli had cooperated and done what the humans wanted them to.

Now, though, the execution was bogging down with the realities of combat. And time wasn’t on their side.

In the distance, there was a shift as Naxli who had been heading northwest started moving toward their small valley. Punch couldn’t get a firm estimate as to the numbers other than <A lot.>

It was clear that if the full body of the Naxli arrived, the humans couldn’t stay. They had to retreat, but nothing was coming over the landline.

The first of the Ninety-nines reached the platoon, including Kzing and one of the two Marines he’d gone down to help. Rev couldn’t see the platoon’s entire frontage, but it didn’t look like many of the Ninety-nines had reached relative safety.

“Respect to the fallen,” Rev said quietly before dropping a Naxli who’d mistakenly thought it had good cover.

A whoosh above made him duck, but it was a single Shrike fighter blasting past his head. It was a Charlie version, an older model that was even being phased out of the Reserves. Rev didn’t know there were any left after the invasion, and he joined the cheers as the Shrike strafed the kill sack. But it didn’t pull up, keeping a low run out into the main valley and firing a full salvo of missiles at the mass of Naxli out there.

It switched to its guns as several enemy missiles reached up to it. The Shrike never faltered, the guns blazing until the moment the first missile hit, sending the fighter tumbling end over end until it crashed, creating a swath of fire that engulfed a good portion of a Naxli unit.

The cheers turned to silence. The Charlies hadn’t been retrofitted for unmanned missions, so that had been a human pilot who’d attacked the enemy head-on.

It was difficult to tell from this distance and with a limited arc of visibility, but over the next ten minutes, it seemed as if more Naxli were orienting toward them. A heavy fusillade of fire from Third Platoon and Kilo Company erupted, but Rev couldn’t see their targets. It pretty much had to be more Naxli.

Evidently, the captain had seen enough. A single blue flare arced out over the small valley. A moment later, Strap looked up from the landline and gave Rev a thumbs up.

From forty meters away, Lieutenant Grayson shouted out, “That’s us. Give it to them!”

“You heard him!” Rev shouted. “Keep their damn heads down!”

Breaking contact was one of the most difficult maneuvers a military unit could perform. Those retreating were extremely vulnerable to a determined enemy. In this case, the two prongs of the ambush along either side were the most vulnerable, so Second Platoon and part of Echo, and Third Platoon and Fox, along with their Weapons Company and Weapons Platoon attachments, were first to disengage and retreat. First Platoon, the last M-62, and the Breel would try and pin down the surviving Naxli and cover the others.

This was what Rev was saving his twenty-millimeter rounds for. His beamer could pick off individual Naxli fighters, but unless another Naxli was right there, the effects were somewhat invisible. The chatter of the twenty was hard to miss. When it took an enemy under fire, they knew it.

But he didn’t have unlimited ammunition. So, it was short, eight and nine-round bursts. He could hear three more IBHUs firing, so he knew Randigold, Cocker, and Nnadi were still with him. The lone M-62 also kept up a steady rate of fire. Coupled with the M-103s and the infantry M-51s, that was still a heavy amount of firepower.

The Naxli were spread out over ten or twelve square kilometers, though. Those furthest away, near the mouth of the valley, were the least threat, but that still left a large area in which the Naxli were taking cover. And they seemed intent on keeping the humans fixed in place until their reinforcements could arrive.

Rev was in full warrior mode. There wasn’t much he could do as platoon sergeant for the moment, so he was acquiring targets and engaging them. Punch was scanning Rev’s field of vision and highlighting targets. Rev shifted to aim in on each one.

He wanted kill shots, but anything would do—an exposed limb, a weapon, a piece of cover behind which was an enemy fighter. A burst of twenty-millimeter rounds tended to keep that individual from offensive actions on their part.

His round count clicked down as he waited for the signal for them to retreat. The plan was that would occur within five minutes, but the time passed, and they were still providing covering fire. Six minutes. Seven. At the far end of the kill sack, more Naxli were rushing forward and adding their firepower against the humans.

He risked a quick look to the left. There were still Marines maneuvering from rock to rock to get over the military crest and in defilade to the Naxli below.

And then he was out of rounds. Without pause, he switched to his beamer. The beamer didn’t have the same effect on all the cover the Naxli were using. He could fire on a rock, and the enemy behind it might not realize it. But the beamer had its advantages. To aim, it was point and fire. No bullet drop, spin, drift, or any of the factors that affected solid rounds.

Every five seconds, Rev fired. Every five seconds, a Naxli was hit. He’d just burnt a hole through an errant leg when a single yellow star cluster exploded.

“Fall back!” the lieutenant shouted.

Rev fired once more, dropping a Naxli fewer than two hundred meters away before he wheeled and started sprinting up the slope. Ahead and to the far right, the Breel platoon, which had taken a position on the military crest, opened fire.

It seemed as if the platoon was running right into the teeth of the Breel fire.

Remember who your allies are, guys.

Without being covered by their tarnkappes, it must have looked like the platoon appeared out of thin air. It didn’t take the enemy long to react. It felt like every Naxli on the planet joined in to cut the troopers down.

Kzing stumbled and fell face-first on the rocks. Rev swooped to the right to grab him by the dead man’s handle, but the Frisian waved him off and got back to his feet.

The M-62 kept firing down at the enemy. The big gun was going to be abandoned, and the gunner had to get out of there. Rev kept expecting him to stop, but he kept covering the retreat.

The first troopers reached the Breel and disappeared over the top. Rev spotted the lieutenant standing right below the military crest, urging the troopers on. At least one round pinged off the platoon commander’s PAL, but he kept himself exposed, refusing to move into defilade.

The M-62 gunner kept going, and Rev realized that he wasn’t going to stop by choice. He started crabbing over to get him when the rounds cut off. He hoped that was because it had run out of ammunition rather than he’d been hit.

The Breel were only fifty meters higher and a hundred to Rev’s right, but it seemed farther than that. Rev paused and looked over to where the gunner would be, directly below the Breel position, when three rounds hit him in succession, luckily none in the same spot. That was like being hit with a cattle prod. Rev jumped forward, bounding over three boulders.

He came up behind Corporal Haroldsdotter. Her prosthetic legs handled level ground extremely well, but here, climbing up the slope, she was at somewhat of a disadvantage.

“Move it, Jen,” Rev shouted. “Twenty more meters!” He took her Jackhammer as he passed. “Now push!”

She grimaced, but now by using both of her hands, she could pull herself along.

Rev jumped up another level, and there was the lieutenant.

“Come on, Gunny. You and the corporal are the last two.”

He came down a few steps, hand out. Rev took it and got pulled up and past him, then the lieutenant grabbed Haroldsdotter and half carried her through the prone Breel, who were still firing below.

“The 62 gunner?” Rev asked.

The lieutenant shook his head. Rev didn’t know if that meant the gunner had already retreated or had been killed.

“Keep going,” the lieutenant ordered.

As they passed through the Breel, their allies folded in on them. Just beyond the military crest, they were in defilade to the Naxli still in the kill sack, but not to long-range fire from those farther out. They had to get over the actual crest to be out of their line of fire.

Breel and humans alike wove through the scraggly pines and rocks to a shoulder between the hilltops. Yancey had already started to position the platoon as they arrived, covering the rest.

The key now was to get a headcount, then form up and get the hell out of there. It wouldn’t take the Naxli long to climb the heights. The troopers and Breel had to put as much distance as possible between them as they dispersed into the hills for the next phase of the operation.

The headcount quickly came in. The M-62 teams had one survivor. The other three were confirmed KIA. All of the other attachments had no losses, and the platoon had three WIA and one KIA: Heiso Haga.

Punch estimated that four to five hundred Naxli had been killed. The platoon and attachments had lost eight. This operation had been a tactical success. But now the mission was about to change, and knowing the Naxli, they were going to come down on them like a ton of bricks.

8

“How much do we take, Gunny?” Staff Sergeant Tsao asked.

The resupply point was one of the original ones set up after the Centaur invasion. It had hundreds of thousands of various darts and rounds, but not nearly as much ammo for IBHUs. With both First and Second Platoon at the cache, the eight IBHUs would take almost the entire supply of twenty-millimeter rounds, leaving nothing for any other IBHU who might come to resupply.

“A full combat load, Tum. We don’t even know if anyone else will need them.”

What he didn’t say was that Lieutenant Grayson thought the established caches could be compromised. Rev hadn’t completely bought into the idea, but he had considered it when making his decision.

“What we do know is that we’re going to need the rounds. Replace your powerpacks, too.”

“I’m still at sixty-four percent.”

“Leave that one here and get a new one inserted.”

“Roger that.”

At least there was a good supply of powerpacks and cold packs. The IBHU Marines’ PAL-HXs used the same of both as the PAL-Hs did, and while their heat production wasn’t significantly higher than the non-IBHU Marines and troopers, their power draw was significantly higher if they employed their beamers.

Each of them carried three extra powerpacks, but it didn’t hurt to top off the one being used. Rev had run out of power before and had to molt from his PAL, and a PAL without power was just a pretty large paperweight. Given a choice, he’d really rather not run around the countryside fighting Naxli in his long johns.

Using the same logic, Rev ordered everyone to recharge their O2. At the moment, all of them had their face shields withdrawn and were breathing planet air. Their PALs could both carry a lot of pressurized O2 as well as scrub their exhalations, but better safe than sorry.

He could hear Tomiko haranguing her troopers to hurry, and that was the kick to remind him that he needed to get his own ass in gear.

“First Platoon, you’ve got ten minutes,” he shouted before he pulled out his ammo resupply, inserted the first round, then hit the autofeed. He watched the numbers quickly tally up—a nice feeling that never got old—and forty seconds later, he had a full combat load.

The retreat from the engagement had been mostly uneventful. Two drones had been spotted and shot down, but the skies hadn’t opened up with orbital fire, nor had the Naxli managed to catch up and engage them.

Without the immediate threat, both Lieutenant Grayson and Kaigun Chūi Rusut, the Second Platoon commander, had independently diverted to the supply cache. But every minute they spent there gave the Naxli another minute to close the gap. And if they re-established contact, it would be much more difficult for the troopers to break away again.

He closed the magazine cover, dropped the old powerpack, and after Randigold tossed him a fresh one, fumbled to get that one inserted. (A PAL could function for thirty-to-forty seconds without a powerpack, which was more than enough time for someone with two hands to insert a new one.)

With only one hand when his IBHU was attached, Rev always had a moment of panic as he tried to insert a new powerpack. He had visions of dropping it and running out of time, turning statue and needing someone to come and rescue him. The residual power bar indicator, which receded across his face shield, only added to the pressure. But he managed to snap it into place with ten seconds left, and his display went back to normal.

“We’ve got movement!” one of the Second Platoon troopers, who was with the rear security, called out.

Rev wheeled around, his warrior surging to the fore as he got ready to set up a quick blocking position, when another voice shouted, “They’re Marines.”

Rev kept watching, though, until the first Marine appeared. He recognized the point, Lance Corporal Ishimon, and one of Kat’s friends.

“It’s Echo’s Second Platoon,” he told the other five IBHUs.

With at least three platoons gathering at the site, they were making a much bigger target, which directly contravened the general’s orders to disperse into platoon-sized units. But sometimes, the logistics tail had to wag the operational dog.

Rev could take some action, though. He shifted from head IBHU to platoon sergeant again. “First, that’s eight minutes now. Get your shit and step away.”

He topped off on water—the PALs recycled, but there was always some loss—then started herding his troopers. But his head was on a swivel, hoping to catch a glimpse of Kat. He knew Echo must have had casualties, and he’d sure feel better knowing his sister was still kicking.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. As First started to form up just past the cache, Rev grabbed one of the Echo Marines.

“Do you know if PFC Pellet—”

“Rev!” a welcome voice called out.

The Marine smiled and pointed, but Rev was already turning. Kat was just emerging from the trees.

Rev waited a few moments as she came up to him. The two fist-bumped their PAL gauntlets. “Good to see you, Gunny,” she said, reverting to his rank.

“Likewise, Lance Corporal.”

She lowered her voice almost to a whisper. “Miko?”

“Kicking ass and taking names.”

“Gunny, let’s go,” Lieutenant Grayson called to him.

He’d been in his element with the cache and had taken charge, but it was time to move out.

Rev said, “Keep your head down, Kat.”

“You, too.”

It was about the shortest reunion on record, but those were the demands of war. He hurried over to the platoon, which was already moving out, when he realized that while he’d at least spoken a couple of words to Kat, and he’d heard Tomiko, he hadn’t even actually seen her.

And now it was too late.

With a sigh, Rev took his place behind Second Squad as they left the cache and moved into the forest.

* * *

When faced with a larger force, one of the standard courses of action was to concentrate your own forces and maneuver to gain local superiority. They’d done that with the last engagement. But now, they were going in another direction.

The general had decided that with only a couple of thousand or so bodies, where 2/9 and First Human were the only real functional combat units and the rest being various cats and dogs, she just didn’t have the resources to pursue that as a realistic course of action. With their huge advantage in numbers, it wouldn’t be that difficult for the Naxli to encircle the area, then start drawing on the purse seines until her force was trapped.

Her plan now was to disperse the Marines and First Human troopers into platoon-sized units at first and spread out. If the Naxli were forced to run around the countryside to try and locate the units, they’d be one, wasting time, and two, otherwise occupied and unable to prosecute actions against the civilians.

Some of these units would be caught and destroyed. That was a certainty. But it would be much, much more difficult for the enemy to eliminate the entire defending force.

And to increase survivability, if a platoon was engaged, there were to be no “last stands.” If they were hit, they’d break up into even smaller units and attempt to exfiltrate through the attacking forces.

Bundy had said that the general called it her “sand” plan. That is, they’d slip through the Naxli grasp like grains of sand falling through a child’s fingers.

That was all well and good on paper, and Rev understood the concept, but he didn’t feel very secure as the platoon moved north in the direction of Big Trees Provincial Park. There were tens of thousands of Naxli out there, and a single platoon was extremely vulnerable.

There was one option that Rev was keeping in his back pocket. He hadn’t brought it up, but it had worked for him before. The question he had was if it actually was even a possibility.

When the war first started, the Naxli seemed willing to engage in what they called gnista, or combat by champion. That had largely disappeared, both because the MDS had reneged on the agreement on Alicia’s Bounty and the Naxli, for the most part, didn’t really seem overly wedded to the concept. They liked it when they assumed their champion would win the fight or when they were in deep trouble and facing defeat. Otherwise, they didn’t look to consider it a viable course of action.

A few of the Naxli seemed to be more attached to the old ways, and it was possible that they wouldn’t refuse a challenge if it were made properly. Rev had decided that if the platoon got trapped with no way out, he’d at least try to challenge the enemy. They might just kill him, but maybe a more traditional enemy commander might agree. He wasn’t counting on it, but it was an option.

The platoon was moving roughly parallel to Highway 54, the main road from Anastasia to Tensing Station, the cluster of buildings at the north entrance to the park. They’d already passed Crymych and Horryville, the largest (and almost only) settlement along the highway. It was a ghost town. They hadn’t actually entered it, but from a distance, Rev could see most of the buildings. Several were now rubble, and there was no sign of humans.

Second Platoon was farther to First Platoon’s right, and one of the Breel units was on the opposite side of the highway. The captain and the other two Alpha platoons were on the other side of the Breel. Their movement plan was not set in stone. Much would depend on the Naxli and what they would do. The basic plan was to get Alpha into the hills and mountains surrounding the agricultural plain and above the park, where Naxli mobility would be compromised, and it would be more difficult for them to mass forces against the humans. And, if necessary, the troopers could easily shift southeast back to Anastasia or southwest to Swansea.

The platoon made good time. The forest here was not nearly as dense as it would be in the park with its eight-hundred-year-old redwoods, and there were open areas, but it did give them some degree of cover. They didn’t come across any damage, but the smell of smoke still hung around. With the way the prevailing winds funneled the air, Punch couldn’t tell if it was coming from Swansea or Anastasia.

“There’s the Spizzo,” Rev said as he finally spotted the river on the far side of a meadow.

<Your pulse rate is soaring.>

Rev had spent days as a child playing along the banks of the river as it made its way through the park. He had fond memories of hunting crawdads or finding interesting-looking rocks.

But he hadn’t seen the river since the battle in the park during the Centaur invasion. And now, he could feel a wave of anxiety come over him . . . and that made him angry.

This had been one of his favorite places, but now it had taken on a different emotional value. He’d lost Marines in the park. The names came unbidden as if ghosts wanting to be remembered. Tubba Badem. Gizzy Incrit-Kole. Thesbian McAnt, his fellow IBHU Marine. Prestor Nix.

Rev felt a lump in his throat. The park wasn’t a place of joy for him anymore. He’d let the Centaurs take that from him.

“When this is all over, remind me to come back here,” he told Punch. “I’m gonna get my love for this place back.”

<I’m not sure what you mean, but I will remind you. Do you want something to lower your pulse rate?>

“No. I’m fine.”

He took several deep breaths and then tried to focus on the task at hand.

As they got closer to Tensing Station, the area narrowed. Third and Fourth Platoons should have moved up to the higher ground above the river by now, but the constrained terrain brought First and the Breel together.

Lieutenant Grayson halted the platoon and then conferred with the Breel commander for a few minutes. When he returned, he signaled for Rev and the squad leaders.

“There’s a slight change of plans. We’ll be moving with the ents through the park until we can spread out again.”

Rev grunted. That wasn’t what the general ordered, but it made sense. They’d climbed and circled around from the RP to set up the first battle site. Now, they’d continued, coming around full circle back to the RP again. They were going to descend a couple hundred meters along the river and through the upper reaches of the park, where it was much narrower, before passing close by the RP and where the terrain opened up again.

“It’s no big deal. We’ve worked with Lieutenant Vindeeloo and his platoon before. We’ll take the lead, and the ents will follow in trace. There’s a relatively flat spot down below us—”

“Bluebonnet Meadow,” Rev said.

The river flattened out there, making a small wetlands area. That was where Nix and Badem had been killed.

“Uh, yeah. That’s right. Bluebonnet Meadow. That’s a little bit of a danger area, so we’re going to secure it, then let the ents pass through. When they can start moving to the right, they will while we sweep the road down to the south entrance of the park. Any questions?”

“Same order of march?” Yancey asked.

“Same order. But the flanks are going to have to come in some. It’s pretty narrow up at the top. If there’s nothing else, let’s get going.”

Rev moved back behind Yancey and Third Squad, and within a minute or so, they were moving again. Given a choice, Rev would rather have Second taking point again. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust Yancey. It was more that he’d rather have Randigold with the lead element than Lance Corporal George Nnadi, the new IBHU Marine. A former missileman, Nnadi had been Direct Combat, at least, but it still took time and experience for a Marine to master an IBHU, time the lance corporal just hadn’t had.

But the lieutenant had made his decision. And Rev knew he couldn’t keep Second Squad in the point position just because of Randigold. The platoon moved out.

Tensing Station came into view after another 200 meters. At one point, the station included The Everest House, a large, garish building with a model of Mount Everest, the highest mountain on Mother Earth, rising above the roof.

Rev had been to the building as a kid, eating “yeti jerky,” drinking apple cider, and marveling over the robotic yeti that greeted visitors.

He’d been there as an adult, too, right after the battle at Bluebonnet Meadows. This was where Gizzy had been killed. Private Harisa, too. And . . .

He turned around and caught sight of Strap. The Marine had been badly wounded here. Rev wondered if that was going to affect him.

Tensing Station had never been rebuilt. The Everest House was a shell of a building with unpatched holes in the walls. There was no sign of the replica of the mountain. As far as Rev could see, the only thing left was a fuel cell station and attached minimart. Both were closed, and the windows on the minimart were boarded up.

The troopers moved through the station and past the entrance to the park. New signs had been erected. One welcomed visitors to the park, and another listed the rules. Still another was simply a line image of a squatting dog with the admonition to visitors to clean up after their pets.

There was something new, though, that Rev hadn’t realized had been erected. It was a historical plaque detailing the battle. Rev didn’t try to read it. He’d lived it.

In the upper reaches of the park, the redwoods were smaller and intermixed with Douglas firs and sugar pines. It was down below that the giants grew.

The platoon followed the river into the park. Rev kept his head on a swivel, scanning the slopes on either side of them, which would give the enemy a handy platform to attack from. The only saving grace was that the rest of the company would be on the high ground as well.

Rev’s pulse started to climb again as they approached Bluebonnet Meadow. But where Tensing Station looked like it had been the site of a battle, the meadow looked pristine. Nature had completely absorbed the signs of the fight.

It was still a danger area, though. The platoon stopped on the near side, set up a base of fire, then Third Squad, with Rev, hurried across and set up themselves on the other side. No Naxli opened fire. No drones buzzed around. The forest was silent, without even birds chirping or chipmunks scurrying around in the underbrush. As Rev lay prone on the other side, a lone banana slug crawling over a fallen log a meter from his face was the only sign of life.

With the platoon in place, the Breel did a quick passage of lines. “Sauntered” through the lines might be a better description of their almost nonchalant attitude.

“How do you think the ents are dealing with the trees, Gunny?” E-Spec 3 Hvarser asked as the Breel walked past them.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, look,” she said, pointing at the redwoods that were growing out of the slopes. “They’re huge!”

Hvarser was an Alliance soldier from Wayside. She may never have seen trees like this before.

“Do they have redwoods on Wayside?” he asked Punch.

<They have a still-small specimen at the Smythe Botanical Gardens, but none growing on the planet.>

Rev knew that only a few terraforming companies or governments planted redwoods. They took too long to grow and didn’t produce a lot of O2, but sometimes planting trees like redwoods was just good for the soul.

“If you think these are big, just wait until we get lower. That’s where the giants are. But why are you wondering about the ents?”

“Well, they’re trees, Gunny. And these trees are like their huge cousins or something.”

Rev resisted rolling his eyes. “The ents aren’t trees. They may look treelike, but they’re not even related to Earth life.”

Hvarser sniffed, then said, “Still, I bet they gotta feel something, you know.”

Maybe they did. Maybe they didn’t. Rev wasn’t going to worry about it.

With the Breel now the lead unit, Third Squad fell in behind them, and the other three squads crossed the meadow to follow. Having the Breel take point relieved a certain amount of stress, but it wasn’t as if Rev and the rest of the humans could relax. They were heading back in the general direction of the Naxli again, after all.

Rev wasn’t sure why they just didn’t head directly up to the hills. Normally, an operations order had a “commander’s intent,” which laid out what the commander was actually trying to do. The reason was that unless the unit knew what the commander wanted, then they couldn’t adjust their orders due to battlefield contingencies to be able to accomplish what the commander actually intended.

This time, the commander’s intent had been omitted. Maybe she wanted the highway through the park cleared. Or maybe she just wanted all of her forces in the high ground surrounding the agricultural basin, and someone thought that sending First Platoon down the highway was the easiest way to do that.

In the end, it didn’t really matter. First Platoon and the Breel platoon were going down the road alongside the river.

The lower they got, the taller the trees were. Despite telling Hvarser that the Breel were not trees, he couldn’t help but look ahead to see if their alien allies were reacting to the forest. As far as he could tell, they weren’t. But he wasn’t an expert in Breel body language.

They reached Jensen Grove, the first of the six groves of true giants. Despite the situation, Rev felt his pulse rise—but this time, in excitement, not from stress. The tall trees always elicited that reaction from him. Just to think that these huge trees had stood for eight hundred years. And due to the slightly lower gravity on Safe Harbor, a few of the trees rivaled those that were back on Earth in height.

The taller trees also let less light through to the ground, so there was less undergrowth. Rev could see most of the Breel now as well as Fourth Squad, which was the next one behind him as they moved almost silently over the soft ground litter.

Rev let his gaze shift up. As always, he was amazed at just how tall the trees were. He looked down just as motion up ahead of the Breel caught his eye.

He didn’t need Punch to warn, <Naxli, eleven o’clock.>

Rev was already in motion. With Breel between him and the enemy, he switched from guillotine to pencil and fired a two-second burst that dropped the enemy face-first onto the ground . . . just a second before the forest opened up with incoming fire.

Nnadi let loose a burst of twenty-millimeter fire, barely beating the rest of the squad, and a good few seconds before the Breel reacted. At least three of them were cut down in the first volley while the rest darted for cover behind the huge redwood trunks.

Rev was crabbing to his right, trying to find a position where he had clear fields of fire. His beamer recharged, and he fired another burst, but he wasn’t sure he’d had the beam on the running target long enough to register a kill.

Two explosions erupted almost in unison, each one sending a fireball rolling through the trees. The edge of the flames licked at Rev, but in his PAL, it might as well have been just a stiff breeze. The flames caught the detritus on the ground, though. Rev ran through them, gaining an angle where he could get a better line of sight. Four Naxli were kneeling behind a log so old that it had started rotting.

An evil smile crept over Rev’s face as he switched to his twenty and fired a long burst. The heavy rounds blasted apart the log and chewed up the Naxli behind it.

“Dumb shits,” he said as he continued forward.

<You’re getting ahead of the squad.>

Rev pulled up behind one of the giants. He’d let his warrior self take over and started ramboing it. Rev might not actually be part of Third Squad, but that didn’t mean he should be off fighting on his own. He had to be part of the squad.

He took a moment to get his bearings. Yancey was maneuvering his troopers by fire team up the flank of the Breel, who were only now starting to return fire, but as a separate unit without regard to the human troopers.

“Come on, guys. Fight together. We trained for this,” Rev muttered.

But he could affect their response. He was a platoon sergeant, and while the Breel didn’t belong to him, he could sure take charge.

“Breel,” he shouted. “Base of fire!”

He darted forward to where one of the Breel was blindly firing around a tree. Rev grabbed him by the shoulder and said, “Steady, well-aimed shots.”

The soldier vibrated its head, the Breel equivalent of a nod, then started firing more deliberately.

“Vindeeloo,” he shouted again, trying to get the Breel commander’s attention. He couldn’t see him and didn’t know where he was.

He darted to the next tree. His PAL’s alarms went off as he was hit by a beam, but the duration had been too quick to have much effect.

“Shields?”

<Ninety-one-point-two percent.>

Not so bad.

Behind him, he caught a quick glimpse through the trees as troopers ran across the river to the other side. They’d be moving forward in a moment to flank the Naxli.

Only the Naxli anticipated that. An intense volley of fire hit the troopers. At least one fell in the swiftly moving water. Luckily, the water was shallow, and another grabbed them by the dead man’s handle and pulled them back to this side of the river.

Rev didn’t have a clear view, but it looked like what must be some of First Squad troopers, including Micky Cocker, were now trapped on the other side as more and more shapes flitted into view.

“Bastards were waiting for us,” he said with a snarl.

He fired a blind burst at the distant shapes. Chunks of bark flew off a couple of his beloved redwoods, but at least one round made it through and shattered a Naxli helmet.

Rev had no targets near him. The initial ambushers had been killed, it seemed like. Regardless, there were more—many more—of the enemy rushing to take their place. Rev had been moving to the left flank, but most of the approaching Naxli were closer to the center along the river. He started running across to meet the threat, vaulted over a dead Breel, and then came to a sliding stop next to Yancey, who was prone in a small depression.

“We need to shift right. It looks like the entire nox army is coming up the road.”

“Shit! OK, let me get on it,” he said, turning to his troopers.

Rev was already moving, though. He could hear the platoon commander shouting out orders. He fully understood that the lieutenant was in charge, and he also knew that the man was a capable officer, but he was a loggie, not a Direct Combat Marine. Taking nothing away from him, the fact was that he had minimal experience in combat, and that lack could keep him from realizing patterns. Patterns that would be second nature to Rev.

He kept one eye on the advancing Naxli as he made a beeline toward the lieutenant. Another of the flame detonations washed over him. This time, he was close enough to feel the concussion. As he emerged from the other side, he was hit three times in quick succession—but luckily, not in the same spot. One hit high on his organic shoulder, one hit around his hip, and one hit on his PAL’s poleyn, the piece covering his knee joint.

That one staggered him, sending him knee first on the ground. He was almost immediately up, but something was off.

“Fix that, Punch!” he shouted as he kept running, but now with a limp.

His leg still worked and didn’t hurt, but the PAL was damaged, which limited Rev’s mobility. There was no time to stop. He had to hope that Punch was able to reroute whatever he could to get the leg fully functional.

He passed Nnadi just as the IBHU Marine fired a Moray. It hit one of the redwoods just fifteen meters ahead and was knocked to the ground, where the motor fizzled and spun the missile around in circles on the needle litter.

“No Morays unless you have a clear shot,” Rev shouted.

There was yet another explosion of fire. Rev hadn’t encountered this weapon before, but the troopers in PALs seemed to be invulnerable to them, so he didn’t dwell on the weapon except to hope that the Breel, with their lighter armor, could stand up to the weapon as well.

He reached the river. Randigold was kneeling at the edge, right where the water had cut a meter-tall bluff. She had Cruella de Vil supported on the higher ground as she fired short bursts with her twenty.

Rev jumped down and peered over her.

“Are you going to help me or just play tourist, Gunny?” she asked as she engaged four Naxli about two hundred meters downstream. One jerked back out of sight, but another fell forward with a splash and started floating away.

“You seem to be doing OK on your own, Eth. What’s your ammo count?”

“Eight hundred rounds and dropping.”

“You’ve still got your beamer. Don’t forget that,” Rev said as he prepared to make the dash across the river to where he could hear the lieutenant.

There was a tremendous crack from ahead, followed by the screaming of banshees, that stopped Rev in his tracks. One of the giants at the river’s edge slowly tilted toward the water, the pressure on the trunk making the tree scream as if dying. The tree hung up on the others for a moment until the vast weight and the pull of gravity overcame the other trees, and the eighty-meter-tall redwood broke free and came down with a crash onto the river. The top of the tree fell on the other side of the river, but the force of the impact broke the tree in the middle, and both halves struck the water, sending up waves.

Anger flowed through Rev. He didn’t know who had knocked down the tree, and he really didn’t care. The eight-hundred-year-old giant, who had witnessed most of the history of humankind on the planet, was now gone because the Naxli wanted to play their empire-building games.

“Bastards,” he muttered as he fired a burst over Randigold’s head.

<Bastards because of the tree or because of your dead?>

And just like that, Rev did a mental reset. And it took his crystal AI battle buddy to get his priorities straight. Yes, the loss of the tree was bad, but at least one Breel was dead, and a trooper was down. Probably more.

Don’t let your emotions get the better of you, Reverent.

A Breel body emerged from the riverbank into Rev’s view. The water was not deep enough for the body to sink out of sight, so it bounced along the bottom until it hit the tree and stuck. The force of the water building up made an arm bounce around as if it were waving.

Rev had to do something. There had to be hundreds of Naxli rushing forward like piranhas in a feeding frenzy. That made them easy targets, but knock down one, and three took its place.

And the lieutenant was trying to rally First Squad on the other side of the river when their only hope was to fall back into a defensible position. A group of Naxli appeared just downstream and on this side of the fallen redwood as they darted through the trees. Rev almost instinctively switched to guillotine-mode and swept the blade-like beam across them. To his surprise, it looked like he dropped all five. The beam had burned the trees as well, but a redwood is a massive organism.

A Naxli? Not so much.

The trees were able to easily survive his beamer, while the Naxli were cut in two.

“Try your beamer. Ignore the trees,” he told Randigold as he gathered himself to cross the river again.

He shifted around and was about to sprint when two loud siren blasts filled the forest. He’d been so amped to make the dash that it took a moment for them to register.

The lieutenant was ordering them to break off and retreat. Not just retreat but to disperse. They were to move to the next phase of the plan.

The call was the platoon commander’s, and Rev had been so focused on fighting he’d temporarily forgotten that part of able rehis orders. He’d tentatively intended to disperse with Fourth Squad, but he wasn’t sure exactly where they were at the moment, and he didn’t think he had time to find them. The lieutenant may have even waited too long if the Naxli had managed to maneuver to cut off the high ground to the west side of the river.

All this took just a few seconds to sink in, and then Rev was jumping into action.

“Cover the break contact,” he told Randigold. “Give them a chance.”

“Got it, Gunny,” she said as she calmly fired her beamer. “Hey, that works,” she said, sounding surprised.

Rev was going to leave the troopers on the other side of the river to the platoon commander. He’d take over here.

“You heard the signal. Break contact!” he shouted, running past Second Squad and toward Third.

“Now?” Corporal Weld asked.

“Now! Get your team out of here!”

As briefed, each squad would try to retain its integrity for the moment, but if things were really hairy, it would be down to the team level. Rev immediately threw sand in the gears, though, when he reached Nnadi and ordered him to stay put and cover the withdrawal, just as he’d told Randigold.

That was only the start. No matter how logical it seemed during the brief, it almost immediately turned into a Class A, Number 1 clusterfuck. Yancey and Rantz were everywhere, shouting at their troopers. The Naxli, probably sensing something, redoubled their efforts with fire and more of the flame detonations. They were held in check by Nnadi and Randigold, but that dam was about to break. Several Breel were retreating, moving through the troopers, further causing confusion.

“Yance, get the hell out of here! Screw formations.”

Rev had essentially just made this an individual retreat. Instead of each squad moving back in a tactical formation, he’d just opened the floodgates.

But he could help slow the Naxli down. He pushed forward, went to one knee, then started tearing into the advancing enemy and tempering their zeal. With three IBHUs , Over-sergeant Torking with his BIPAC, and someone—probably Istep—firing an M-103, they were mowing down the Naxli. And that had the desired effect. The enemy went to ground, seeking cover. That gave the troopers and Breel a chance to get more of the heavy redwood trees between them and the advancing horde.

Punch was noting targets, and Rev was mechanically engaging them. Ten, twenty dead enemy . . . he was losing track.

Some brave but stupid Naxli charged, waving its sword—the first sword Rev had seen on Safe Harbor. If it was trying to rally its fellow Naxli, it didn’t work. Rev nailed it before it had gone five steps.

Another Naxli painted Rev with a beamer. His alarms went crazy, but Punch was able to locate the gunner, who had exposed just a little too much of itself. Rev fired, and beam clashed with beam, the intervening distance coming alive in lightning and sparks.

Immediately realizing he had the wrong weapon, he switched and followed with his twenty. The enemy gunner didn’t have the same capability. The heavy rounds took it right in the chest and face.

<Shielding is at sixty-five-point-three percent.>

That was a huge drop. He couldn’t take many more hits like that.

He took a quick glance behind him and couldn’t see anyone.

“Eth! Pull back!” he shouted.

Rev could hear her fire a burst from her twenty, but only five rounds before she cut off. He hoped that was because she heard him and was retreating and not because she’d been hit.

“Torking, Nnadi, pull back,” he blasted over his externals at the MDS karnan and IBHU Marine.

He fired another burst from his twenty, hitting trees but not Naxli flesh. As long as it kept their heads down, though, it was just as good.

Rev heard one more burst from a BIPAC, then nothing. He was essentially on his own.

Time to get out of here, Reverent.

He let go a final burst, then turned and sprinted, making it about twenty meters unscathed before a fusillade of fire chased him. He was hit at least three times—he’d have to ask Punch later—but he was still on his feet, limping but still moving.

Rev searched the trees for one of the other troopers, but there was no sign of human nor Breel. And he suddenly felt alone. Very alone.

And he didn’t know where the rest of the platoon had gone. A human in a PAL was quicker than a Naxli. With the speed advantage, the best course of action, barring Naxli indirect fire, was to head up the road to the upper reaches of the park, using that speed to open up some separation, and then disperse so that the Naxli either had to split up or let most of them get away.

Rev, however, had a damaged PAL.

“What’s the status of my leg?”

<I’m rerouting connections, but it will be at least nine hours before you’re up to eighty-five, possibly ninety percent at best.>

Which meant Rev might not be able to outpace the enemy. The outgoing human fire was gone. That included First Squad and possibly Fourth on the other side of the river. And as soon as the Naxli realized the humans had pulled back, if they hadn’t already, they’d be hot on their pursuit.

Rev looked to his right. He could barely get a few glimpses through the trees of the steep slope leading away from the river. If he could reach that and climb out of sight before the Naxli advanced, he might escape their notice.

He didn’t stop to gameplay it out. He just reacted.

He turned to his right and took off and ran as fast as his damaged PAL would allow. The base of the slope was only fifty meters away, but once he reached it, progress slowed. His right leg had problems bending. He had to adjust his step, using his left leg to climb, then pulling up his right one behind him.

Rev kept expecting to be spotted. The trees were not as dense nor as large on the slopes. A Naxli on their right flank only had to look up to spot him, and he’d be a sitting duck. He found a little crevice that was more difficult to navigate, but it gave him a bit of cover from below. The going was brutal, though. He only had his right arm to grab at rocks and shrubs and his left leg to push up. He wasn’t in pain—his right leg hadn’t been damaged. But his PAL wouldn’t fully respond.

As he came out of the crevice, he was above the tops of the redwoods in the grove below, and the entire basin opened up to him. The sun was getting close to the peaks of the Klingsman range on the far side of the basin, and a low layer of smoke gave the appearance of mist. It was beautiful in its own way. That is, until he shifted his gaze to the southeast. Already in the shadow of the mountains to the south, Anastasia was wreathed in columns of darker smoke. To the southwest and farther away, Swansea was the same.

Rev had held an unreasonable hope that Swansea might have escaped the destruction. That hope was smashed now.

He took a moment to look out over the basin. This was the heartland of the continent. The mountains to the north stretched all the way to the coast where, except for some scattered fishing towns and military stations, it was mostly uninhabited. Right below him was where the battle for the continent was taking place.

Behind him, he had another thirty meters to climb, and he’d be in the clear from the Naxli below, at least. He was alive for another day. And in nine hours, he should be mobile again.

But then what?

“I guess we made it this far, Punch. The question is what we’re going to do now.”

<I assumed that you’d climbed out of the canyon for a reason.>

“What do you mean?”

<This is Second Platoon’s area.>

It took a moment, but Rev realized what Punch was saying. He and Tomiko had agreed that if things went so far that everyone was down to individual escape and evasion, they’d meet up at Lionhead Pond and ride it out together. But that wasn’t supposed to be for quite a while, and neither had really thought it would ever get to that. It was more of something to tell each other as a morale boost.

“Lionhead Pond is fifty klicks from here, Punch. And Second Platoon’s probably still fighting as a unit. I had to climb out of the canyon because I couldn’t outrun the noxes with a bum PAL leg.”

Still, now that his battle buddy had brought it up, he had to question if maybe his self-conscious had chosen to head in Second Platoon and Tomiko’s direction.

He didn’t like that thought. If that was true, it might mean he’d given up.

“No, Punch. I haven’t given up. I’m gonna fight to my last breath until we’ve kicked the noxes off my home.”

9

“Status.”

<All systems green. Power at forty-eight-point-six. One hundred and fourteen rounds. Six Morays. Shield at eighty-six-point-four percent.>

Rev grunted. He knew he was low on twenty-millimeter rounds, but he had hoped his shielding would have recovered better than that. Once he’d put in the last powerpack and Punch had a chance to run the self-repair, he’d hoped that the shielding would have at least gotten back up closer to a hundred percent.

The fact that it hadn’t meant that either there was a problem with this powerpack as well—he’d lost one powerpack when he’d been taken under fire at the park—or there had been damage to his shielding web.

Punch couldn’t tell from the readings he had access to, but Rev was guessing it was the latter. He’d already replaced the previous powerpack, and this one was depleting too quickly. Unfortunately, the issue couldn’t be determined until he got his PAL back to a Class A facility, and that wasn’t happening as long as the Naxli were on the planet.

Power drain and a slightly bum PAL leg aside, Rev was still a formidable fighting force, and he wasn’t going to just sit out the fight. And the code of the warrior, passed down for thousands of years, was that no matter the situation, he still must prosecute the battle.

Rev turned to Huck, his companion. He raised a thumb, then pointed it down to the ground and back up again in a question.

PFC Hukabodna raised a branch-like arm, one of the twigs approximating a thumbs-up.

Rev smiled at the Breel soldier. He’d figured Huck would be game.

Two days ago, Rev had holed up after climbing out of the canyon to let his PAL leg repair itself as much as it could. He’d run into PFC Hukabodna shortly after moving out again. The Breel soldier had been separated from his platoon, and like Rev, had opted for the high ground as they retreated from the Naxli attack.

Rev didn’t know if he should be trying to reform with his platoon. The orders hadn’t been specific about that—it was more of a see what the circumstances offered. But before he could even consider that, the first thing to do was to resupply. That made his decision easier. He had decided to move cross-country twenty-six klicks to the nearest resupply cache.

Huck seemed more than happy to accompany Rev. They moved tactically, continually on the alert for either human, Breel, or Naxli, but it was as if they were the only ones on the planet. If there had been fighting here, it had moved on. Rev hoped to run into Second Platoon. First may have already dispersed, but if Second was intact, he thought he could justify staying with them. And it wasn’t just because Tomiko was Second’s platoon sergeant. He just felt extremely vulnerable with only the single Breel soldier in what could be enemy-held territory.

They made it to the cache late the next day, only to discover that Lieutenant Grayson’s fears had been well-founded. The cache had been destroyed, along with the landline that connected it to the comms web. A couple of cases of M-51 darts had somehow escaped destruction, but they wouldn’t help either one of the two, so Rev left them in place. Maybe someone else could use them.

Rev needed ammo, and he needed more powerpacks. That meant a longer cross-country trek through much more open agricultural land. So, he and Huck stepped off, diverting somewhat to hug the base of the foothills, which gave them better cover but also added significantly to the distance they’d have to cross.

The area was quiet. Too quiet. The basin was large at about 40,000 square kilometers, but with tens of thousands of Naxli landing, there should be far more evidence than just the columns of smoke rising above the cities and towns in the distance.

The plan had been for the few defenders to head into the mountains. Still, Rev didn’t think the entire invading force was up there chasing them. None of this made sense to him, which had him amped up and hyper-alert.

Despite that, it was Huck who’d spotted their first Naxli, not Rev with his augmented eyesight. The Breel soldier had reached out and grabbed Rev by his IBHU, then pointed a long spindly arm up ahead.

A single Naxli soldier was just visible inside a forested section at the edge of a large bean field. The two allies went flat, and Rev pulled out his monocle.

The Naxli hadn’t seemed to notice them. It was standing just off the field and under the cover of some trees. The invaders were in their human form version, which didn’t make them human, but the body language screamed boredom to Rev.

“I bet it’s an OP,” Rev told Punch.

<There’s nothing on which to base that deduction.>

“Call it instinct, then.”

If it was a one-Naxli observation post, then there would be other Naxli around, and a single Marine, even an IBHU Marine, plus a lone Breel, would not be much of a fight. The smart thing to do would be to detour well around the fighter and bypass it.

But Rev was getting sick and tired of skulking around his home province.

“Let’s get closer,” he told Huck.

He picked out a somewhat covered route which would allow them to move within about four or five hundred meters. Not only that, but from the looks of it, there was a drainage ditch that could give them a covered way out if needed.

The approach required that they low crawl the last 200 meters or so. Rev, as an IBHU Marine, had problems low crawling, and 200 meters seemed like 200 klicks, but the Breel, if anything, was even worse. Anyone walking by would assume that two alien-sized worms were either dying or trying to make love. But finally, they reached their destination directly across the field from the Naxli.

This time, Rev pulled out his Optisight, extended the periscoping cable, and used it to observe the Naxli.

It looked like the same one they’d spotted earlier, although Rev wouldn’t swear to that. It was leaning up against a tree and for all the world looked like it was picking at its hand.

Rev handed the Optisight to Huck, who took a look, then lowered it again.

What to do now was the big question. Rev could take it out, he knew. But what would be the consequences? Killing it would raise the risk for Rev and Huck. The Naxli had buddies who would be upset if it was killed, and they’d want to find the killers. On the plus side, killing any Naxli was a good thing. But would taking out one low-level fighter make much of a difference in the long run?

Sometimes, though, a Marine just had to fulfill a need, and his warrior self, who’d been buttoned up for two days, was slamming at the cage to be let out.

That was when he questioned Huck, and Huck gave him a Breel thumbs-up.

“OK, Huck. We’ll kill it,” he whispered

The Breel shivered, the frills around his head rattling. This wasn’t their equivalent of a laugh but rather of an almost sexual-level excitement. At least, that is how Rev thought of the motion.

Rev eased forward, parting the beans until he had a clear shot with Pashu.

“Power at eighty percent, pencil mode,” he muttered, then chuckled at himself.

When he’d first gotten Pashu, he had to verbalize the power and mode. It wasn’t until both updates were made and he’d become more adept at controlling her that he didn’t have to do that anymore. All he had to do was essentially think the commands. So, he wasn’t sure why he’d reverted back to the old days right now.

For that matter, when had they started calling the tight, narrow beam “pencil” mode? It was hardly martial, not like “guillotine.”

By the Mother, Reverent. Who the hell cares? Get your mind back on track and waste the sucker.

He shook his head to clear it and aimed Pashu. This had to be a beamer shot, and not only because he was low on twenties. He needed to take it out silently.

There couldn’t be an easier shot. There were none of the considerations needed to fire his twenty. Point and shoot.

The Naxli was wearing the typical applied armor to supplement the organic armor it had grown. Rev was using enough power, and the distance was so close that he could burn through anywhere, but there was no use taking chances. He aimed in at the crease where the synthetic armor plaque ended on the thing’s neck. As was often the case with the human-form Naxli, the fighters regularly loosened that plaque at the collar just a bit, like a drunk Marine in his dress blues after the Marine Corps birthday.

Rev’s warrior was clamoring for attention, but he pushed him back down. He didn’t need an adrenaline rush for this.

“Watch this, Huck,” he said, and the Breel raised the Optisight to watch.

“See you in hell,” Rev muttered as he fired.

The Naxli dropped like a bag of rice. Behind him, the Breel did its rattling thing again.

There was no hue and cry from across the field. Rev started to pull back when he had a change of heart. If that was an OP, then someone would be coming around to relieve it. Why not go for a double?

He checked his power level. It had dropped, but he still had plenty left.

“We’re going to stay a bit longer,” he told Huck.

Longer turned out to be just over twenty minutes. Once again, it was Huck who’d spotted them first. But Rev was only a moment behind. Two Naxli were moving through the trees toward the dead one.

“Why two?”

<Possibly a relief and a junior leader, like an NCO.>

Rev sniffed. It made sense, but he’d been talking to himself more than asking Punch a question.

Rev aimed in on the first one. He’d wait until he had a clear shot, but with the body lying out in the open, they might spot it before that happened.

It was clear the moment they saw the body. But instead of taking cover, they ran forward.

“You’re making it easy for me, guys.”

They stopped at the body and stood for a moment, just looking at it. Rev wasn’t going to waste the opportunity. He fired again, a half-second shot that hit the closest one in the face.

A beamer could fire, depending on the power output, for up to five seconds. Shortening the pulse didn’t mean Rev could fire ten half-second shots before it had to recharge. The math didn’t work like that. But he should be able to fire again.

The last Naxli spun around, weapon raised, but facing the wrong way. It hadn’t figured out where Rev was.

Rev was going to teach it the error of its ways. He fired again and hit the Naxli center mass. The enemy fighter fell, but it wasn’t dead. Either the beamer hadn’t given Rev full power, or the Naxli’s armor managed to deflect most of the beam.

And now Rev had to wait. He could use his twenty to finish off the Naxli before it could reach cover, but that would make a report. He decided to wait. But the moment his display turned green was the moment the Naxli disappeared from view into the trees.

“Crap! Should have gone guillotine mode!” he said, second-guessing himself.

Now he had a real choice to make. Just let it go or chase it down? If he and Huck took off and left the Naxli to its own devices, it would give a warning to the others. Knowing the Naxli, they wouldn’t stand by and let them get away with killing two of their number, especially from long-range like that. The Naxli used snipers themselves, but they seemed to get angrier when humans didn’t fight them face-to-face.

If Rev went after the wounded Naxli . . . well, a wounded lion was the most dangerous.

“Screw it.” He turned to Huck and said, “Let’s go kill ourselves a lion.”

“A lion? One of your carnivores?” Huck asked. “Is this the best time for that?”

Rev pointed across the field and said, “Let’s go.”

He motioned Huck to move to his left, set his beamer to fan mode, and broke out into a run.

As a kid, his father had instilled in him that stepping on a crop was a sin. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing that each footstep in his PAL was destroying young bean plants, but that’s the way it was. He still had a hitch in his step. Over level ground, though, it didn’t slow him down.

One hundred meters, two hundred meters. They got closer to the two dead Naxli, but he couldn’t spot the wounded one. It should be right there.

At fifty meters out, a single shot hit Rev high on his left shoulder and pinged over him. But by firing, the Naxli revealed where it had somehow managed to cover itself with leaves. Rev reacted immediately by narrowing his beam and burning the Naxli in place.

He continued forward until reaching the edge of the trees, where he raised his hand to freeze Huck.

Did the others hear the shot?

He stood still for a moment, listening for anything that sounded like an alert. But the small section of forest was silent.

It looked like they might be in the clear, but Rev wasn’t going to push their luck. The three dead Naxli would be discovered—that was for certain. The question was when.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he told Huck.

Rev had let his emotions take over. Killing the three would make no difference to the fate of Safe Harbor, and it could have put a target on Huck and him.

Still, as they jogged back across the field, Rev felt damn good.

10

Rev’s face might be emotionless, but inside, his anger was molten lava as he looked at the bodies.

Reggie’s Crossing was—had been—a small settlement at the crossroads of Highways 54 and 15. The center was a touristy minimart where an animatronic tyrannosaurus rex welcomed visitors. The animatronics had long ago ceased working, well before Rev was born, so only the recorded roar had greeted people as they stopped for an overpriced snack or drink.

The dinosaur hadn’t welcomed them this time. Most of it had been destroyed, with only the feet remaining. But Rev wasn’t angry about that.

On the ground between the dinosaur’s feet and the minimart was a row of fourteen bodies. They were lying facedown, and each had been shot in the back of the head.

“Check the store,” Rev told PFC Neddles. He and Huck had spotted the Nine-nine Marine wandering across a field, and they’d gathered him in. Neddles had been part of a small convoy that had been hit by the Naxli. He was the only survivor. With no one telling him what to do, he’d been trying to get back to Camp Nguyen, but was extremely relieved to stick with Rev and Huck.

Rev stepped closer to the dead humans. Five of whom had their hands tied behind them. A middle-aged woman had an arm over a child’s head. It looked like the round that had killed the small boy had passed through her arm first.

A seventy-ish man, one of those who had his arms bound together, was the first one on the left side of the line. Rev walked up to him, squatted, and turned the man over. As he’d expected, it was Mr. Orontle. “Mr. O” was well-known to those heading up to the park or the highlands beyond. He wasn’t the owner of the minimart, who Rev vaguely remembered as living in Anastasia, but he was certainly the face of the store, the man who freely gave out Po-Gos or Kit Kats to the children who stopped by.

Only now, that face was mostly gone from the round that killed him. But with his lilac-dyed Mohawk, there was no mistaking that it was him.

“Bastards,” Rev swore under his breath. “Why?”

It was pretty evident that the fourteen people posed no threat to the Naxli. But they’d been hauled out of the handful of buildings, lined up on the ground, and executed.

Rev was fully aware of the Naxli propensity for violence. They’d scoured Farthmenger, with the loss of over eight billion people, after all. But somehow, this hit him harder. And it wasn’t because he knew Mr. O. He tried to imagine what the woman who had tried to protect the small boy had felt, the terror that must have consumed her as each one of them was cut down.

His warrior self was almost screaming in anguish and anger as it fought to surface and send Rev into berserker mode. It was a struggle to keep him at bay. But just as the woman hadn’t been able to protect the boy, there was nothing Rev could do now to exact revenge upon the enemy.

Nothing now. But later . . .

He knew that was the path to perdition, though. He couldn’t allow his anger to drive his actions. Like it or not, the death of these fourteen humans had very little impact on the big picture. Whatever action he took had to be based on the overall mission and the immediate tactical situation.

But Rev was human, and he wanted revenge. Whether it was the smart thing to do or not, he knew how he was going to react if given the opportunity.

It didn’t take a Tau Ceti Ranger to read the tracks on the ground. The Naxli had killed the humans, then continued north along the highway. He stood there for a long moment, scanning as far as he could see.

“Will we go after the Naxli?” Huck asked.

Rev just stared down the highway for a few more moments. He wanted to go after the enemy. He wanted to punish them. But his main objective was still to resupply. He couldn’t offer much of a threat to the Naxli unless he had a full combat load.

“No, Huck. Our mission stays the same,” he finally said with a sigh.

The Breel stood motionless. Rev didn’t know what that meant, and the alien didn’t say anything else.

Neddles came to the door of the minimart and beckoned Rev over. Rev went around the line of bodies and stepped up to the entrance. The inside was in shambles, as if the Naxli had used it for target practice. The food containers were pulverized, with goop splattered and pooled on the ground.

Most of the food, that was. Right on the front counter was a plate of Sunshines and Orange Fluffs, all of them in a neatly stacked pyramid.

Why the hell would they leave these?

Rev stepped up to the counter. The packages looked untouched, the food inside pristine. But it made no sense. He gave the shelves a closer look. He didn’t see even one undamaged container. The Naxli had obviously taken great pains to make sure nothing was usable. Except for the twenty packages sitting right in front of him, as if they were cookies being left for Santa Claus.

“Do you think they’re poisoned?” Rev asked Punch.

<I don’t have any way to test them.>

“I asked you if you think they’re poisoned.”

<And I told you, I can’t test them. Without any data, I cannot make a reasonable assumption.>

Rev and Neddles still had their combat rats, good enough for a couple more days. He wasn’t sure about Huck. Breel could eat human food and gain at least some degree of sustenance. Both of the snacks were fortified, so they’d give the two humans some benefit, but he wasn’t sure if they would help the alien.

And that was only if they weren’t poisoned or something like that.

Rev walked to the wall and picked up a shattered beer bottle. Most of the good packages were minimal without much mass. A beer bottle had the cooling pack, so there was a little more heft to it.

“Stand back,” he told the other two as he stood about five meters away and hefted the bottle with his organic arm.

For all the high tech in Pashu, for all her ability to take out targets at distance, she was not very good at simple tasks like throwing something. And while Rev had played flipball in school, he’d been a forward half and had never been one to throw or catch the ball.

He took a deep breath, then threw the bottle . . . and watched it sail right past the stack of snacks. He could feel his face redden inside his PAL helmet as he chased down the bottle and lined up again, this time a meter closer.

Mother help me, he thought as he wound up and threw again. This time, the bottle crashed into the snacks and sent them flying. More importantly, there was no explosion, no shower of shrapnel from a booby trap. It was almost anticlimatic as he told the other two to help him pick up the Orange Fluffs and Sunshines.

“Don’t eat them,” Rev told the others.

Neddles looked disappointed. He’d been eyeing the Sunshines with covetous longing.

“They could be poisoned,” Rev told him. “We’ll save them for an emergency, if it comes to that.”

He gave the inside of the store one last sweep to see if there was anything else that could be salvaged. Seeing nothing, he led the two outside.

“Let’s get moving,” he told them.

Neddles gave the dead humans a long look. “Shouldn’t we bury them or something?” he asked.

Rev had considered that, but they didn’t have shovels or anything else to dig with, and his subconscious was “itching,” was the best way he could describe it. It was as if they were being observed. He wanted to get out of there.

“I’ve told my battle buddy to mark their position. We’ll send someone back when all this is over.”

Neddles looked unsure, but Marine discipline kicked in, and he nodded.

<This is a known location. It will be checked when the battle is over,> Punch said. But he acknowledged the order to record the location and save an image of the dead.

Punch was correct, but Rev felt guilty leaving them like this, and he wanted to report their position as soon as he could.

The three moved back off the highway and headed toward the supply cache. Rev kept turning to look behind them, but he didn’t see any sign of the enemy. The hairs on the back of his neck kept rising, though, and he felt they were out there.

Don’t imagine what isn’t there, Reverent. Focus on the task at hand.

Two klicks later, they crossed an open field. Rev would rather have gone around, but this was part of one of the big corporate farms, and that would add about three klicks to get around it. Going across was about four hundred meters. They stopped just short of the field, and Rev glassed the other side for about five minutes before he gave the order to cross.

The crop was D-20 Rye, a short-stalked hybrid that provided one of the main organic bases for food fabricators. A bit of trivia popped into Rev’s mind from something he’d heard years ago. D-20 liked well-drained soil, so the fields tended to be plowed with a small rise in the middle, like a mound.

At a meter high, the rye didn’t provide much cover. But Rev hoped they could get across quickly and minimize their vulnerability.

“Let’s be quick,” he said as they stepped out into the field.

His head was on a swivel as they hurried across. He was amped with Pashu at the ready, searching for any sign of the enemy in front of him. As they reached the high point in the middle, he gave a quick glance back.

“Down!” Rev shouted as he dove for the ground.

Huck was right behind him, but Neddles looked around in confusion for a moment before he went prone.

“What is it, Gunny?”

Rev ignored the Marine and pulled out his Optisight. Carefully he raised it above the tops of the rye.

They were about two klicks from Reggie’s Crossing, and the rise, coupled with the layout of the fields, gave him a straight line of sight to part of the settlement. In his view, six—no, now eight—Naxli were moving. Rev couldn’t tell for sure, but it seemed like they were searching the area.

“Are they looking for us?” Rev asked Punch.

<That is a possibility, yes. But we can’t know for sure. They could be just passing through on their own.>

Rev watched for a few more moments. Two more crossed through his view.

His heart was pounding, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had no way of knowing for sure, but in his gut, he felt that the Naxli were looking for whoever had killed their three buddies.

It didn’t seem like they’d spotted the three allies, though, so that was a relief. Rev didn’t want to get into a footrace with them, especially not with Huck. The Breel were not as quick over the ground as the two humans were.

“Gunny?” Neddles said, his voice tremulous.

Rev lowered the Optisight. “We’ve got noxes back at Reggie’s Crossing. I don’t know if they’re looking for us in particular, but we need to put some distance between us.”

Rev turned to the low scrub on the other side of the field. Whatever trees were there had long been cut down, but the corporations had planted various bushes that cut erosion and put nitrogen back into the soil so that in a couple of years, the fields could be shifted and crops grown there.

Good for them, but not so good for Rev and the others. The cover was not optimal.

But first, they had to reach it without being seen.

With a sigh, Rev said, “We’ve got to low crawl to the other side.”

For the thousandth time, he wished that Sieben could come up with an IBHU that made low crawling easy.

It took almost nine minutes to get to the far side of the field. They stepped into the brush, and Rev tried to observe Reggie’s again, but the rise in the middle of the field blocked the view. He’d really like to see what the Naxli were doing, but not enough to get on his belly and low crawl back far enough to look.

The real question was if the Naxli were trailing them. Time would tell, but even if they weren’t, they had to gain some separation.

“Let’s move it,” Rev told the other two as they stepped off once again.

* * *

Rev brought the three of them to a halt. They were two hundred meters short of the cache, and that made it a danger area. He wasn’t going to have them waltz in without a care in the world.

They stood there like statues, listening for signs of activity. After ten long minutes, Rev gave the go-ahead to advance. But they moved cautiously, senses on full alert. As they got closer, there was evidence that someone else had been by. Branches were broken, and they intersected a trail where lots of feet had passed—a trail that was headed right for the cache.

Rev knelt at the edge of the tracks, trying to make sense of it. But he wasn’t a Tau Ceti Ranger, trained in this kind of thing. On the other hand, he had Punch.

“Can you tell who made the tracks?”

<There’s too much degradation. It could be Naxli or human.>

“You’re not helping me, Punch.”

<You’re expecting miracles?>

“What can you tell me, then?”

<Make your own footprint, just to the left of those right there.>

“Why?”

<I’m trying to determine when the tracks were made.>

Rev was lost, but he complied. His PAL’s sabaton sunk a good six centimeters into the soft, muddy ground. He pulled his foot free, then examined it.

The footprint wasn’t pristine. The sides collapsed as his sabaton was removed, leaving an indistinct depression. It looked like the other footprints, but he supposed the Naxli tracks would be about the same.

“Now what?”

<There’s no water pooling in the track. Pour some water into it.>

Rev frowned. While his urine, sweat, and breath were recycled, he didn’t have an unlimited amount of water. But he wasn’t going to argue. He released the small hose from the side of his PAL and poured about five hundred milliliters of water into the footprint.

<The water’s pooling.>

“And that means . . . ?”

<Your footprint was made in the same type of ground as the adjacent tracks.>

No shit, Sherlock. It’s half a meter away from the others.

But he didn’t say anything. Sometimes, he forgot that Punch was based on the same concept as any other AI, and like them, he had to check every parameter of an issue.

<Given the fact that no water filled your footprint from below before you used your PAL’s supply, we can reasonably assume that the others were filled by the last rainfall.>

Rev hadn’t considered that. A little more than an hour ago, a rain shower had passed over the area. Using Punch’s logic, that meant the tracks were at least an hour old. They could be days old, for all he knew, but they hadn’t just been made.

And that lessened the possibility that there might be someone at the site. It didn’t guarantee that, but it gave them a little wiggle room.

Going forward could expose them. With the trail, the smart thing to do would be to abandon trying to reach the cache. But they needed the resupply.

Rev really didn’t have much of a choice. He motioned to the other two, who’d silently been watching him, to move out again. Rev started to keep to the side of the trail, then changed his mind and told the others to join him in the middle. That way, their tracks would be lost in the larger number of footprints.

Rev knew the cache had been compromised before they reached it. Trees had been knocked down by an explosion. Still, he slowed them down until he had eyes on the site. Then he stood there, looking for any sign that someone was at the site.

The cache was gone. The building was a pile of rubble, and a gaping hole was all that was left of the actual underground structure.

What about the . . .

Each cache was wired into the comms web. Rev looked around until he spotted the terminal, or what was left of it.

“Salvageable?”

<See if you can pull out the lead.>

Rev poked around the mangled metal stand until he found the end of the lead. He gave it a gentle yank, afraid of breaking it off.

<Place the ends in your jack.>

“There’s no connector.”

<That would make it easier, but it doesn’t need it.>

Rev shrugged and pushed the end of the lead into his jack. He didn’t know how his PAL could make a connection, but to his surprise, after about twenty seconds, his display’s comms indicator went green.

Damn! It worked.

“Anyone, this is Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier,” he said, excited to make contact with the human command.

Only, there was no answer. His display indicated that he was transmitting, but not that the network was receiving it.

“Is the problem on this end?” he asked his battle buddy.

<Probably not. It’s most likely a break in the line. But without the terminal display, I can’t tell.>

The display being the wrecked hunk at his feet. So, even if the connection between his PAL and the lead was working, it didn’t go anywhere.

It was probably too much to hope for. He looked around for a moment. Might as well see if there’s anything worth salvaging.

Rev led the other two to the edge of the hole.

“Hell. All this way for fucking nothing,” Neddles said.

There might be something left in the wreckage, but not much, and Rev wasn’t going to sift through it.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Grayson,” he muttered.

This is what the lieutenant had said would happen, and this was why the supply officer had them move some of the supplies. If they both got out of this with their skins intact, he owed the man a beer. Maybe two.

“Not for nothing, Neddles. There’s still hope.”

“Whaddayu mean, Gunny?” the Marine asked.

“We moved some stuff. Let’s go see if it’s still there.”

He led off. The tracks left the cache site and headed to the water. Rev began to wonder if the Naxli had found that, too, but just before reaching, the tracks diverted to go along the dryer ground to the north. He sighed with relief as he saw that the immediate area around the second cache looked undisturbed.

“We transferred some of the ammo and powerpacks into the water right here,” he said. “Let’s go see if they’re still there.”

Rev told Huck to cover them and for Neddles to go retrieve two-millimeter darts while he waded to where he and Randigold had stashed the twenty-millimeter rounds. He shuffled his feet to make sure he’d hit the crates, but he felt nothing. He was getting anxious and was just about to ask Punch if he was in the right spot when his toe slammed into something hard.

He bent over, and by feeling around, grabbed a handle. He pulled up the beautiful sight of a case of 20mm.

Thank the Mother.

He dragged it over to the dry(er) ground and opened the case. The linked ammunition was pristine. He unclipped the belt, slipped the end into the feed tray, and started the autofeed. Twenty seconds later, he had five hundred more rounds loaded.

Three more trips, and he was maxed out and had to break off the last belt with almost two hundred rounds left. He was about to put them back into the case when he changed his mind and draped the belt over his neck. He didn’t know if they’d stay put or not, but it was worth a shot.

Fully loaded out, he rejoined Neddles. The Marine had found the powerpacks. As a Ninety-nine, he wasn’t in a combat suit, so he couldn’t make much use of them, but Rev replaced what he had. Then Rev helped locate the darts for Neddles’s modified M-49.

That done, he looked around, searching his memory and coming up blank.

“Where’d we put the combat rats?” he asked Punch.

<I don’t know.>

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Rev asked, confused.

An AI didn’t forget things.

<You never saw any combat rations being loaded, so I never saw any.>

That didn’t seem right to Rev. He could have sworn he’d told the Marines to stash the rations.

He and Neddles searched for another thirty minutes before he gave up.

“Sorry, Huck,” he said.

The Breel soldier was very low on rations. The Marine Corps combat rations, which were extremely condensed sources of energy, might not be perfect for him, but of all the human food, they offered the most bang for the buck. He could survive on them for an extended, if still limited, period of time.

Huck seemed to take it in stride, though. For a moment, Rev considered going back to the original cache site to see if they could scrounge something up, but he was pretty sure that would be a fool’s errand. And that little niggling at the back of his brain was urging him to move on.

“What now, Gunny?” Neddles asked.

Which was a good question. He’d been so intent on resupplying that he hadn’t thought much about it.

A Marine always went with his last set of orders, though.

“We’re still here to fight the noxes, Neddles. Nothing’s changed. So, let’s go see what mischief we can get into.

* * *

Huck raised a bony hand, the twig-like fingers closed in his approximation of the human hand-and-arm signal to freeze. That was about the limit of his usage of the signals, though.

He turned and said, “There is movement ahead.”

“Naxli?” Rev asked.

“I couldn’t determine that.”

Rev edged up alongside the Breel and tried to spot the movement through the trees. These weren’t the huge giants of the redwood forest. These were scrub oak, and many of the branches were low to the ground, which affected visibility.

They were in the foothills, and the area had both domesticated and wild animals. Specialty ranches let pigs roam free where they feasted on the acorns, and goats and cattle sometimes roamed free, too. Even when most food was fabricated or vat-raised, there were still people, like Rev’s mother, who would pay for the real thing. Wild deer were plentiful in the area, as well.

If Rev had to guess, the Breel had seen an animal. But that was a stupid assumption to make. While they hadn’t seen any Naxli since Reggie’s Crossing, he knew there were tens of thousands of them in the area. Sooner or later, they were going to cross paths again.

And then there it was. A brief shape moving through the trees.

<Human,> Punch immediately said.

Rev turned to Huck and said, “It’s human.”

Their last orders were to exfiltrate in small groups and keep the Naxli chasing them. But Rev felt like he was in a vacuum. He wanted contact with more people.

I could see if they’ve seen any Naxli.

He knew he was trying to find an excuse, but he didn’t care. He could contact them and then break off again.

“Let’s go link up and exchange intel,” he said.

They could be civilians, but if they were Marines, friendly fire was a real risk. Rev decided to move in the open and announce their presence. But there wasn’t a reason to risk everyone. He told the other two to stand fast, and then he walked forward, staying out of any cover.

“I’m a Union Marine!” he shouted over his external speakers, aware that not only the humans might hear him.

But with very little sign of Naxli since Reggie’s Crossing, and what there was in the far distance, he thought it worth the risk.

After a moment of silence, a voice shouted back, “Who are you?”

“Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier, First Human Expeditionary Battalion.”

“Pelletier? Like the azri?”

Rev rolled his eyes. “I’m the IBHU Marine, yes.”

A Marine in a PAL-3 emerged into the open.

Infantry, then. Echo?

Several more appeared into his view, and Rev continued forward.

“Sergeant Harrington Lim,” one of the Marines said as they met. “Echo Company.”

Rev’s heart gave a little jump. “Echo? Do you know—”

“Your sister. We know who you are. We’re from Second Platoon, too. In fact, we’re moving to the link up now, so she should be there.” He looked behind Rev and asked, “Where’s the rest of your unit, Gunny?”

Rev had been focused on the “she should be there,” and it took a moment for the question to register.

“We were hit hard, so we started the dispersion and exfiltration.”

“You didn’t get the word?”

“What word? Comms have been down.”

“On the land web. We’re supposed to move by squads into the foothills, then link up and move to Llyn Trawsfynydd. That’s where we’re going to defend,” the sergeant said.

This was news to Rev. It hadn’t been part of the initial operations order, and after giving up his Toanphone to the Fox Company commander, he’d been out of the comms loop.

Llyn Trawsfynydd was a large lake—more of a series of interconnected lakes, actually—toward the north of the province. Despite its scenic beauty and rumors of lunker fish, it was rarely visited as there were no roads leading there. Fishermen and others had to fly in.

“We’re abandoning the basin?” Rev asked.

Lim shook his head inside his helmet. “Looks it. We’re just following orders, you know. The lieutenant said maybe we’re trying to draw the Naxli away from the population.”

The plan had been for the civilians to head south from the basin toward the coast. Going by the smoke that had filled the basin, it looked like most of the population centers had been devastated, but hopefully, the bulk of the people had reached safety. So, if they were in the Klingsman Range, then that made sense.

And if the Naxli took the bait, then they’d be slowed down much more than Marines on foot. There was a reason there were essentially no people north of the basin all the way to the fishing and carbon driller settlements on the north coast. The terrain was extremely rugged and almost unpassable.

“We tried to use the web, but the terminals were down,” Rev said. “When was this passed?”

“Going on two days now. We split up into squads to get to our RP.”

Rev counted the Marines who were gathered around him. Five didn’t make a squad. And they should be being led by a staff sergeant, not a sergeant.

The sergeant saw him counting. “We were hit hard, too, Gunny.”

“Respect for the fallen,” Rev automatically said.

Rev hadn’t been too keen on their original orders to disperse into teams. He was more in the camp of keeping as strong of a local force as possible. The new orders were welcome, but why did Kat’s platoon break into squads to exfiltrate up into the highlands? It might be a way to ensure that at least some Marines made it to the lake, but it wouldn’t have been his choice of tactics.

“Was that before or after you split up,” he asked, wondering about Kat.

“After. But your sister was still kicking when we went off on our own.”

Rev tried not to show too much relief. He turned and motioned for Huck and Neddles to join him.

There was a stir from the Marines as they spotted the Breel.

“I’m not sure where my platoon is supposed to link up,” Rev told Lim. “But if we’re all heading to Trawsfynydd, do you mind if we go with you?”

It was hard to discern body language in a PAL, but Rev had plenty of practice. The staff sergeant glanced at Rev’s IBHU, and he could see the relief in the sergeant’s posture.

“That would be great, Gunny.”

“Where’s your RP?” Rev asked.

Lim gave Rev the coordinates, which were just over seven klicks away.

Rev looked at his now eight-person—eight-being, that was—unit and said, “Then let’s get going.”

* * *

It was good to be with other jarheads again. Rev had felt pretty vulnerable alone, and while being with Huck and Neddles had been an improvement, they weren’t Direct Combat Marines. This wasn’t even a full squad, but at least it was something.

The comfort, however, was somewhat diminished by the renewed sounds of fighting. Twice now, they could hear firefights going on in the distance. Just hours before, Rev was feeling weird that they had no sign of the enemy since Reggie’s Crossing. That lull had disappeared.

Be careful what you wish for, Reverent.

Yes, he now had an idea of where the enemy might be, but Marines were possibly getting killed.

They were slowly climbing back into the higher ground. Over the last few days, Rev had gone up, then back down, and was now climbing again. This wasn’t how he was used to fighting. It had been a somewhat similar situation in the swamps of Syron III, but he much preferred having a clear-cut mission and objective. And with the Naxli invading his home, that should be attacking and destroying the enemy.

Maybe the general has a plan to trap them.

It was a comforting thought, and the Llyn Trawsfynydd area had lots of constricted terrain that could help a smaller force defeat a larger one, but all of that was way above Rev’s pay grade.

Still, he and Punch looked at a map of the region and discussed options as they headed to the RP. He couldn’t give it too much consideration. They were moving through a combat zone, after all. In fact, he shouldn’t spend any time on it. But he couldn’t help wondering what was next after they reconstituted around the lake.

An explosion to their right stopped everyone in their tracks. A fierce firefight broke out. There were the faint snaps of M-51s and the larger booms of the forty-millimeter grenades, but the reports of the Naxli BFGs were far more prevalent.

It didn’t take long before the human weapons stopped. There were more BFGs, but then they petered out as well and went quiet.

Rev didn’t know for sure, but it sounded like a Marine unit had just been overrun. He cursed under his breath. Maybe if they hadn’t dispersed, whoever that was would have had enough Marines to stand up to the enemy.

“How far?”

<Between three and four klicks.>

Which meant there was a small river canyon between them. The Naxli could cross it, though doing so would slow them down.

Rev signaled to resume moving. Up ahead, Mother willing, would be the rest of Fox’s Second Platoon. Rev might be the only IBHU with them, but that still presented a more robust capability.

They kept climbing. Twice, they had good views over the basin behind them. The now ever-present haze of smoke hung low over the ground, but there was no overt sign of battle nor of any pursuers. Rev’s senses still tingled as if they were being followed, but they were a long way from Reggie’s Crossing and an even longer way from where he’d killed the three Naxli.

It's probably just your nerves, Reverent.

The RP the platoon commander had selected was in a small meadow along one of the many creeks that drained down into the basin. It didn’t offer much in the way of defenses, but it did have easy access farther up into the highlands where Fox was supposed to link together, and from there, onto their objective at the lake.

This time, it wasn’t Huck who spotted the Marines. Rev had put the five Marines from Fox in a tight wedge, with Huck and Neddles in the rear, and a Marine on OP challenged the lead team. Within minutes, they were entering the small meadow.

“Rev?” a voice called out incredulously.

A Marine in a PAL-3 was hurrying over. Rev resisted the temptation to rush to her and give his little sister a hug. No matter how much he wanted to, he needed to keep this on a professional level.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Kat said.

“But I was hoping to see you here. We ran into Sergeant Lim a way back, and he told me about this RP. We got hit up at Big Trees and dispersed.”

“Lim? Where’s Staff Sergeant Hanu?”

“This is all there was,” Rev said, sweeping an arm to encompass the five Fox Marines.

Kat was silent for a moment, then quietly said, “Respect for the fallen.”

“Where’s your lieutenant?” he asked.

“Not here yet. Let me get you Sergeant Koral.”

Rev didn’t change his expression. Koral had been a pain in Kat’s ass since she joined the unit. But that didn’t matter now, he reminded himself.

Third Squad—Kat’s squad—had arrived at the RP almost intact. A few were walking wounded, but only one had been lost in the platoon’s sole engagement. Gunny Veja, the platoon sergeant, had been with Lim and Second Squad but was KIA. That left First Squad and the lieutenant.

As the senior Marine present, even if he wasn’t assigned to the battalion, Rev took charge. Koral had set up OPs both down and uphill of the meadow. Rev sent the sharp-eyed Huck to the downhill OP, which had a good field of vision of the route up from the basin and foothills.

The five survivors from Second Squad were a little short on ammunition. The cache with all the M-51 ammo was too far away now, so Rev had Third redistribute some of theirs. He asked about chow, but the Echo Marines were short on that. The snacks Rev, Huck, and Neddles had snagged in Reggie’s Crossing were burning a hole in his cargo holster, but he resisted.

And then they waited. According to Koral, First Squad had the most direct route to the RP, so they should have reached it first. But the hours passed without sign of them. Rev started to consider whether they should head to the Echo RP. Lieutenant A’Day would be heading there as an alternate RP if he couldn’t make this one for whatever reason.

He also wondered where his own platoon was. It was all well and good to be with Marines again, but if his platoon was forming up now, he should be with them. If he knew where that was, he’d take off on his own. But while he and Punch discussed the options on where that might be, he wasn’t sure.

What he did know was that if they got the word, they’d be heading to the lake, and he could link up there.

The matter was taken out of his hands, though. Five hours after they’d arrived, the downhill OP came running into the little CP Rev had set up.

“We’ve got movement,” he said.

“First Squad?” Koral asked hopefully.

“Nox. A bunch of them.”

“Show me,” Rev said, rushing down to the OP, the Marine and Koral in tow.

Huck was on his belly as still as a statue on the rock that served as the OP. Rev got down as well and eased forward. Koral edged up alongside him.

“Down to the left, along the route we took up,” the Breel said.

Rev didn’t need his Optisight. He could see the Naxli move through the scrub oak. He couldn’t see the entire body, but during the minute he watched, he must have spotted at least fifty of them. There were more than just that number. Rev’s view was limited, and the Naxli were crossing his field of view about two klicks away before moving behind the hills below.

And this wasn’t just a casual patrol. There was a purpose to their movements, as if they were tracking them. Rev had no way of knowing for sure, but he was certain these were the Naxli who had gotten on his nerves before. He’d put money on the fact that these were the companions of the three Naxli he’d killed.

“How long before they get here?” he asked Punch.

<At the same pace that we can observe now, about seventy minutes.>

Rev let out an involuntary sigh. Including him, he had seventeen Marines and a Breel. That wouldn’t be enough to make a stand, even if the meadow was defensible.

“What do we do now, Gunny?” Koral asked.

They couldn’t stay put. That was obvious. And downhill wasn’t an option. They could try and move either way to the side, but Rev was conscious of the fighting he’d heard to the north a couple of hours ago. If the Naxli there were moving higher, Rev and the rest could run smack into them. If he tried to go to the south, they could be slowed down enough so that the Naxli could take them under fire.

That left up the hill along the creek until they could branch in another direction.

“We can’t face them. We leave,” Rev said.

“But First Squad? And the lieutenant?”

“You said they should have beat you to the RP. Something got in their way. And if they’re able to, they’ll be heading to the lake.”

He paused and took one more look down the hill. The Naxli were still entering his field of view.

“No. If we’re supposed to lead the bastards to whatever the general is planning, that’s what we’re gonna do. Only first, we’re leading them on a wild goose hunt. Wear them out and give the general time to prepare a welcome for them.

“Do you do Hash House Harriers, Koral?”

“No, Gunny. But I know how it works.”

Rev hadn’t run a Hash House for years, but the analogy, where a small group of three or four runners was the “hares,” leading the main pack of runners on a convoluted route that would eventually end up at a party site, was pretty valid.

“Well, we’re the hares. And the party’s gonna be at the lake.”

Koral eyed the Naxli below with uncertainty.

“And if they catch us?”

“Then we’ll show them that some hares have teeth.”

11

The Naxli round exploded about two meters above the ground, and an expanding ring of interlocking bars cut through the squads. The bars caught PFC Kominga across the helmet, taking off the crown, along with the top of her head. Her body was blown back, and blood sprayed into an arc as she fell.

Rev had been stepping between two large rocks, one of which broke the ring. The tip of one bar still smacked Rev across the shoulders.

“Status check!”

<No penetration, and your IBHU reads green.>

Rev had been hit twice now, and he sported two scores gouging his PAL. Fortunately, both combat suit and IBHU were still operational.

“Watch for the damn drones!” he shouted.

This was a new weapon. The ECR was limited to maybe ten meters. Beyond that, the bars expanded too far, broke apart, and lost velocity. But within the ten meters, the bars could damage even a PAL.

He didn’t even know how the warhead was delivered. Mortar? Artillery? An orbital weapon? He didn’t think it was a missile. They’d see that coming. But this thing . . . the explosions seemed to happen out of nothing, as if the round was coming out of bubble space.

Which was impossible, right?

Punch assured him that it couldn’t happen, not with the tech the Naxli, or anyone else for that matter, had exhibited.

The only saving grace was that the rounds were preceded by small drones, which provided either targeting or terminal guidance. Spot the drone and take it out, and that would spoil the aim of the round.

Neddles ran over to Kominga and checked the Marine. He looked to Rev and shook his head.

Somehow, even without a PAL, he was still untouched. Huck as well, even if the Breel was moving slowly. Rev had given him his last combat ration, but the alien seemingly hadn’t gotten enough nourishment out of it to do much good.

Rev surveyed the valley ahead of them. It was beautiful. In another time, he’d love to come back and just enjoy the place. Right now, though, it was a death trap.

Rev had wanted to play the hare, leading the Naxli around by the nose. But it was the Naxli who were relentlessly herding the small group of humans. Three days after leaving the RP, six Marines had already been killed, and Corporal Winterspan was effectively on one leg. Without Lance Corporal Sanders helping the NCO, he wouldn’t be able to keep up. Five more were either wounded or had damaged PALs. One Marine, Lance Corporal Ingot, had to molt from her PAL and was now in her long johns.

Most of the surviving Marines had to have reached the lake by now, and the Naxli certainly knew where the main body of fighters was on the continent. But there were hundreds of them chasing down what was now ten Marines and a starving Breel. It didn’t make sense from a strategic standpoint, but that was the situation.

He knew there were Naxli behind them, continually pushing, but as he surveyed the narrow valley ahead, he was sure that there were Naxli along the right flank, waiting for the humans to step into the kill zone.

If they had any hope to bend back around and get to the lake and the main body, they had to get through the valley.

<Drone, eleven o’clock.>

Rev had seen it already, though, and was reacting. He raised Pashu, and with a pencil beam, fried the drone at ninety meters away. The damage was done, though. They’d been spotted, and another round would be on the way.

“Move it, move it!” he shouted as he bolted to the left. The others joined him. He diverted his path, grabbed Winterspan’s right arm, and put it around his shoulder. With Sanders on the corporal’s left arm, the two bodily lifted him and carried him out of the impact area. Fifty-three seconds after Rev knocked out the drone, another round hit in their previous path. The relatively short piñon pines were sheared off at the top, a meter and a half above the ground. No Marines were hit.

“They’re herding us,” he muttered yet again.

But what could he do? Every time he tried to deviate, they were hit and forced back to what felt like a predetermined path.

Rev sometimes had the bad habit of second-guessing himself, something he’d been trying to break. But there’d been more times than not over the last three days where he’d wished he’d left those three Naxli alone. He didn’t know for sure if those pursuing them had anything to do with the three dead enemy, but his gut told him they did.

He regained control of his Marines and went back into a tactical formation—this time, a wedge. While he didn’t know from where they’d be hit, he had to be able to react to either side.

They started moving again, hugging the left side of the valley when Huck, who was visibly tiring, pointed across the valley to the right. Rev kept them going but hurried over to the Breel.

“What did you see, Huck?”

“They’re up there. Below the white rocks,” he said.

Midway down the valley, 3,300 meters away according to Rev’s inner map of the planet, a bare, white escarpment jutted out from the mountainside. Rev scanned the area but couldn’t see anything. He stopped his small force, took out his monocle, and scanned again at max magnification.

Still nothing.

“Do you see anything?” he asked Punch.

<No. There is plenty of cover there, though, that could hide a sizable unit.>

Rev put down the monocle and took in the bigger picture. The valley narrowed at that point. At about six hundred meters across, if there was an ambush site, the enemy could easily cover the entire valley floor. And there was a dearth of ground cover at the spot as well.

In other words, it was a pretty good kill zone.

“You’re sure?” he asked Huck.

“I saw four Naxli who then took cover.”

Four? Could just be an OP. But that’s bad enough.

He had to assume that a small group of Naxli, like an OP, could call for fire and bring hell’s own fury down on them. For an army that hadn’t made much use of arty or even tactics other than brute frontal assaults, the Naxli had sure shifted their tactics.

’Cause they were getting their asses kicked.

Whatever the reason, it could prove fatal to Rev and the rest.

For a moment, Rev wondered if Huck could have been mistaken. Maybe some goats or something had moved this far inland. But the Breel’s eyesight had proven itself so far, and Rev trusted the soldier.

He stared for a moment at the far end of the valley, just five klicks away. If they could reach it, then they wouldn’t be so constrained and might be able to get up to the lake.

And if you had a Buzzard, it could come and whisk us all away. Deal with what you have, Reverent.

“I guess that’s it,” he said. “Let’s look for something we can defend.”

Punch had been continually evaluating the terrain as they passed through it. Immediately, three potential spots popped up on Rev’s helmet display, all ranked according to seven criteria.

None were perfect—but then again, was there any place perfect for a military operation?

Punch ranked a small depression under a cliff face as the highest-rated spot to create a defensive position. But battles were not determined by numbers. Rev’s gut kept pulling him to a rockfall that Punch had ranked as number two.

“We’ve got movement behind us,” Corporal Aagard, who was Tail End Charlie, shouted ahead.

Shit. I was hoping we had more time.

He didn’t bother to try and spot the Naxli. They were coming, and that was that. It was decision time.

“Sergeant Koral. Head over to that rock pile. We’re making a stand.”

* * *

Rev fired a burst from his twenty and mowed down at least three Naxli. For all their increased use of tactical maneuver, now that they had the humans pinned down, they seemed to be reverting to frontal assaults.

And Rev was all for that.

The rock pile offered numerous fighting positions, and from what the Naxli had been throwing at them, the granite masses were pretty robust protection. Not even the expanding bar rounds were having much effect.

And with the lack of cover on the valley floor, the Naxli were extremely vulnerable. It was like a turkey shoot.

For now, Rev knew. Not only were more Naxli entering the valley, but the ones who’d been lying in ambush on the other side had come down to join in the assault as well. For the moment, at least, though, the humans had the upper hand.

He didn’t want to think about what would happen when they ran out of ammo. His warrior self was at the forefront, and he reveled at each invader’s death.

Another of the enemy’s new rounds exploded ten meters out from their position and about twenty to Rev’s right. The bars crashed against the rocks, pulverizing the surface into dust.

Close, but no cigars, suckers.

Not a miss, though, as a voice cried out, “T-Bone’s down. The bastards got her.”

Shit!

T-Bone was Lance Corporal Onagi, an Echo Marine and one of Kat’s running mates. Rev hoped she was WIA, not KIA, but by the nature of their positions, it would have been her head that was exposed when the Naxli round detonated.

The euphoria that had been sweeping through Rev took a nosedive. Despite their initial success in stopping the first assault, reality was setting in. There were hundreds of Naxli opposing them, and their rocky redoubt did not offer complete protection.

He turned in his hole and looked up the slope. Rev had emplaced them about a third of the way up the rockfall. Above them was a jumble of rock leading to the cliff face where the mountainside had sheared off. Instinct told him he’d liked to have his back against the cliff itself. No one was going to get to them there. But if—when—the Naxli climbed around them to gain the high ground, they could simply drop grenades or whatever they had and pick them off.

Another round burst, and shrapnel peppered the rocks with at least one piece pinging off the back of his helmet. He quickly ducked and faced the front again.

Shrapnel, and not those damn bars. Maybe they’re running low on those.

A group of half a dozen Naxli tried a concerted rush. Rev fired another burst while the Marines around him lit the enemy with their M-51s. Only one Naxli managed to retreat, ducking into a small wrinkle on the ground that Rev didn’t think could hide a mouse.

“Just keep coming like that, boys,” he muttered.

Eventually, the Naxli were going to have to make a concerted rush or try to actually maneuver, using a base of fire and attempting to come in from the flanks.

A frontal assault would be costly as long as the Marines had ammunition, but they had the bodies to make it succeed. Flanking the Marines would be difficult. The rocks would render the going tough. But a concerted base of fire would limit how effective the Marines could be in engaging them.

It could all finish with hand-to-hand combat. And when it did, the end was a foregone conclusion.

Another group of Naxli rushed forward. An intense volley of hypervelocity darts drove them back, dropping three of them. At only three hundred meters, even the older version of darts would be effective against the Naxli’s organic armor. But with the newer M-51 darts, range was not important at all, something the enemy hadn’t seemed to realize. If the dart could hit a target, the tiny warhead would drive the dart home upon impact.

“Why do they keep coming like this?” Rev muttered.

<They could be probing our positions.>

“They know where we are, Punch. They don’t need to probe.”

His battle buddy didn’t respond.

“I wonder if these are the young bucks. You know, trying to gain honor.”

Over the course of the war, the initial impression was that the Naxli were a warrior race where honor was paramount. The whole gnista and hreetz concepts seemed to point that way. That picture of them had shifted. They were fine with their warrior code when they had the advantage. But when push came to shove, they’d do what it took to win.

Not always. There was that one on Krantom, who fought me to save its fighters. But yeah, mostly.

Rev didn’t know what else was instigating these small assaults. With the initial advance thrown back, and what looked like the main body moving into position, these little rushes seemed like a waste of personnel.

The Naxli who’d somehow found cover below them got up and sprinted away. Another fusillade of probably hundreds of darts cut it down.

Then again, they might be trying to bleed us.

“Watch your ammo counts!” Rev blasted on his externals. “Don’t waste your darts.”

Kat’s squad had close to a full combat load. Koral’s? Not so much. And a Marine’s normal combat load was 10,000 darts. But when each burst fired twenty-to-thirty, that could start to deplete the load quickly.

Corporal Warrow had an M-103 but only had five of the forty-millimeter grenades left, which Rev told him to save for the Naxli’s final assault. Between Warrow and Rev, that made up the entire heavier weapons they had. Neddles had his M-49, Huck had his Breel carbine, and the rest was the M-51s.

At the thought of Huck, Rev glanced over to where the Breel was slumped, face leaning against one of the rocks giving him cover.

“You still with me, Huck?” Rev asked.

The Breel slowly turned to look at him, then said, “I’m here,” in a raspy voice.

The warrior was starving to death right in front of him. With combat rations running low, he’d refused any more, saying that with him only getting nominal nutrition from each one, they should be saved for strictly human consumption where they could do the most good.

Rev hated that. He’d grown fond of the Breel and wanted him to survive, but he had to honor his decision.

Not just Huck. I want all of us to survive.

The question was how he was going to pull that off.

* * *

“Hey, Rev. Uh . . . Gunny,” Kat said as Rev slid beside her.

There was a lull in Naxli activity, and Rev realized he could worm his way through some of the spaces within the pile of rubble without significantly exposing himself. He’d taken a couple of long-range energy shots that barely affected his shields, and he’d had a near-miss from a sniper. But the bottom line was that he wanted to see his sister again before the Naxli came in force.

“Hey there, Kitty Kat.”

“Checking up on the troops?”

“Sure. What’s your ammo count?”

“Six thousand, nineteen darts. Power’s at forty-three percent.”

“OK, now that I’ve done my SNCO duty, how’re you doing?”

She sniffed and tilted her head toward the Naxli. “When do you think they’re coming?”

“Soon. But that doesn’t answer the question, Kat.”

She paused for a moment, then said, “Surprisingly well, Rev. I’m OK with things.”

His helmet display lit up with a warning. They’d been painted with an energy beam, but it must have been a side lobe, probably reflected off of the rocks. His shielding didn’t even lose a full percent. Neither one of them even acknowledged it.

“Any chance they’ll offer the gnista thing you seem to keep getting hooked up with?” Kat asked.

The thought had crossed Rev’s mind, to be sure. But combat of champions had seemingly fallen by the wayside.

“I think it’s going to be the normal way of troops duking it out, Kat.”

She nodded as if expecting the answer.

“How do you think the family’s doing?” she asked him, shifting tack.

“I hope they got out, Kat. They had warning in Swansea. I’m sure most of the city evacuated.”

“I hope so, too,” she said, her voice cracking just a bit.

Rev glanced at her. He could just see the tear rolling down her cheek through her face shield. His heart gave a lurch.

“I’m so sorry, Kat.”

She shook her head and started to raise an arm as if to wipe away the tear, which wouldn’t work with her helmet on.

“Sorry for what?”

“You know. For encouraging you to become a Marine. You should be with Mom and Dad. Neesy, too. Safe with them, wherever they are now.”

She laughed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rev. You didn’t encourage me to become a Marine. I decided to enlist on my own.”

That took Rev aback for a moment, and the “don’t flatter yourself” sounded like an insult. He’d just assumed . . .

“I don’t mean it like that. Of course, seeing my big brother motivated me. But you were careful not to steer me anywhere. This was my choice and one I’d do again.”

“If you hadn’t enlisted, you wouldn’t be facing the entire nox army now.”

“And if you hadn’t been caught driving in an autodrive zone, you wouldn’t be either. Same thing.”

“I just . . . I just wish you’d have more . . .”

This was harder than he’d thought. He’d just come over to tell her he loved her before things went to hell.

“You’re nineteen. You deserved more time.”

“Which doesn’t make me special. There’re tens of thousands . . . hundreds of thousands of people who deserved more time. And maybe you and me, and the rest here, we’re giving some of those people that time.”

She paused and then said, “I’m on borrowed time now, Rev. So, it’s all good.”

“Borrowed time?”

“I know you and the rest of the family don’t think I remember much. ‘Too traumatic at her young age,’ the psychologist said. I heard him talking to Mom. But I do remember.”

Her voice was soft as she spoke, her eyes looking at nothing as if she was being transported back in time. Rev reached over and put a gauntleted hand on her shoulder.

“My biological parents, they were so into the angel shits, and they didn’t think twice about strapping the explosives to me,” she said, her voice hardening.

“I cried and begged them to stop. They told me it was my duty, and that I’d be going to the higher plane. But, Rev, I didn’t want to go.

“They stuck me in that building, told me to kill as many of you as I could, and then the bastards left me.”

Anger flashed through her voice, as cold as steel.

“Then a big Marine, looking like a monster in his PAL, walked in. I knew that Marine was going to kill me. I knew I was supposed to detonate the bomb, but I froze.”

Rev felt a lump expand in his throat. He knew he should stop her, but he couldn’t move.

“But the monster took me in his arms. He said it was going to be all right. And somehow, he got between the explosives and me, and he detonated them.”

Her hand reached out to stroke Pashu.

“It cost him.”

Rev moved closer and put his organic arm around her. “It didn’t cost me anything. It gave me a sister.”

“You saved my life, Rev. More than that. You, Mom, Dad, Nessy, Grover—her voice faltered over their brother’s name— “you gave me a life. More than I deserved. And that’s why I say I’m living on borrowed time. Everything since you walked into that house is a bonus.”

She tilted her head in the direction of the Naxli. “So, if this is as far as it goes, Rev, that’s OK. I wouldn’t change anything.”

It was pretty hard to hug in a PAL, and with Pashu, Rev had it even worse. But they somehow managed. Brother and sister. Fellow Marines. This was what life was about.

They just knelt there, hugging, not saying anything more. They didn’t need to. And that’s what they were doing when the first blast shook the rock pile. One after the other, the expanding bar rounds pummeled their positions, making the Marines hunker down in self-preservation.

I figured the bastards were holding some of those back.

Rev and Kat just crouched there as they were pounded. Rock dust floated down to cover them, making their PALs look like grotesque, mechanical ghosts.

Finally, the barrage lifted. Rev could hear shouts as the Naxli gave out their war cries.

“This is it, Kat.”

“Then let’s kick some nox ass, Rev!”

12

Rev fired a long burst of his twenty, then immediately switched to his beamer on guillotine mode when he realized how close the Naxli had advanced under the heavy artillery preparatory fires. His twenty had dropped three or four of the enemy, but the guillotine cut through a good six or seven.

That was about ten Naxli in the first five seconds. The problem was, it didn’t make a dent. There were hundreds of them rushing the human and Breel position, all screaming at the top of their ability as they closed in on the rockfall.

“Keep them out of the rocks!” Rev blasted over his speakers. Once they got into them, things were going to get ugly.

The Marines responded, laying down a curtain of darts that devastated the front ranks. But the darts—even the upgraded ones—were not a sure kill. Even Rev’s big twenty-millimeter slugs could be diverted by the Naxli armor. So, the wave of Naxli warriors advanced.

And not just moving forward. Enemy rounds were pinging all around the embattled Marines. Rev didn’t know if the Naxli were using a base of fire to support the assault, nor did he have time to figure it out. His job now was to kill as many of the Naxli as he could and hope for a miracle.

And if a miracle wasn’t forthcoming, then to kill as many as possible. Every dead Naxli meant one fewer to kill his fellow humans.

It was impossible to wipe out every one of them, though. They were advancing on too wide of a front, and there were too few Marines. To their right flank, several reached the rockfall.

While the rocks gave great cover once in position, they were difficult to cross. Hopping over them made the enemy targets, and the Marines started picking them off.

Rev’s IBHU was better suited to the masses of advancing Naxli, so he resisted the impulse to target the close-in enemy, trusting the other Marines to take care of business while he whittled away at the larger group.

But their own positions were being revealed, bringing in more targeted fire. Rev cut another swath through the Naxli when his alarm went full red. Rev ducked down, which broke the beam, and shifted several steps to the right.

“Where was it?”

His PAL’s sensors were not the most sophisticated known to humanity, but Punch had the ability to make some pretty radical analyses with what they measured.

<Zero-three-zero, plus or minus ten degrees. Undetermined range.>

“Time for a Moray.”

The enemy beamer could destroy the missile’s guidance system, rendering it useless. He couldn’t just fire directly at it or risk the missile.

“Pop up, look down,” he inputted into the launcher. “Let’s hope it’s not still painting us.”

Rev oriented Pashu to the azimuth, then fired the Moray at a sixty-degree elevation. Immediately, he popped up and blindly fired a burst from his twenty in the same direction, hoping that the imminent threat of the twenties would catch the enemy gunner’s attention.

He was right. Rev was immediately painted by the enemy beamer, and just as he was ducking back, he could see the Moray’s trail suddenly dive down as it locked onto the Naxli energy cannon.

“What’s the damage?” he asked Punch.

<Shields down to forty-three-point-six percent.>

“Crap. That was a pretty powerful beamer.”

“Are you OK, Rev?” Kat shouted at him.

Rev scrambled back. “I’m fine. Keep up the fire.”

He popped up again, but the beamer didn’t answer. That little duel, though, even as short as it was, had put a break in his output of heavy fire, and up and down the line, Naxli had reached the rocks.

There was one last forty-millimeter detonation, and Warrow shouted, “I’m out!”

Rev shifted his beamer to the rocks, trying to skim right over the top of them. He cut through the leg of a Naxli fighter that was jumping from one rock to the next, sending it tumbling between the rocks and out of sight, but the rest of his shot was wasted. This close in, he knew the enemy had to be individually targeted.

It took a force of will to shift back to the open area on the valley floor. At least the numbers seemed to be diminishing. They were still coming, but it wasn’t the floodgates being opened of ten minutes ago.

He tried to become a machine. Punch flashed targets of bunched-up Naxli where he could maximize his effectiveness, and he fired. Another bunch of targets, and he fired again. There was little thought, only rote motion working on muscle memory.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Naxli rise up just in front of them, but Kat dropped it. He had to trust her to cover him. To his left, he could hear the grunts of a struggle. The Naxli were in the lines. A Marine in a PAL was more than a match for any Naxli, but Neddles, Ingot, and Huck didn’t have that protection.

He gave a quick glance to the left, where Huck was now slumped motionless at the bottom of his fighting position. Rev couldn’t tell if he’d been killed or if he’d collapsed from weakness.

As he swung back to the front, motion on his right grabbed his attention. In that short amount of time, two Naxli had vaulted over the rocks in front of them and were on Kat. His little sister had one Naxli clamped in her arms and was swinging him around like a shield while the other was firing at her.

Rev just reacted. He extended his blade from Pashu’s twenty-millimeter cannon’s muzzle and lunged. The blade took the unsuspecting alien at the base of its neck, just below the brim of its helmet. Like a marionette with its strings cut, the enemy fighter collapsed.

“Thanks, big brother,” Kat said as she tossed the very dead Naxli in her grasp back over the rocks.

Then, as if it were just another day at the office, no big deal, she started firing again.

<You might want to join her,> Punch reminded him.

Quickly, Rev resumed his position. Three Naxli were climbing together onto the first rocks at the bottom. A single beam sliced each of them in two.

<Power is at twenty-six-point-four percent.>

Almost as if in a state of denial, Rev had been ignoring his power icon. If he didn’t see it, then his power was fine, right? Trust Punch to keep him informed, though.

“It’s better than my twenties’ count,” he muttered as he switched and fired another burst from the cannon.

He still had five Morays, but they were not suited for this type of target. It might get down to that, though—his Morays and his blade. Too many Naxli had reached the rockfall and were trying to close in.

Something big slammed into Rev’s helmet, staggering him. The blow was so hard that the impact gel deployed for a moment before being sucked away.

“What the hell was that?” he asked as he struggled to get back up.

<Your helmet is compromised.>

“How about my shielding?” he asked as he regained his position and targeted two more Naxli, who, through the remnants of the gel on his display, were more like fuzzy shadows.

A PAL’s shielding was projected from a web embedded in the combat suit’s skin. The web had a redundant design so that the PAL could be breached and the shielding would still work.

<Fifty-three-point-two percent.>

Rev grunted in response. The shielding had been damaged as well, but it was working.

Light was coming in the side of his helmet, and coupled with the gel that hadn’t completely been evacuated, it made his vision blurry.

“Screw it.”

With a quick motion, he released his helmet and tossed it. The shielding would still help protect him from energy weapons, even if not from shrapnel. He’d just put himself at greater risk, but he couldn’t fight if he couldn’t see.

Punch reacted immediately, running the battle data directly to his visual cortex. Rev didn’t hesitate. Years of training made the transition seamless. And in a way, it was freeing. The sunshine and breeze on his face gave him a sense of intimacy with the battle. He let his warrior self gain more control, and what bordered on joy swept through him.

Rev might be facing his last moments in this corporeal plane, but it felt right. This was what he was meant to do—fight to protect his planet with family at his side.

“You doing OK? Kat!” he shouted as he targeted another Naxli.

If she was surprised to hear his real, unamplified voice, she didn’t show it.

“Just killing vermin, Rev, and having fun!”

A round hit him in the shoulder, and his shield alarm went off again, but he ignored them. He didn’t want to have any ammunition left when he finally fell.

The clap from above broke through his fighting trance.

“Bastards! What happened to your warrior creed? You need air to take us out?” he screamed at the Naxli.

Rev had accepted that he was going to go down, but the thought of being vaporized by a Naxli ground attack craft drove him to the edge of berserker-level rage.

“I’ve got something for that, though,” he said as he tried to spot the Naxli plane.

He readied a Moray. The Naxli had rarely used aircraft of any kind, and Rev didn’t know how effective a Moray would be against one, but he wasn’t going to meekly accept his destiny. The bastard up there was going to have to earn the kill.

And then he spotted it, a tiny speck high in the air and well past the opposite hills. Without his helmet, he couldn’t zoom in, but he could tell that it was probably beyond his Moray’s range.

Still, it was worth a try. He locked in the target and was about to fire when the craft turned slightly, giving Rev a better view.

<Don’t fire!> Punch said at the same instant that Rev recognized a Shrike fighter.

Hope flooded through him as four more appeared in sight.

“Over here!” he shouted as if they could hear him.

Cheers—too few of them—erupted from the others as they recognized the fighters.

But the Shrikes kept flying—away from them. They were not coming to their rescue, and cheers turned to groans and shouts of anger.

Two rounds slammed into Revs chest and side, and red alarms flashed. He’d stood up too high in his excitement. There might be Shrikes joining the fight, which had to mean a rescue force had arrived, but the Marines were still engaged.

Rev’s PAL was damaged, and while Punch tried to reroute control systems, Rev’s mobility was compromised. Two Naxli seemed to realize that, and they charged him from the right.

Pashu had her own movement controls, separate from the PAL’s, but he couldn’t get her around far enough to engage them. His head was free of his PAL, and he craned it around to take in the enemy. He tried to use his legs to rotate his body to the right, but they were balky, and he didn’t need Punch to tell him he was going to be too slow.

A flash went past him. Like a madman, Neddles had popped out of his position and bounded over the rocks, screaming at the top of his lungs and firing his M-49.

The darts hit the nearest Naxli, the impacts marked by the flashes of the boosters. The ferocity of the attack made the alien fighter hesitate, then one of the darts burned through, and the Naxli collapsed.

Rev was still rotating in a sidestep motion, his feet moving centimeters at a time. His eyes were locked on the second Naxli. The fighter had hesitated for just a moment when its buddy went down, and then with a palpable fury, it drew down on Rev. No sword this time. No bravado. It just wanted to kill him.

But that anger gave it tunnel vision. Flashes hit it from two sides as both Kat and Neddles riddled it. The Naxli shuddered a weird, disjointed dance as one or more darts burned through.

Rev’s agonizing slow-motion turn brought him far enough around for him to be able to bring up Pashu, but it was OBE. Both of them were dead.

There were a lot more targets out there. As Neddles dived for cover between him and Kat, Rev was already engaging more of the enemy. Punch kept pursuing the rerouting, but Pashu was in full working order.

He ignored his dwindling round count. When he was out, he was out. He still had power for his beamer, and as long as he could fight, he’d fight.

But after a few minutes, he realized that the tempo of the fight was slowing down. There were still Naxli who’d reached the rockfall, but those remaining on the valley floor didn’t seem to be advancing. The Marines were still taking fire, but not in the intense, base-of-fire mode.

Ten minutes later, it was obvious that the Naxli were trying to retreat. It was only the marksmanship of the infantry Marines that was stopping them. Any time one tried to go back, it was dropped.

“Studevent’s down!” someone shouted from the far left.

The Naxli might not be pressing the attack, but Marines were still falling.

Rev decided to take a chance, one that could backfire on them. But as they say, “Fortune favors the bold.”

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” he screamed at the top of his voice. “Only fire to protect yourself.”

The order was repeated down the line, even if the voices weren’t sounding too sure of it. Too few voices.

If the Naxli wanted to withdraw, Rev was more than willing to let them. And he’d also considered that maybe the Naxli had been simply trying to get the humans to expend their ammunition. Either way, a cease-fire was the way to go, in his mind. He could always start up again if needed.

The incoming fire continued for a few minutes before petering out. Then silence reigned. Rev kept watching the sky for Shrikes, but it was as if the planet had been abandoned. A few birds even started singing again.

When the first Naxli rose out from its crevice in the rocks, Rev had to resist the urge to drop it.

“Hold your fire!” he warned.

The Naxli ran as if the devil was after it. Rev wasn’t sure he’d ever seen one of the aliens run away, and he rather enjoyed the sight. It felt almost surreal to him. The Naxli always pushed forward, always were on the offensive. He didn’t understand what was happening, but he wasn’t going to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

After the first one made it clear, several more went. And when they made it, the flood started.

Rev was shocked at how many of the enemy had been within the 150 meters of rockfall between the Marines and the valley floor. By the time it was over, Punch said there were 242, the best he could tell. All against . . .

“Give me a head count!” Rev shouted.

“Left to right.”

He didn’t want to reveal their strength, but he had to know.

“Hughes,” came from the far left.

“Studevent,” was barely audible.

Studevent had been hit, so just hearing his voice was a relief.

“Ingot.”

There was silence, and Rev realized that must be all there were to his left. That meant the next was Huck, if the Breel soldier was still alive.

“Huck,” Rev said, then “Pelletier.”

“Neddles.”

“Pelletier.”

“Winterspan.”

“Koral.”

Then there was silence.

Eight Marines? That’s all?

“Check on the Marine next to you,” Rev said.

He exchanged looks with Kat. The happy-go-lucky façade she’d been presenting was gone, replaced by shell shock as everything sunk in.

“Why’d they quit on us?” she asked in a quiet, little-girl voice.

“I don’t know, Kat. But we’ve got to be ready for when they come back.”

“They’re not coming back, Gunny,” Neddles, who was between them, said.

Rev gave the Ninety-nine a long look. His utilities were tattered and torn, but despite not being in a PAL, he looked untouched.

The Gods of War are fickle, I guess.

“Thanks for saving my ass, first and foremost. But how do you know they’re not reforming to hit us again?”

“The Shrikes. They saw them, too. And they know the cavalry’s here. The battle for Safe Harbor is essentially over.”

“He’s right,” Kat said.

Rev looked out over the valley floor. He could see movement, but it didn’t look like a unit preparing for an assault.

Maybe he’s right?

He didn’t know how to take that, though. He’d been more than willing to let them retreat if that meant more of his Marines would live, at least for the moment. But if they were giving up the fight and trying to get away, well, that wouldn’t do.

The assholes had invaded Safe Harbor. His home!

They’d killed tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of people. Rev didn’t know if his family was OK. He didn’t know if Tomiko was still alive. Anger started its slow burn, washing away the relief that had begun to settle in.

The Naxli couldn’t be allowed to just escape.

He’d let one unit escape, back on Krantom, when he’d been maneuvered into gnista. His opponent thought it would defeat Rev, and that didn’t happen. But while Rev had been tricked into the agreement that he’d let the rest of the Naxli get away, he still honored that.

Mostly, that was.

He’d let them get away, but he later told the command where they’d gone. He never found out what had happened after that, though.

Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice . . .

He wanted every single one of the Naxli in the valley to die. Call it revenge. Call it making sure that they couldn’t fight humans again. He didn’t care. As long as they were dead.

“How’s Huck?” Neddles asked, breaking through Rev’s thoughts.

Rev’s PAL wasn’t fully up to speed, but he had a little more mobility as Punch continued to do his thing. He sidled over to the Breel and knelt.

Huck’s respiratory fronds were fluttering just the slightest bit. That wasn’t good, but at least he was alive. Rev couldn’t see any overt wounds. It looked like he’d just collapsed.

“Can he really just starve to death that quickly?” he asked Punch.

<Their metabolism is much higher than a human’s. It is possible.>

It didn’t seem right to Rev. The Breel weren’t called ents for nothing. They resembled sentient trees, and to Rev, a tree had a long, slow metabolism.

But he guessed that was a mistake to try and saddle an alien being with human assumptions. The Toan, after all, looked nothing like humans, but they were the most similar to them of all the alien races.

“Does anyone have any more combat rats?” he called out.

He received a chorus of nos.

A human could go weeks without food, if necessary, as long as they had water, so Rev wasn’t too worried about the Marines. But he was hoping that with Huck seemingly unconscious, he could force one down his . . . yes, friend.

<You do have food. The snacks from Reggie’s Crossing,> Punch reminded him.

“Which are probably poisoned.”

<Probably is not a certainty. I don’t think PFC Hukabodna has much time left.>

Rev looked out over the valley again. Even if the Naxli had pulled back, the Marines weren’t in the clear. And he had no way to call in a CASEVAC for the Breel. Punch was right.

Rev reached into his thigh holder and pulled out a pack of Orange Fluffs. They were somewhat smashed, but the pack was intact.

“What was that thing about rubbing your lips on something to see if you could eat it?”

<That is the first step in determining if something is poisonous.>

“Would that work for something if the noxes, you know, boobytrapped the food?”

<It could detect something in that case. But it wouldn’t be a guarantee. There are many poisonous substances that are indetectable to human taste and smell.>

“What about you. Could you analyze something if I rubbed it on my lips?”

<No. You don’t have the sensing devices for that.>

Rev stared at the pack for a long moment, then said, “Screw it.”

He opened it and removed the first fluff. He’d liked them as a kid, but he didn’t think he’d eaten one in ten years. Tentatively, he took a sniff. The familiar fake-orange smell filled his senses, bringing back memories that he’d forgotten he had.

Smelling isn’t enough. Just do it.

Rev raised the fluff and lightly rubbed it over his lips. The taste was exactly as he remembered it. He found himself salivating. Importantly, there was no burning.

<A Breel’s metabolism is not the same as a human’s. Even if it isn’t poisonous to you, it could be to him.>

“But why would the noxes set up something that would kill a Breel on Safe Harbor and not a human?”

Punch didn’t answer, something he’d taken to doing on the rare occasions when Rev proved him wrong.

But it was still a valid point, so with Neddles and Kat intently watching him, he took the fluff and rubbed it on the edge of what served as both a mouth and a nose on the alien.

There was no reaction.

“How do I know if it burns him? He’s unconscious.”

<I don’t know of a way.>

“Let’s wait a few minutes.”

Koral came back. Studevent was in bad shape, and his nanobots were working overtime on him. If he could get to a medical facility, he should make it.

Warrow and Sanders were KIA, but they probably had a good chance of resurrection—once again, if they could be evacuated. Both had their zombie sticks activated. The rest of the dead were beyond resurrection.

Another surge of anger pulsed through Rev. But he told the sergeant to make sure someone had eyes on the valley at all times before he turned back to the Breel.

There was no real change in the soldier. If anything, the fluttering of his fronds was even less. Rev didn’t know if that was because of the Orange Fluff or because he was just fading even more.

“What should I do?”

<SOP is to go through the entire procedure, and I can give you the steps.>

“But does he have that time?”

<I can’t say with any degree of certainty, but it would not seem so.>

Rev glanced at Kat, but she just looked back at him without saying anything.

This is on you, Reverent.

With a sigh, Rev removed the seven remaining fluffs. Huck needed nourishment, and he needed it now. The fluffs were full of sugar, and maybe that could help the Breel.

Then there was the problem of getting them into Huck. He needn’t have been concerned. As he stuffed the snacks into his mouth, the Breel’s throat seemed to automatically constrict, and the fluffs disappeared.

“In for a penny,” he said.

He took all of the fluffs that he had, then grabbed the ones Neddles had been carrying and fed them into the Breel’s mouth.

“What about the Sunshines?” Neddles asked.

“Let’s wait on those.”

He finished by pouring a little of his PAL’s water into the Breel’s mouth. He’d just leaned back when his comms connection icon turned green.

It took a moment for it to register. The placement of the icon was slightly different than when he had on his helmet display, and he hadn’t had comms for so long that he’d almost forgotten what the icon was for.

“I’ve got comms!” Kat said as Rev grabbed his discarded helmet. He yanked out the throat mic and connected it into his jack.

“Uh . . . someone out there. This is Gunnery Sergeant Reverent Pelletier. Please say you hear me!”

“Gunny, this is Task Force Gremlin. Please stand by as we complete the re-establishment of communications. Your position is being noted.”

“But we’ve got—”

The link was cut. Not killed. Comms were still open. Just the conversation.

Rev didn’t know what TF Gremlin was, but it sounded great. And he knew that with the connection open, he could establish a Priority 1 message, but he needed to compose himself first.

“We’ve got comms,” he told Kat and Neddles. “There’s a task force here.”

“When are they coming?” Neddles asked.

“Don’t know. But they’re here. Kat, get Koral.”

“Gunny? The noxes are up to something,” Hughes, who was watching the Naxli, called out.

Not now!

Rev stood and leaned forward, ready to declare a Priority 1 and get some help. To go this far, with rescue so close, and have the Naxli conduct their final assault, was something that surely even the Gods of War wouldn’t inflict on them.

The Naxli weren’t assaulting, but they were up to something. At least four hundred were converging in the center of the valley, forming a half-circle that spanned the creek. The open side of the circle faced the Marines, with the edges just a hundred meters from the rock face.

“What are they doing?” Kat said as she took a position beside him.

Koral had come in after her and was using his monocle to glass the area.

Rev didn’t need his monocle. He recognized what was happening. And after several minutes, as expected, a single Naxli emerged and marched across the open area of the circle. It stopped just short of the rockface.

“I, Uton L’notu Vizito, of the Hral, challenge the human Pelletier to gnista.”

The fact that the Naxli knew who Rev was and that he was there was a shock to him. It was a little hard to take, in fact. But his warrior self stirred, and his competitive side took over.

<It is of the same clan as the Naxli on Krantom.>

Which means it’s part of a more traditional clan, Rev noted to himself.

His PAL was balky, but he managed to climb on top of one of the rocks.

“No, Rev. You can’t,” Kat said, pulling on his leg.

Rev ignored her.

“Your PAL. And you have no helmet!”

He still didn’t respond to her.

“I’m a Pelletier. Let me go instead!” she almost cried.

“It wants me. I’ve got this.”

Without his helmet, Rev didn’t have his loudspeaker. It didn’t matter. He knew the Naxli—all of them—could hear.

“What are your terms?”

“You and me,” the Naxli said. “I offer gnista.”

Rev had heard this refrain before.

“You have killed thousands of my people. Not warriors. Civilians. And now that our task force has arrived, you beg for gnista? Is this the way of the Hral?”

Rev had seen the Naxli bristle at the word “beg.”

It said, “I cannot speak to the death of hreetz.”

Which wasn’t a denial, Rev noticed.

“But you are not hreetz. You are gnist. And in your heart, I know burns the warrior spirit, the one that demands trial, warrior against warrior.”

The sucker knows the real me.

Rev’s warrior self was pushing hard against his restraint. He wanted nothing else than to fight the Naxli champion. He wanted to pulverize it in front of all the rest. His overwhelming anger demanded no less.

“And the rest of you? You aren’t all of those who’ve invaded my home. What of them?”

“I can only speak of myself and those with me here. This is how it should be.”

Rev stared at the Naxli, standing so arrogantly below him. It was so sure of itself, so sure of its superiority. It didn’t dawn on him that Rev, even with a damaged PAL, would destroy it. He’d done it before, and every ounce of his being cried out to do it again.

“Task Force Gremlin, this is Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier, First Human Expeditionary Battalion. Priority 1 message.”

With that magic word, the comms AI routed him to a real person.

“Go ahead, Gunny.”

“I’ve got five hundred noxes congregated in a nice school circle. Are you interested?”

“What’s their position?”

“You’ve got mine, right? Center mass is two hundred meters, zero-three-zero from my present position. Just don’t hit me in the head.”

“Wait one, Gunny.”

“I don’t have much time.”

Rev stood there, staring down at the Naxli champion.

Time ticked on until the Naxli’s patience was at an end.

“What is your response?” it shouted.

Rev said nothing as he tried to will the task force back on the net.

The Naxli made a show of turning around and looking at its fighters. It slowly came back to Rev.

“Are you hreetz after all? I had heard of you, but it seems that was lies.”

And miraculously, the voice on the other end of the net said, “Gunny, we’ve got a Big Brother maneuvering into position. Impact in forty-three seconds. Uh . . . that’s with a Hellcaster. That’s danger close, big time. I suggest you find yourself some deep cover.”

Rev turned to the Marines behind him and said, “Get everyone under cover. It’s gonna get real hot in thirty seconds.”

He made a show of moving to the next rock, mentally counting down the time.

“You have killed civilians on my planet. My home. In my code, that does not make you gnist. It makes you hreetz. And I do not honor gnista with hreetz.”

As it heard the accusations, the Naxli took two steps forward in anger.

But Rev stood tall as he watched as the fires of hell descended to scour the valley of the rot that infested it.

13

“Think they’ll make it?” Kat asked as the Buzzard lifted off the devastated landscape, its fanjets creating little smoke devils that followed the bird until it gained enough altitude.

“Studevent? Sure. As for the rest? Well, that’ll take the docs to figure out. It’s only been seven hours, so they’ve got a chance.”

“And Huck?”

“He’s still breathing. Maybe he got something out of the Orange Fluffs after all.”

“That’s about the only thing anyone ever got out of one of those things,” Kat muttered under her breath.

“Kat! I’m gonna have to take away your Safe Harbor citizenship. Orange Fluffs are great!”

His sister shook her head. “Those things are sickeningly sweet, Rev. I swear, I don’t understand you people.”

“You people? I thought you were proud of being one of us.”

“Not if I have to eat one of those things.”

“You just have an unsophisticated palate, Kat.”

She snorted so hard that a bit of snot flew out and plastered itself against the inside of her face shield.

Rev held back a laugh while her shield self-cleaned and turned instead to the retreating CASEVAC. They watched the Buzzard until it was out of sight. It was a relief to get the wounded and dead out of there. He’d fretted for the seven hours as the clock ticked, knowing that every hour put Warrow and Sanders more and more at risk of failing resurrection. But with a full-out counterinvasion going on, he realized they were somewhat down the priority list.

Frankly, he was surprised that they’d gotten the fire mission. There couldn’t have been many Big Brother monitors in position already to provide ground support.

Without his helmet, the acrid dust bit at his nasal passages. Rev had his annual boost against allergies, but this was different. The Hellcaster had broken molecules apart, leaving ionized particles in the air. Rev gave a loud sneeze that rocked his body and hurt his neck. When he was hit in the helmet, he thought he’d escaped without much of a consequence, but over the ensuing hours, his neck had begun to ache. Punch had given his medinanos instructions to secrete a mild anti-inflammatory, but that was about the limit of what Rev was willing to accept until they made it to a unit somewhere.

He twisted his head back and forth, then made a slow scan of the valley. The far end was still pristine, but from the edge of the rockfall and reaching out for about a klick, there was not much left. Wisps of smoke were still rising, and small fires were popping up here and there, only to quickly go out.

One advantage of a Hellcaster was that the intense power destroyed most of what it hit, so there wasn’t much fuel left to burn. That meant there wasn’t a huge risk of wildfires wrecking the rest of the valley.

Kat saw him looking. “This was such a pretty place when we got here. It seems something of a shame.”

“No place is pretty enough for me to want to die there, Kat. Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

He gave Neddles a wave, and the three headed back to their positions.

Most of the Naxli had been vaporized. But Rev’s challenger, being right at the edge of the rockfall, had escaped the full force of the beam. It didn’t make much of a difference when all was said and done. The Naxli was dead, even if the body hadn’t been converted into its component atoms.

Rev barely gave the lump that had once been a Naxli leader a glance as they walked past it.

They climbed back up to the other Marines.

“What’s the scoop? Koral asked.

“No lift for at least two days,” Rev said as he and Neddles passed out the combat rats, darts, and powerpacks the Buzzard had left. It didn’t have twenty-millimeter rounds, no big surprise, but with the powerpacks, Rev had a lot more beamer shots available to him.

“So, we wait here?”

“I got in contact with my company. They’re forming about eighteen klicks from here. I’ve been told to head over there if I think it’s safe.”

“And Echo?”

Rev shook his head. The sergeant had tried to contact his company after the battle but failed. Rev had asked Alpha to try and use the chain of command to try and find out what Echo’s status was, but so far, he hadn’t heard back. And as they weren’t in imminent danger of being attacked, he couldn’t go to Priority 1 and ask the task force.

The sergeant slumped inside his PAL. “So, are you leaving us to get back to your unit?”

Rev wasn’t part of Echo, so he didn’t have to stick with them. But they’d fought together, and that was a bond that didn’t rely on some headquarters’ Table of Organization.

“I think I’ll stick with you until we can get things straightened out.”

“We could go with you to Alpha Company,” Kat said.

Rev gave her a piercing stare. She knew that he was worried about Tomiko, but still, for a lance corporal to offer something like that when a sergeant was right there was pushing the envelope.

Koral seemed to consider it, though.

“Would you be OK with that? The Marines might be here, but the planet isn’t pacified yet, and I’d feel a hell of a lot better with a unit,” he asked.

Rev looked at Neddles, who shrugged and said, “I’m not staying if you guys go.”

“You’re right about the noxes still fighting. And there may still be more of them than there are of us. We just don’t know. So, if we go, we might run into some of them. And I’m out of twenties. Are you OK with that?”

“And a division of noxes might be heading down this valley right now, Gunny. But eighteen klicks? We can do that in three hours if we push,” Koral said.

Not with Neddles. He’s not in a PAL.

“Five hours, maybe, but your point’s taken. So, you’re all up for this?”

“Take us out of here, Gunny.”

Rev looked each in the eye. No one objected.

“Then let’s move out.”

He mouthed a “thank you” to Kat as they stepped off.

* * *

Rev was nervous as they approached the RP/CP. Comms were still up but limited to Priority 1 and 2 messaging until more capacity could be added. The Naxli were still trying to jam the system, but their efforts were simply being overwhelmed by brute force.

He’d been able to contact Alpha under Priority 2. He hadn’t tried to sneak in a P2P to Tomiko, though. Only part of that was due to the limit to Priority 2. The other part was from fear of no response. While there could be many reasons for her being still alive and not being able to communicate, he’d freak out, fearing the worst.

He kept telling himself it was the coward’s way out, but he still stayed off the net as they made their way to the RP. It only took four hours. Neddles could really move when he had to, even without a PAL. It would have been more tactically sound to march slower, but the anxiety level was building, and that gave them all a bit of an extra oomph.

That anxiety level rose as they got closer, and still higher when Lance Corporal Tan, from Third Platoon, who was on OP, said, “Gunny Pelletier. Good to see you made it!”

The lance corporal then looked at the others and frowned. Her eyes lingered on Neddles, who squirmed a bit under the disapproving gaze.

“They’re all with me. What’s the procedure here?”

“Uh . . . I guess they need to check in. Staff Sergeant Amos is handling that. All of the other SNCOs are with the skipper now, though. I guess that’ll be for you.”

The question Rev wanted to ask was on the tip of his tongue, but he held back. He wasn’t sure why.

<This is not logical. Just ask.>

“You don’t understand.”

<You’re right. I don’t.>

They entered the RP, and Rev spotted Amos. He brought the Echo Company Marines and Neddles to him. “Take care of them, Dant. They stay with us until we find their company or they get orders.”

“Got it, Gunny.”

“Where’s the skipper?”

The staff sergeant jerked a thumb back over his shoulder. “Back there.”

Rev turned to Koral and said, “Get checked in, and Staff Sergeant Amos will take care of you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The sergeant reached out and grabbed Rev’s right arm, forearm to forearm. “Thank you, Gunny. We wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“And I wouldn’t have made it without you, either, Franz.”

He broke away and headed in the direction Amos had given. He spotted the other SNCOs quickly. His eyes were looking for a particular Marine, though, as they turned to see him approach.

He didn’t see her among the other dozen or so Marines, and he started to panic . . . that is until Tomiko leaned forward around Kelly.

Protocol be damned. Rev broke into a limping run, brushed past the others who were trying to welcome him, and picked Tomiko up off the ground, giving her a PAL hug.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you,” he whispered.

“Me, too, Rev.”

Behind him, in a wry voice, Captain White Eagle said, “We’re happy to see you, too, Gunny. But if you’re done greeting your fellow gunny in a most inappropriate manner, maybe we can work on our op order?”

* * *

The cavalry had indeed landed, but the battle wasn’t over. At least 140,000 Naxli were still on the planet, with over half on this continent. And while many seemed dispirited, and some even surrendered, the rest seemed willing to die for their cause.

The human forces kept building up. It wasn’t just Union Marines. Frisian, Hégémonie, Concordat, and Paxus units joined the fight. No MDS. They were still in a pitched battle on Alabaster.

No alien allies, either, much to Rev’s disappointment. As far as he knew, the Breel company made up the only allies on the planet.

Echo Company was no longer a fighting unit. A few scattered Marines had managed to survive, but most of the company’s Marines had been killed during two major battles.

That left Kat’s squad without a home. So, they were ordered to stay with Alpha until after the battle was finally won.

Neddles was a different case. Initially, he was mostly ignored. But after Rev told the others about his actions—with only slight embellishments—the Ninety-nine Marine was welcomed with open arms. The PFC’s personality had a lot to do with that, too. And he was made an honorary member of the battalion.

Even Captain White Eagle asked Rev if he should put in a request for Neddles to join the company when all of this was said and done.

Alpha was in only two more skirmishes with the Naxli, neither being a major battle. The company had lost a third of its troopers, and with more units arriving each day, the company was shunted to a less exposed position.

Rev didn’t think it was strictly because of their losses. Troopers from every contributing nation had been lost, and he thought that the powers that be wanted to minimize any more from the ranks. Safe Harbor was a Union planet, and despite all the other militaries sending units into the fray, First Human had its political purpose as well.

Rev spent time catching up with his friends. Bob, over in Third Platoon, had been in the thick of things and was wounded, but the Frisian was recovering nicely. Yancey and Hussein had made it through, but Rantz was MIA.

Tsao was alive and well, but Strap was badly wounded right as the counterassault commenced. He’d been CASEVAC’d with a good shot at a full recovery and return to combat duty, though. Inikin and Günther had been killed, and Archambault was MIA.

From the rest of the IBHUs, only Randigold and Cocker from First Platoon were still combat-effective. Nnadi had been killed, and while some of the information was spotty, Rev didn’t think he’d made it to a resurrection facility.

Rev felt a deep loss for all those killed. They were his brothers and sisters in arms. The visceral hatred he had for the Naxli only grew with each passing day.

And what made it worse, the thing that increased his brooding, was that they had next to no information as to the civilian population. He had no idea where his family was. The rumor mill was running rampant. Millions had been killed. Most of the people had gotten off the planet. The Naxli had taken prisoners again. Every day, a new rumor swept through the company.

At least he had Kat and Tomiko. All of the company was his family, but these two were more than that, and they kept him sane.

Forty-three days after the counterassault began, Safe Harbor was declared secure.

The battle was over.

14

“I bet you never thought your training mission would end up like this,” Rev told Hoolan.

“As you humans like to say, ‘No shit, Sherlock.’”

Rev burst into laughter, then immediately apologized. “Sorry, I know this isn’t a time for levity.”

“It’s a perfect time. What else can a warrior hope for but to fall in battle before growing old, and then to be honored by your brothers in arms?” the Breel warrant officer/gunnery sergeant asked as he stretched out a branchlike arm toward the opened back of the shuttle.

Inside were the bodies of the fifty-one Breel who’d died defending the planet. By acclamation, the battalion had insisted on a Heroes’ Flight for them. Safe Harbor may not have been taken back with the help from the rest of their alien allies, but this company had fought valiantly, and half of them had paid the ultimate price. The human troopers were not going to let the dead be simply loaded on the shuttle that was going to take the Breel company off-planet to start their journey home.

Huck wasn’t one of the dead. He’d somehow managed to stay alive until he was given proper Breel food, and he recovered in a surprisingly short amount of time. Rev and the Breel soldier had a heartfelt goodbye before the formation.

The Breel had been intrigued by the ceremony. They had their own traditions concerning their fallen soldiers, but they seemed to be moved during the roll call, where each name was announced three times, then the date when they were killed was announced.

There’s something to be said for falling in battle. But I’d rather watch my grandkids grow and hang out at the GFW in my old age, telling war stories to my buddies.

“We appreciate the opportunity to participate in this custom. It was most enlightening.”

“But you said you have your own ceremonies, right? That will happen for those who were killed after you get home, right?”

The Breel gave their head-shake equivalent of a shrug. “Ceremony doesn’t quite describe it. More like traditions. But yes, we will honor those traditions after returning each of those who fell to their home soil.”

For a moment, Rev wanted to pursue just what those traditions were, but he let it go. He’d ask Punch later.

Hoolan looked down at his chest, then flicked the medal hanging there with a long finger.

“You humans have many traditions that are odd, yet compelling.”

The Breel might have been intrigued by the Heroes’ Flight ceremony, but they seemed to be even more fascinated by the awarding of Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medals to each member of the platoon, both alive and dead. The Breel didn’t have military medals in the human sense of them. They had some way to honor bravery and outstanding service, but it was more like humans adding titles to a warrior’s name. The Standard term they used when describing it was “anointed,” even if the xeno folks didn’t think that actually hit the nail on the head.

The medals probably weren’t even official. A commendation medal was the highest award a battalion commander could bestow, but Lieutenant Colonel Caplan wasn’t serving as the CO of a Marine unit. Any awards should technically be CoH Home Guard medals, not Union Marine. With the Breel leaving, there just hadn’t been time to try and navigate that pipeline, especially as there was still fighting going on in the broader attacks on Alabaster and Yamoussoukro.

It had been Kelly who’d come up with the idea the evening before as they moved back into what was left of Camp Reyes. Later, when word came down that transport had been arranged for the Breel the next day, things went into overdrive. The CO agreed, and while a printer was found that could spit out the certificates, all military medals were cast in the old techniques. A rushed search was made to locate over a hundred medals that had survived the destruction. Third Mech, which was the nearest unit to Reyes, came up with most of them—eighteen were donated by Marines whose quarters had not been destroyed. In the end, thirty-some-odd medals were printed as well.

“We have an old general from back when we were still limited to our home planet. He said once, ‘A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon.’”

“Why, though? Fight to defend your land and people. Fight for conquest. Fight to stay alive. But a piece of cloth that has no purpose?”

Rev opened his mouth with a glib reply on the tip of his tongue, then stopped.

Yeah, why?

He knew why in his gut, but he wasn’t sure how to articulate it. And this wasn’t because of his sometimes-faulty memory. It was just a difficult concept.

<It’s not the ribbon but what it represents,> Punch prompted.

“The ribbon and the medal hanging from it are nothing, my friend. It’s what they say about you. It’s an acknowledgment that your peers respect what you’ve done in combat.”

“I don’t understand. It’s interesting, but it’s still just a bit of cloth and a chunk of metal.”

“You add things to a soldier’s name, right? I mean, when they do something amazing or heroic.”

“That is true. They earn the honorific, and that lets the civilians know who to respect, who is a good person to share genes with.”

<He’s talking about who gets laid.>

“Punch!”

He took a moment to choose his phrasing. “It’s the same thing. Not about the fertilizing thing, maybe. Except we don’t change our names. We use a medal instead. It’s not that the medal has value as an object, but what it represents.”

“Ah, Reverent Pelletier. It’s a symbol. It’s your . . .” he said, the last sounding something between a groan and a whistle that evidently didn’t have a direct translation into Standard.

“Exactly,” Rev said, hoping that the word described what he was saying.

“Will it increase your chances to procreate more?”

“No!”

<Well, potentially, depending on who you are with.>

Evidently, in the Breel universe, performing well in battle improved your chances to make little Breel. It wasn’t that weird of a concept from a Darwinian perspective. The best and the brightest reproduced. It just seemed to him a little, well, shallow?

Then again, there were, as Yancey could attest to, military groupies who liked to troll among those in uniform. But maybe unfortunately, a hefty credit balance, a hit song, or a sports championship, went a lot further than having a Gold Nova on your chest in attracting a potential partner.

The warrant officer looked at the medal again, examining it closer. “It is an odd custom, but I think I understand its relevance. And I’m honored. I’ll be sure to explain it to everyone.”

“Gunny!” Corporal Delacruz said as he hurried up. “The Four says it’s time to get them all aboard. The shuttle’s got other missions.”

It had been surprising that the command had even sprung this one free. With the spaceports down, it was up to shuttles and ships that could land on the planet to start resupplying both the military and civilians.

Around them, Breel were moving toward the back ramp.

Hoolan started to turn, but Rev grabbed him by the arm. “Look, I just wanted to say we’re all grateful to you. This wasn’t your fight, and none of our allies came to help. But you did.”

“Our enemies are the Naxli. They came here. What else could we do, especially for those who came to our aid on Grum.”

Rev dropped his hold on the Breel’s arm. “Grum? You know about that?”

He’d never mentioned the fight to free the Breel prisoners on the planet.

“How could we not know? You are well-known throughout our armed forces, Gunnery Sergeant Strong Bough Reverent Pelletier.”

With that, he stepped off to join the rest of the Breel as they loaded the shuttle.

Rev just stared at Hoolan’s back for a long moment.

“Strong Bough?”

<I think you’ve been anointed.>

15

“I’m sure they evacuated, Rev,” Tomiko said as they stood on the street.

Rev’s home, where he’d grown up, was little more than scattered pieces. He didn’t know what had hit the neighborhood, but it had been something big, flattening almost the entire block. He didn’t need to be a forensic expert to understand that if anyone had been here when it was hit, they wouldn’t have survived.

There was a hollow feeling in his gut as if nothing about this was real. He should be angry. He should be grieving. But there was nothing. He was an empty husk.

What seemed to register the most at the moment was the smell. They were still in their PALs—although the battle was over, and the planet had officially been declared secure, they were still technically in combat status as the planet was swept for Naxli stragglers—but their helmets were off and attached to their combat harness. There was an acrid undertone that bit at his nose. The rest was a stew of burnt plastic, smoke, and . . . death.

He hoped that last was more imagination than anything concrete.

“Still nothing in the refugee rosters?” he asked Punch.

<I’m constantly getting updates. I’ll tell you the moment their names are added. But I’ll remind you that this is still in the early stages. Very few people have been processed through the camps so far.>

Kat picked her way through the rubble back to them. She held out a knife to Rev.

“It’s her gyuto,” she said. “I found it just sitting there.”

Rev didn’t know exactly what constituted a gyuto. He knew that after his mother had taken up cooking, she’d amassed a collection of handmade knives, which she continually extolled over the commercial ceramic knives available in every store on the planet.

It was a thing of beauty. Kat had wiped off the dust, and the blade had an oddly rippled but gorgeous texture. Although it had probably cost his mother a mint, it had no appeal to him. All it did was emphasize their loss.

“Do you want it?” Kat asked.

“You keep it for her. She’ll want to start collecting them again when she gets back.”

A cloud seemed to roll over Kat’s eyes, but she nodded and slipped the knife into her thigh holster.

“Do you want to check the church again?” Tomiko asked. “Maybe they found something out.”

St. Rhiamon’s was a small church that had somehow escaped most of the damage. It had become a repository of messages left by people who were searching for loved ones. The church had been on the way from the base, so they’d stopped there before continuing to the family home.

Rev shook his head. “They’re entering everything into the database as it comes in. Punch will tell me when that happens.”

“Which still takes some time for someone to actually make the entry. Come on, Rev.”

He looked to Kat, who gave him a slight nod.

“We’ve got to get back to Nguyen, but OK. It won’t hurt to stop by on the way.”

He didn’t look back as they walked away from the house. There was nothing left there to see.

A few—too few—survivors were roaming around. Some looked like aimlessly wandering zombies. Others seemed to have a sense of purpose.

One woman who looked vaguely familiar to him had a broom in her hand as she swept the long walkway that led from the street to her home. Behind her, the house was a pile of junk.

“Reverent Pelletier, is that you?” a voice called out.

The three Marines turned in unison. Mr. Jenks, his old trig teacher, was hurrying over, a hollow-eyed teen girl in tow.

“Yes, sir. It’s me,” Rev said. “This is Gunnery Sergeant Reiser and Lance Corporal Pelletier. She’s my sister.”

Jenks gave the two women a brief—and dismissive—glance. “I know Kat. She was in my class. But you’re a Marine. Can you tell me? Is it really over?”

Even in her PAL, he could feel Tomiko tense up at the way he ignored her.

He answered before she could make some remark.

“We don’t know for sure, sir. Around here, there hasn’t been any activity since three days ago, and that was mopping up over in Bryn Mawr. Planetwide? We’re trying to determine that. There could be pockets of holdouts here and there.”

“But here? Are we safe?”

Rev looked around. The neighborhood was in shambles. Not one home escaped the damage. Safe? Maybe from Naxli, but the wreckage introduced its own sort of danger.

“I don’t think there are any noxes here, if that’s what you mean.”

Mr. Jenks gave a big sigh. “That’s good to hear. May the Mother be with you, Reverent,” he said before he turned to the girl. “Come on, Maria. Let’s see if there’s anything left we can salvage.”

He turned away when Rev grabbed him by the arm. “Have you seen my parents, sir? Or my sister?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Reverent. I saw them at the rec center about a week before the invasion, but not since. Maria and I, we left for the Dells to hide out. Your family wasn’t there.”

He must have seen the disappointment on Rev’s face because he softly added, “But there were only a couple of hundred of us there. Not many. They probably went farther away somewhere.”

“OK, thanks.”

“Take care, Reverent,” Jenks said before he took his daughter by the upper arm and hurried off.

“I love how he just ignored us,” Tomiko said as the teacher got out of earshot.

“He’s an asshole. Always was,” Kat said. “All of the girls hated him.”

Jenks? He always seemed to be OK. What’s she talking about?

But he didn’t have the emotional energy to ask Kat, so they continued on.

The three Marines reached Creekwalk Park. They weren’t near where it happened, but this was the park where his brother was killed by the Naxli agent. And that just cemented the losses he’d suffered.

I don’t know that. They could be OK, he reminded himself.

St. Rhiamon’s was Sisters of Compassion, and like all of their churches, it was designed to fit within nature. That might seem a difficult feat inside a major city such as Swansea, but at the far end of the park, the Mad River passed through a small, rocky canyon. The church had been partially cut into the rock on one side, making it seem part of the landscape. That probably had a lot to do with how it survived the fighting.

There were close to a hundred people gathered in front of the church as the three approached. Most were searching the hastily erected bulletin boards for messages or information about loved ones. Other people were at one of three desks where church staff were trying to answer questions or helping them create their own messages to put up.

Incongruously, two lone Children of Angels, identifiable by the yellow armbands, were standing just to the side of the bulletin boards. Rev thought it odd that they were at a Sisters of Compassion church, but maybe they wanted to find out about their loved ones, too.

He shrugged and tried to get close enough to see what might have been added to the boards since they’d passed through an hour ago.

Three Marines in PALs were hard to ignore, and people moved out of their way. Rev searched the section with the newest messages. The one he’d put up was still there, and none of the dozen or so new ones were from his family.

I knew it was too much to hope for.

He turned around to make his way to the rear when a woman grabbed his arm and tried to pull him around to face her. It was like a mouse pulling on a steer, but Rev turned to face her.

“You did this! You caused all the death!” she said, her voice bitter with accusation.

Rev had expected the usual “Thank you for your service,” or something like that, so her anger took him by surprise.

“Ma’am?”

“You did this!” she said, giving his arm a tug. “You taunted them. You practically invited them to come here. Don’t think I don’t recognize you. I seen you on the holo with Vickie Lansing, bragging and all that.”

Tomiko at first recoiled, but then her eyes narrowed, and she started to get between them.

“What the hell do you—”

“I seen you, too! You’re just as bad!” the woman shouted, stopping Tomiko in her tracks.

“Diedre, come on,” a man said, pulling on her arm.

“No! What I’m saying is true!” She looked about the crowd that was now gathering around them. “Them gaunts hit all the capitals, right? Except New Mars. They hit us instead. Why is that? That’s ’cause these arrogant prima donnas thumbed their noses at them. They dared them to come.”

Rev knew he should just walk away, but his mind couldn’t grasp what she was saying. It was just so outlandish.

“I never dared them to come, ma’am.”

“I know what I heard. And I said then it was hubris. I said it was tempting the devil. And I was right.”

“That’s not fair, lady,” someone in the crowd said. “The Marines, they saved us.”

The woman’s screech made Rev’s hair stand on end.

“You’re not listening to me! The damned gaunts would never haf’ come in the first place if that so-called hero hadn’t opened his prideful mouth. He caused this.”

Kat started to surge forward, ready to do battle. Rev’s instincts kicked in. He grabbed his sister and pulled her back. That’s all they needed now—a combat-suited Marine laying out a civilian.

The man had finally succeeded in pulling the lady away, too. She kept yelling at Rev and Tomiko as he removed her.

“Eat me! My brother saved your sorry ass!” Kat shouted after her.

Rev looked around the gathered people. They seemed in shock, too. A few were apologizing to them. Maybe it was paranoia, but others seemed to be giving weight to the woman’s crazy accusations. More than a few disapproving looks were shot their way.

“Let’s get out of here,” Rev said as he backed up.

The crowd parted for them.

“What a bitch! Can you believe her?” Tomiko fumed.

“She’s crazy,” Kat said. “Don’t pay any attention to her.”

“Did I dare the noxes to come?” Rev asked Punch as he tried to recall the interview.

<There wasn’t anything that could reasonably be construed as such.>

“Later, when we get back, I want to listen to the whole interview.”

<Understood. But you won’t find anything.>

A few more people apologized before they got out of the crowd. The two Children of Angels were standing to the side, smirking at them.

“What are you angel shits laughing about?” Tomiko snarled.

One of them said, “That woman understands. Your arrogance is astounding.” He pointed at Pashu. “Even with that toy, you think you can raise yourself. But it’s only through the Sia that we can move to the next level.”

Rev started to grab Tomiko, but she only said, “You are mother-fucking crazy. All of you are.” She turned to Rev and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Rev was all for that. They left the church grounds and started the long trek back.

He’d started that morning full of hope. Instead, it’d turned into one really bad day.

16

Tomiko was still fuming as they made their way back to the base. Rev was more dumbfounded. The image of the protestors after the dedication of the memorial and then the couple who called them gennies kept popping up in his mind. And that was before the invasion.

When the Union first started the IBHU program, there had been pushback from many in the population. “Gennies” had been one of the mildest accusations. But the government’s PR machine had done a good job in highlighting their achievements. They made it sound like IBHU Marines had won the Centaur War, defeated the MDS, and now had the Naxli on the brink of defeat—which was all far from the truth.

While IBHUs had been important factors in several battles, there just weren’t enough of them in existence to have a huge impact on the wars. The MDS, on the other hand, had thousands, maybe tens of thousands of karnans. But it wasn’t just hubris that assured Rev that an IBHU was a superior fighting asset.

The result of all the PR had been that IBHUs became not only accepted, but even looked up to. Rev had gotten used to that. Was that shifting, though? Were things sliding back to the old ways?

Well, they’re not going to do anything while the noxes are still fighting. They need us.

He was only half assured at the thought.

Once the three Marines had cleared some distance from the church, they broke out into a ground-eating lope. They were a long way from the base, and with no public transport, they had to rely on their PALs to limit their time away. They’d probably been gone too long already. The fight for Safe Harbor might have been won, but the Naxli weren’t done with humanity and vice versa. There’d be another fight on the horizon. The enemy had to be taught a lesson.

There was a lot of work, however, before that could be done—not just to the planet, but to the two Safe Harbor divisions as well. Those who’d been in the fight could have used the deployed Marines. There was a benefit, though, of them not being in the fight. While the stay-behind Marines and Navy ships had been decimated, those that had deployed were almost fully intact. Those in the first waves of the counter-assault had suffered casualties, but each unit was still combat-effective. And every day, more of them, all at full strength, came back.

Back to a destroyed infrastructure, but with plenty of combat power.

A Marine in a PAL can cover thirty klicks in an hour, so it took eighty minutes for them to reach the base. Gate 1 no longer existed, but they’d already set up a checkpoint where it had been. It really couldn’t do much good. Most of the fencing was gone, too, so people could walk onto the base from anywhere. But Rev knew it was an important symbol of getting back to normalcy.

“You heading back to your battalion?” Rev asked Kat as they reached the first circle.

“What battalion?” she asked bitterly.

“Hey. They’re still flying the colors,” Tomiko told her.

Two-Nine had taken horrendous casualties. But Tomiko was right. They had never stopped fighting, and the battalion colors had been proudly displayed in their ruined quad.

“I know,” she said. “And yes, I’m heading back. Sergeant Koral’s been on my ass to get back. He can’t cover for me much longer.”

After all the crap Kat had been taking from the sergeant, Rev had been surprised that he agreed not only to let her go with Tomiko and him, but also to take responsibility for the decision. Combat had a way of building bonds that could overcome almost anything.

“Then you better get back. Don’t make him regret letting you go,” Tomiko said.

Kat gave both of them a peck on the cheek, then took off. The two gunnies watched her for a moment.

“She’s a good Marine, Rev.”

“That she is. I’m proud of her,” he said. “Anybody asking where you are?”

Having comms back had been a huge benefit to the final stages of the battle, but now they were an electronic leash, and they’d been gone for going on five hours now.

“Thank the Mother, no. But you know it’ll happen if we don’t get back soon.”

“Then let’s move it.”

Camp Reyes was a good half hour from Gate 1, and their route took them through some of the most devastated parts of the base. Groups of Ninety-nines, who, like Neddles, had grabbed weapons and proved the adage that every Marine is a rifleman, were now back at work removing the debris and preparing to get the base operating again.

Rev had almost become a Ninety-nine back when he was conscripted, something he’d considered beneath him. And after the Centaur War, things had changed somewhat for them—their thirty-year commitment was dismissed and converted to a four-year, like everyone else, for one thing. But Rev had still considered them as something less than a “real” Marine.

That had changed. Neddles and the rest of the Ninety-nines, both those who’d made the ultimate sacrifice and those who’d survived, had proven the temper of their steel. Rev vowed to never look down upon them again.

Camp Reyes hadn’t taken as much damage as most of the base. Two of the barracks were still almost intact. Sadly, it only took two to house the survivors.

Rev and Tomiko ditched their PALs. With the armory destroyed, all of the PALs were in neat rows in what had been the parade deck, reminding Rev of the images he’d seen of the Terracotta Army of Qin Shi Huang, the first emperor of China.

“I’d be happy if we don’t don those damn things for a couple of months,” Tomiko said as they headed for the barracks. “I swear the thing smells like dead cat piss.”

“So, you’re saying you smell like dead cat piss,” Rev said. “Seeing as it’s you making the smell.”

“Eat me, Rev.”

“You name the time and place, Miko dear.”

Over-sergeant Rantz met them at the door to the barracks. “They found Hvarser,” he told him.

“Hvarser? Alive?” Rev asked hopefully.

“Alive. A drone found her and some other Marines, up on the Lasson Incline.”

Rev felt a surge of relief that was quickly replaced by a flash of anger. “Where is that son of a bitch, and why didn’t she answer her comms?”

“She’d molted from her PAL, so no comms. Until the drone found them, her little crew of happy warriors was still looking for noxes. They didn’t know the battle was over.”

“And the Navy craft flying around didn’t give her a clue?” Rev said, but somewhat mollified. “That’s how you knew the battle had shifted when you were MIA.”

The karnan scowled. “I wasn’t MIA. I was advancing the fight, Gunny.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Rantz.”

The karnan wasn’t lying, though. After the platoon split up at the park, he’d hooked up with another team from Fox and kept a guerilla fight going, hitting the Naxli several times without losing a single Marine. Rev had been impressed after going over his report, but he enjoyed giving the karnan grief too much to let go of the “MIA.”

With Hvarser located, at least every member of the platoon was accounted for, alive or dead.

“When’s her ETA here?”

“They’re on their way back, but in their bare skin, best they can do is tomorrow.”

“And we can’t ask the Navy to pick them up?”

Rantz shrugged. “You know how it is, Gunny.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Any word on Smith or Tsenzing?” Tomiko asked.

“Sorry, not that I heard. But maybe someone in Second Platoon would know.”

Tomiko told Rev, “I’m going to find out. I’ll check with you later.”

And with that, she hurried off.

“And the lieutenant said for you to see him when you got back.”

“I was going to see him anyway, but thanks.”

The platoon office was one of the surviving supply sheds. Rev stepped inside, and the lieutenant looked up from the makeshift desk shoved against the wall.

“Gunny. Any luck?”

“No, sir. No sign, and nothing reported.”

“Sorry for that. But there’s a lot of confusion, and the records are hardly complete, especially with the undernet still down.”

That did give him hope. The survivor reports were being passed over the military comms system, but as Punch had said, they still had to be entered.

“We have had some updates on the overall situation, though.”

That caught Rev’s attention. “Sir?”

“Like we thought, the school answer for now is that the home system was a feint. There was serious fighting, but Intel doesn’t think it was a real objective. I don’t know, though. Maybe they didn’t think the defenses would be so robust, and they just decided it wasn’t ready.”

“But if it was a feint, then it did the job of pulling most of Safe Harbor’s defenses away. Not just us, but the other targets, too.”

The lieutenant nodded. “About the other systems. Yamoussoukro is secure. There’s still fighting on Alabaster, but the writing is on the wall. First Division’s heading there, but the battle might be over before they get there.”

“Good. So, they can get back here. What about Tau Ceti? Is the fighting over there, too?”

The lieutenant went quiet for a moment, then said, “It’s gone.”

“Sir?” Rev asked as a feeling of dread swept over him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what the lieutenant meant.

“It’s been blasted. Destroyed.”

“Like Nguyen?” Rev asked despite knowing the answer.

“As it’s blasted rubble now. Scoured. When the reinforcements arrived, one of the ships managed to release a planet buster that escaped detection. And when the tide turned, well, it detonated.”

Rev felt light-headed and sat down on one of the room’s racks, which was now substituting as a desk.

“Survivors?”

The lieutenant just looked at him.

When a planet was scoured, there was nothing left. No atmosphere. It was theoretically possible that some people in a controlled shelter with a supply of air managed to survive the cataclysmic shock wave and damage. Twenty-two people in a deep mine on the planet had managed to survive that scouring—twenty-two out of twelve billion.

Getting scoured had been an ongoing concern during the fight, but as the human forces routed out the remaining Naxli and nothing happened, the possibility had become less of a concern.

“Why didn’t they, you know . . . ?” he asked, almost afraid to voice what could have happened to Safe Harbor.

The lieutenant understood the question, though. “They tried.”

“Sir?”

“They tried. But the planet buster was detected. I’m not sure how. Then the Navy vaporized it before it could move into position.”

Rev just gaped at the lieutenant. Words wouldn’t come.

“Yeah, I know. It still has me trembling. That could have been us.”

“Thank the Mother for the Navy,” Rev finally said.

Suddenly, all of the damage, all of the deaths, came into perspective. At least Safe Harbor still existed.

“This is still classified, Gunny. The Safe Harbor part. Tau Ceti’s already out there. For us, I think they’re trying to figure out how to let the public know what happened. I mean, what almost happened.”

“This is going to make it worse for us with the civilians, sir.”

“What do you mean? We beat the Naxli, and we stopped them scouring us before it could happen.”

“We went to St. Rhiamon’s. It’s become something of a meeting spot for people trying to find family. When we were there, some woman said we caused the invasion.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. You can’t put any stock into a crazy lady.”

“I don’t think it’s just her. A bunch of the others seemed to agree. She asked why New Mars wasn’t hit like the other capitals, but we were.”

“I’m not following you, Gunny.”

“She said that it’s because we’ve been in the news. Us, not New Mars or any of the charter worlds. She thinks we taunted them and made ourselves a target. And if they find out we came within a gnat’s ass of being . . . you know. If that almost happened, it’s gonna get worse.”

The lieutenant scowled. “I think you’re making a mountain out of a molehill, Gunny. Once they realize how close we all came to getting zeroed, they’ll be grateful to us. Especially the Navy.”

“Maybe,” Rev said, even if he wasn’t convinced. He’d seen the expression on the woman’s face, and he’d heard the vehemence in her voice.

“I heard they found Hvarser,” he said, wanting to change the subject.

The lieutenant seemed more than willing to change it, too. “She was halfway up some mountainside, still looking for noxes to kill,” he said with a broad smile. “Gathered herself a little fighting unit. None of them had combat suits, but that didn’t matter to them.”

“You don’t need a PAL to fight, sir. It’s in the heart.”

“True enough,” the lieutenant said with a chuckle. “And I guess she has it. I’m trying to get a return ride for her and her merry band, but priorities, you know. Either way, they should be back by tomorrow.”

“And then what, sir? What are we gonna to do?”

“We get our troops ready for war. That’s what we’re going to do. I’m not making the decisions, but you can bet your last credit that humanity isn’t going to let this go without a payback.”

* * *

“Getting our troops ready for war” was easier said than done. When First and Second Divisions returned to the planet, the raw numbers of Marines returned to eighty-three percent of their T/O. However, the infrastructure and logistics had been ravaged. Ordnance and supplies had been destroyed, and the means to manufacture replacements no longer existed.

The Navy had taken a more serious hit. They wouldn’t be back to normal strength without the Union government stepping in and transferring ships to the planet. That would prove to be a political headache. After what happened to Safe Harbor, the other local governments wouldn’t be jumping over each other to give up resources to refurbish the planetary navy.

To further put sand in the gears, the spaceports had been heavily damaged, and the space elevator on the main continent had been destroyed, so the normal commercial transport was unusable. Goods being rushed to the planet were stacked up in orbit while suborbital craft, military shuttles, and even assault craft were laboriously bringing cargo to the surface.

There was one more major hurdle. The military wasn’t the priority. The invasion had been devastating to Safe Harbor, but it hadn’t significantly degraded the full Union military. The bottom line was that they didn’t need the two provincial Marine divisions nor the planet’s naval fleet. Another gunny who’d been in Rev’s recruit class told him that the regular Corps might even welcome the Safe Harbor Marines being out of the equation for a while. When Rev asked why, the other gunny, with a knowing expression, said that they’d resented the public relations emphasis that had been bestowed on the expeditionary brigade and the Safe Harbor Marines.

Rev didn’t mention the woman who’d blamed all that press for the invasion, but he couldn’t help but think of it himself.

The priority wasn’t the military but rather the civilians. Countless numbers were still unaccounted for, even in the formal camps. There were just too many people, and with almost all undernet facilities knocked out, record-keeping was largely relegated to old-fashioned pen and paper.

The Union and CoH were both offering rides off planet to where people could be better cared for, but a surprisingly small number of people took them up on that. The general consensus was that as the Naxli hadn’t managed to kill them all, and they wouldn’t succeed in making the survivors give up, then they’d stay put and rebuild.

Rev was proud of that, and he wasn’t second-guessing the priorities, but it would make it easier on the battalion if they could be more on the receiving end of the logistical train.

There was one area that had improved, though. There had been a jump in local enlistments. Recruit training didn’t need much in the way of facilities, when it came down to it. Even with a destroyed boot camp, recruits were being turned into Marines. It would take a while for them to work their way down the pipeline to start replacing losses, and it was doubtful that any of them would be slated for the battalion, but it was a good start.

17

“You’ve got five more confeds. The first sergeant said for you to go pick them up,” Corporal Delacruz, the new company clerk, told Rev.

“Five? What are we supposed to do with five more? We’re already at T/O.”

“Hell if I know. I’m just the messenger. But they’re clogging up the CP, and the sergeant major wants them out of there.”

“OK, OK. I’m on my way.”

Just four weeks ago, Rev had been worried that it would take time before the company was up to speed. That was until last week when new personnel started arriving. The first to come were Marines. A handful were from Safe Harbor’s First and Second Provincial Marine Divisions, but then more arrived from the regular Corps—almost all were either Recon or Raiders.

Rev had been happy for the new bodies. And then for the Frisians who’d arrived shortly thereafter. And the Legionnaires, and the Hégémonie Liberté naval infantry, Paxus soldiers, the four Bugatti’s World Carabinieri Gruppo di Intervento Speciale commandos, and the FIS soldiers. Now, it looked like the Confederation was involved. All they needed was some Osnovnoy Alyanz spetsnaz soldiers, and they’d be the Home Guard all over again.

No Rangers, though. The five surviving Rangers in the battalion had left on the first available transport. No new karnans, either, although those survivors within the battalion had stayed put.

It wasn’t just personnel. Military shuttles had been landing non-stop, bringing in supplies and equipment.

As far as Rev could tell, this influx was limited to the battalion and brigade headquarters. The rest of the Marines were still scrambling to re-outfit their units. Kat said that her battalion was getting personnel, but equipment was another story. For the First Human, though, it was different. It was “Ask, and you shall receive.”

This wasn’t Rev’s first rodeo. Things like this didn’t happen without a reason. Someone wanted the battalion back up to speed. Someone as in the CoH. Rev didn’t think it was just politics, an attempt to shore up public perception by rebuilding what was lost. No, the battalion, and probably the brigade, were going to be used.

And that caused a deep level of excitement in him, though one tempered by caution. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that humanity had to hit the Naxli and hit them hard. The warrior in Rev reveled that he’d be part of it. From a strategic standpoint, revenge wasn’t a sound reason for a military operation, and history was littered with lost wars because of pride. From an emotional standpoint, however, Rev wanted this.

But he was also pragmatic enough to realize that despite the influx, and maybe even because of it, they were far from combat effective.

The survivors of the invasion were now hardened combat vets who’d trained, and more importantly, fought together. The battalion might have been way under-strength, but they could fight.

The new joins—even the new Marines—all had their own method of combat. Heck, while Rev had served with a couple of Bugatti commandos in the Home Guard, as far as he knew, this was the first time any of them had served in the brigade.

On paper, all of the new joins were the best of the best. But it was going to take time to mold them into a cohesive, effective fighting force. And from the tempo of the rebuild, he wasn’t sure they were going to get that time. The public was demanding action, and the politicians might just act without taking military cohesiveness into full consideration.

Rev left the barracks and hurried over to the CP, which was a newly erected Paxus Lightweight Expeditionary Secure Structure on what had been the ballfield. It was choreographed chaos inside. Partitions had been jury-rigged, but they didn’t reach the ceiling, and so they didn’t stop the noise from filling the building.

Not even the CO had a private office. Rev could see Colonel Caplan in the far corner of the CP as he held some sort of meeting. Alpha Company might be in a barracks, but at least he could close the door and have some privacy if needed.

He walked up to the S-1 area and asked, “You’ve got five for Alpha?”

The corporal tilted his head to the wall of the CP. “There they are, all ready to go, Gunny. If you can get them out of here, we can get the sergeant major off our collective asses.”

With Brown-Master Lyztomontz KIA during the invasion, Sergeant Major Šimko had come over from First Division. Due to the regimental system of the Safe Harbor Marines, there wasn’t a lot of cross-pollination between the two divisions from their respective continents. Even so, the sergeant major’s reputation preceded him. From what Rev had seen so far, that reputation as a flaming asshole was well-deserved.

“I’ve got it, Corporal.”

The five soldiers—a staff sergeant, two sergeants, and two corporals, were standing casually against the front bulkhead of the CP. They had that easy yet alert posture of soldiers who’d been in the shit before.

“Are you coming for us?” the staff sergeant asked.

Rev motioned for them to follow him. They left the CP, and Rev gathered them around.

“I’m Gunny Pelletier. That’s sergeant first class for a Marine.”

He didn’t know how familiar the five were with Marine ranks, and he wanted to get that established. They hadn’t changed their expressions one iota, though, which didn’t tell him much.

“I’m the Alpha Company First Platoon sergeant and acting company gunny. I don’t know where you’ll be heading, but we’ll try and get that settled today.”

“Are you an azri?” the staff sergeant asked, his eyes locked on Rev’s prosthetic arm.

“I prefer IBHU. But yes, I am. We’ve got six within the company. Nine karnans, too. No Rangers anymore.”

There was the slightest of sneers as Rev said “karnan,” but Rev let it go. “Have any of you served with a multi-national force?”

One of the sergeants raised a hand and said, “I was in the Home Guard.”

“OK, that’s a start. For the rest of you, I’ve got one big piece of advice. We don’t want to hear how you did it back in the Screaming Weenie,” he said, glad to have a bit of the Confederation Army slang at his disposal. “And for the most part, you’re not going to be turning into Marines.”

“Thank the Mother for that,” the staff sergeant said to the chuckles of the other four soldiers.

“But you are going to be First Human Expeditionary troopers, and we’ve got our own way of doing things. Your mission is to get locked in as quickly as humanly possible. I don’t know how much time we have, so make use of every minute.”

“Have you heard anything about a possible mission?” the staff sergeant asked.

Rev shook his head. “Not even a rumor. But from the tempo of things here, you can draw your own conclusions. So, let’s get back to the company area. Hopefully, we can get you your weapons draw and out today for a fam fire while we wait to see where the skipper wants you.”

“Today? I guess the tempo is pretty high, Sarge.”

Rev hesitated, then said, “I know I just told you you wouldn’t be becoming Marines, but we try to respect each other’s ranks here, and believe me, we’ve got the whole gamut in the company. And so, please don’t call a Marine ‘sarge.’ For me, it’s ‘gunnery sergeant’ or ‘gunny.’”

The staff sergeant nodded and said, “No offense intended.”

“I realize that, so no offense taken. That said, let’s head on back and get you all situated.”

* * *

“This Korblatz is coming to us? Why not Third?” the lieutenant asked.

Korblatz was the Confederation staff sergeant, and they’d just gotten the word that he was being assigned to First Platoon.

“He’s senior to Rantz,” Rev said.

“Shit.”

“Yes, sir. Shit.”

“Do we have to give him Second Squad? Rantz has been doing well, and if we’re going to get the call, then we need continuity.”

“It’s your platoon, sir. You can do what you want unless the skipper overrules you. But with the politics involved, you know . . .”

“I could get a call from some Confed liaison on why their staff sergeant is being discriminated against. I know.”

“He’s Confed special forces with a good record,” Rev said.

“Who has no idea of how we do things. Give us six months, and no problem. But the question is if we have that long.”

“That’s something—” Rev started before his wristcomp buzzed. He looked down at the readout. “Uh, sorry, sir. The skipper needs to see me.”

“Damn it, we need to figure this out before they get back from their fam fire. I know you’ve got those company gunny duties, but your real job is here as my platoon sergeant.”

Lieutenant Grayson had proven his value in dispersing the ammo and supplies during the invasion, but he could still be a bit wishy-washy. Rev wanted to say, “Just make a decision. You’re the commander.” He held back, though, shrugged, and said, “Not my choice, sir.”

“Go ahead. But I’m going to talk to him. There needs to be a permanent company gunny so I can have you back as my full-time platoon sergeant. With all the new joins, there has to be someone to step into the company slot.”

“Do you know what this is about?” he asked Punch as he walked down the corridor to the company office, which had been a lounge for the junior enlisted who’d lived in the spaces before the invasion.

<I don’t have anything. But there was another shipment of V-20 that arrived today.>

“So, I’ve got to get every PAL treated again. Oh, joy.”

V-20 was a liquid that was supposed to make a PAL stealthier. After getting three coats, it supposedly absorbed eighty percent of active surveillance beams. Rev wasn’t overly confident in the product. A trooper in a PAL was rather hard to miss, after all.

One coat had already been applied, and it had been a pain in the ass. The shelter they’d erected for the purpose had been quickly trashed with the process, and then the PALs were a sticky mess for two entire days after.

He stepped into the office. Captain White Eagle, Senior Sergeant Andrea “Willie” Wilczewski, and Corporal Delacruz were standing over some charts.

“Can you give us the office, Corporal?” the captain said. “And close the hatch.”

What’s this?

If the captain wanted to see him about the V-20, then he wouldn’t have sent Delacruz out.

Rev was caught up on all deadlines, and as far as he knew, no one in the platoon had messed up—but then again, if someone in the platoon was in trouble, the lieutenant would be there, too.

He glanced at the FIS senior sergeant. She’d arrived and taken over as the company first sergeant within a week of the battalion’s return to Nguyen. He hadn’t spent much time with her, at least enough to get a feel for her, and he wasn’t getting any hints on what this was about now, either.

“Take a seat, Gunny,” the captain said.

Rev pulled the chair from Delacruz’s desk, spun it around, and sat.

Captain White Eagle stared at him for a moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision. “First, any word on your family?”

“No, sir.”

The lists from the refugee camps had been pretty much promulgated, but Rev hadn’t given up hope. Several thousand people had been lifted off the planet during the fighting in some daring evacuations, and to date, not all of those people had been identified. Then, on a more dire note, they still didn’t know how many people had been captured and spirited away as slaves. Until Rev had firm proof that his family had been killed, he was going to keep hope alive.

“Bad stuff, that,” the first sergeant said.

The company commander nodded, then said, “I might as well get right to it. As of this moment, you’re the company gunny.”

“Sir? I’ve been the company gunny since before the invasion.”

“I mean officially. You’re taking the T/O slot.”

“But I didn’t think one person could take two . . . Oh,” he said as it sank in. “You mean, Yance . . . I mean, Staff Sergeant del Rio’s the new platoon sergeant?”

“You did just get a new staff sergeant, one senior to Over-sergeant Rantz, right?” the first sergeant asked. “And didn’t you tell me Rantz was doing a bang-up job?”

“Well, yes, but . . .” he started as his mind raced to think of some way to change the captain’s mind. There was no way he wanted to get totally subsumed by the minutiae of being a company gunny.

“Is, that . . . I mean, no disrespect intended, but if we’re getting deployed, and with all the new joins, maybe it might be better if I stayed with First Platoon?”

“So, you’re telling the skipper that Staff Sergeant del Rio isn’t up for the job?” the first sergeant said, a gleam in her eye as she had just painted Rev into a corner.

If he said Yancey wasn’t ready, then he’d just torpedoed his friend. But he did have one ace in the hole.

He stood and placed himself directly in front of the company commander before slightly raising his social arm.

“Sir, we’re very short of IBHUs. Wouldn’t this be taking the firepower from where it’s needed?”

In a quiet voice, but sharp as steel nonetheless, his fellow IBHU Marine asked, “Are you inferring that I shouldn’t be in the company headquarters? That I’m wasting my IBHU?”

Oh, shit. You stepped on your dick there, Reverent.

“No, no, sir! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just . . . I . . .”

The captain waved him off. “As it just so happens, Gunny, I’ve already considered both your firepower and your propensity of being in the right place at the right time.”

Please don’t say Nexus of Chaos.

“Your primary duties are as the company gunny, and quite frankly, you need a little work on getting those duties down. But in combat, in addition to making sure the troopers have their food and ammo, you’ll be leading a small, shall we say, reaction team?”

That perked Rev up. His warrior self, too.

“Sir?”

“I . . . we envision it as a four-person team, ready to be inserted where you can have the most effect on the outcome of the fight.”

The first sergeant was sitting there looking like the cat who’d eaten the canary. He realized she’d been a big part of this.

“Is this SOP?” Rev asked.

Not that he was against the idea, but companies didn’t have QRTs, which was sure what this sounded like. Quick Reaction Teams were at battalion level and higher.

“What, are you going to go report this to your buddy, the Three?” the first sergeant asked. “I’m sure we can keep you busy with normal loggie jobs that land on a company gunny.”

“No, no. I’m on board. Completely on board. I just . . . this kinda took me by surprise.” He paused as the idea sunk in. This reaction force idea wasn’t as good as being a platoon sergeant, but it was probably the best he could hope for.

“You said a four-man team. Who are the others?”

“I imagine you’d like to choose them. No IBHUs. No karnans. No one from Weapons,” the captain said.

“Tiwari,” Rev said immediately.

The first sergeant raised her eyebrows at that, but the captain gave a slight nod. He’d seen Tiwari in action, so he knew why Rev had selected him.

Lance Corporal Per Tiwari might not look the part, and with his odd speech patterns, he didn’t sound the part, either, but given the limitations the captain had just put on him, Tiwari was his first choice.

“And?”

Rev was stumped for a moment. He’d just taken someone from Tomiko and Second Platoon. Maybe he should go to Third next. But he wasn’t as familiar with them. Except, the Carabinieri Primo caporale maggiore Brizzi. The guy was a certified stud. There were rumors that he had to be some sort of hyper-augment that the Bugattis hadn’t revealed.

“Brizzi.”

This time, both of them nodded. Rev might have just taken one of Bob’s best, but that’s the way it was.

“Next?”

That was one from Second Platoon and one from Third. That left First. He really wanted Randigold, but she was off-limits.

Archambault?

That wouldn’t work. The Legionnaire was a team leader now, and Hussein needed the experience.

Weld?

But Weld was a Marine, and something told Rev that this, whatever it was going to turn out to be, the team shouldn’t be half Marine.

He didn’t even realize he was opening his mouth, nor did he realize who he was picking, until the name “Hvarser” came out of his mouth.

The company leadership was in synch this time by showing their surprise.

Punch joined in with <That’s an interesting choice.>

And none of them were more shocked than Rev was himself.

“Hvarser?” the captain said. “E-Spec 3 Hvarser, the trooper who was wandering around lost in her long johns.”

“The Hvarser who looks like she slept in her uniform when she’s even in it?” the first sergeant asked.

“When her PAL ran out of power, she kept fighting. Not only that, but she grabbed four Ninety-nines and became their leader,” Rev said, suddenly realizing why he picked the Alliance soldier.

She hadn’t shown quit.

The captain looked at him with raised eyebrows, then he said, “OK, Hvarser it is. We’ll work out the logistics and give you time to train together. But for now, your company gunny duties are calling. You’re going to have a long night, I’m afraid.”

The little high Rev was feeling vanished like the morning mist. “The V-20?”

“Bingo,” the first sergeant said. “And better you than me.”

18

“Stand by,” Tomiko passed on the P2P.

“What’s the situation?” Rev asked.

“Possibly three bad guys. This should be a walk in the park for your chosen ones,” Tomiko said, the sarcasm clear in the transmission.

Rev loved the woman, but she hadn’t liked the idea of a “special action” team. And he knew she particularly didn’t like the fact that after her platoon had cleared the rubble of enemy, it was now Rev and his team who were going to swoop in and take the glory.

Still, he appreciated the heads-up. She was giving him the best chance at success.

Rev turned to his three troopers and gave the signal for “get ready.”

Despite himself, Rev was becoming excited, and his warrior self was stirring. The captain was acting outside the box—way outside. Rev knew this had initiated with the first sergeant. The FIS army wasn’t among the strongest in the galaxy, but they had a reputation as being innovative. Regardless of whether it was her idea or the skippers, White Eagle had put a lot of trust in Rev to head this concept.

And as Rev did not want to be saddled with the company gunny duties 24/7, he was bound and determined to make it work even with the lack of training time.

The three troopers had trained together on the range and in one of the four simulators on the base that had managed to escape destruction. Brizzi had emerged as their leader, which wasn’t surprising given his expertise and experiences. But despite the captain’s assurances that Rev would also have time to train, his duties as company gunny had taken the vast bulk of his time. With the company building back up, and with the almost certainty that they’d be heading out again, he barely had enough time to blow his nose, much less get into the field. What little time he’d managed had come at the cost of sleep and in trying to get word about his family.

But the exhaustion was gone in the adrenaline surge as “Team Pashu” readied itself for action. They knew all eyes were on them.

“Alpha-Seven, you are a go,” the captain passed on the company net.

“This is it. We know what we’re doing, so let’s get it done.”

It wasn’t the most profound pep-talk, but these three were professionals. They didn’t need him to get themselves motivated.

They moved forward in a diamond, with Tiwari on point. He was armed with the M-103, a buckshot grenade in the chamber. Rev had considered taking the lead, given his quicker reflexes and firepower, but the captain had frowned at the idea.

The four moved quickly along the side of the ruined buildings, using the rubble as cover. Given a choice, Rev would rather have them in PAL-5s, the same as he used when he was a Raider. The PAL-HX was a hellacious piece of combat gear, and he was alive today because of his. But this mission was more of a quick strike operation where speed and flexibility were going to make the difference. And while the PAL-5 was not as robust and did not offer the same degree of protection, it was smaller, quicker, and more maneuverable.

But with the losses, the company was lucky to have the PAL-H and PAL-HXs (the HX being the modified version for use with an IBHU). There was really no way for them to get PAL-5s.

So, like Marines and soldiers throughout history, they were just going to make do with what they had.

“Passing through,” Tiwari told the rear elements of Second Platoon, who had shifted from assault to support element for this phase of the plan.

As they moved through the lines, Tomiko stood and gave Rev a thumbs-up. She might be a little miffed, but she was giving him her full support.

Their objective was four hundred meters ahead. The building was still standing, even if only two-thirds intact, making it the only such one in all of Camp Fulmore. The somewhat isolated camp had been the headquarters for a reserve combat support battalion. It had been flattened during the invasion, but the CP had only been damaged. With many of the ranges aboard Nguyen out of action, the ruins of Fulmore were seeing use as a training facility.

The four of them moved rapidly, making use of the wreckage. But speed was of the essence. They had to close quickly.

His three troopers moved as if they were connected. That was another reason Rev was pulling up the rear of the diamond. He was the odd man out, while those three had been working together the entire time Rev was trying to argue with supply or get PALs V-20ed.

He was impressed. Tiwari gave the slightest of flicks with his left hand, and Brizzi shifted to his right. Rev wasn’t sure why until he reached the spot. That slight shift had given the carabinieri a better field of fire. Tiwari had seen the terrain, understood how that would affect Brizzi, and made the correction on the move.

I sure made some good choices in selecting them.

They reached their last bit of cover: what had been a warehouse of some sort. Tiwari glanced back, and Rev gave him the signal to proceed.

All four broke out into a run, and as they cleared the edge of the rubble, their objective was seventy-five meters ahead. They charged across the open area, covering the ground in less than ten seconds. A PAL-H might not be as quick as a PAL-5, but that didn’t mean they were slow.

Brizzi and Tiwari took a covering position, with Rev hanging back as Hvarser rushed forward and placed her charge.

“Fire in the hole. Five seconds,” she said as she moved to the side.

This may be training, but the charge was real. Rev and the other two hugged the wall as well. The charge blew, and before the door clattered to the floor, the team was moving.

It was textbook. Tiwari went to a knee, while the other three flowed into the space, each one covering a different sector of the room. It was empty, though.

That would have been too easy.

Rev pointed up the stairs. The element of surprise was gone the minute the door charge blew, but if they were quick, they could still hit the enemy before they could react.

Tiwari was first. The old Dalit bounded up the stairs, which creaked under his weight, but held. Brizzi and Hvarser were on his ass, with Rev covering all three.

The outer wall was gone from halfway up, and the stairs themselves were covered in debris. Rev had a quick image of losing his footing and tumbling back down, but he made it up without embarrassing himself.

The four flooded the second deck of the building.

“Clear!” Tiwari shouted.

With the space at the top of the stairs clear, Rev had a decision to make. A good portion of the building being gone, his choices were limited.

“Left room,” Rev ordered.

There would be two more intact rooms: a conference room on the right and an office on the left. As the office was smaller, Rev figured the enemy would choose that as easier to defend.

The four rushed forward. They weren’t the first ones to use the camp for training. The original door was no longer there, replaced by a sheet of plywood. Tiwari didn’t even hesitate and ran through the door as if it were paper.

An instant later, he fired his M-103, which without Rev’s PAL’s dampening, would have been deafening.

All four were inside in a split second. Rev, coming up in the rear, didn’t even have a chance to fire. The two “enemy”—two stacks of ammo cases—were already “dead.” Tiwari had blasted one while Brizzi got the other.

Their target sat on a dilapidated chair.

Hvarser grabbed the prisoner, but when she pulled back, the beat-up mannikin lost a leg, which had been chained to the chair.

The Alliance E-spec looked up at Rev in confusion. Intel hadn’t told them their target would be restrained. He knew that was on purpose, to see how the team would react. But the dummy was so beaten up that the leg had simply come off as Hvarser, in her PAL, pulled.

And now, she was standing there, holding their target while the leg was on the deck at her feet.

Rev didn’t know if something more, like an enemy reaction force, was going to be thrown at them, and the clock was ticking. He could just withdraw with their prize, but something told him they needed to react.

“Cut the chain,” he told Brizzi.

“But—”

“Cut it.”

The carabinieri pulled out his multitool, set the blade to cut, and applied it. The chain parted like paper. It was evidently about as real as the two enemy soldiers.

Rev gave the order to move out.

“The leg, Hvarser!” he had to remind her.

She reached down, grabbed the leg, and stood there a moment as if wondering what to do with it.

“Screw it,” she said before stuffing it in the dummy’s shirt.

Tiwari led the retreat back down to the ground floor. Rev was ready for something more to be thrown at them, but there was nothing.

They left the building and took off at a steady run back to Second’s position. Technically, the platoon should have been emplaced to provide covering fire, but they were all standing and watching. Captain White Eagle and the first sergeant were standing around, too.

As soon as they reached the platoon, the skipper called ENDEX.

Hvarser drop-kicked the dummy, and the detached leg flew out of its shirt and landed a good five meters from the torso.

Tiwari retrieved the leg, and with a formal bow to the dummy, presented it and said

“Pardon me, ma’am, but without this, I don’t think you have a leg to stand on.”

“Hey, Gunny,” Brizzi said, “Too bad it wasn’t her arm. You could have yourself another azri!”

Captain White Eagle had been approaching Rev, and he laughed. “I guess we could use a few more IBHUs.”

He cleared his throat. “As to the exercise. We’ll look at the recordings, but at first blush, it looked good. Congrats, Gunny. I think you’ve formed a good team there.”

Rev hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been. Failure might have put an end to this little experiment. But his team had come through for him.

This might have been a very controlled exercise, and stacked ammo cases couldn’t fire back, but Rev was feeling pretty good about their chances if they got a mission for real.

19

Rev checked the manifest. “Uh, what the hell? There’s nothing listed here.”

“I know,” the ox driver said in a tired voice. “Nothing on the manifest. But you’ve still got to sign for them.”

“How the hell am I supposed to sign for them if I don’t know what they are?”

“The way everyone else is signing for them. Look into the scanner and accept.”

“No. No way.”

The driver, a Ninety-nine lance corporal, shook his head, went to his cab, and sat. Rev could tell he’d gone through this before, and while he didn’t want to make the Marine’s job difficult, he wasn’t going to just accept nine crates that were bonded, so he couldn’t even open them up and see what they were.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Take your time, Gunny. I’ll be waiting right here.”

He tried to raise the captain, but his wrist comp flashed, “Not Available.” He was tempted to call the new XO, but he left the front of the barracks and jogged over to the LESS instead.

The CP was a hive of activity, as it had been for three weeks now. Rev made his way back to the Four Shop.

“Top!” he called out to Master Sergeant Olyn, who looked up suspiciously at him.

“Whatever you want, the answer’s no.”

“I don’t want anything. I got a shipment today. Nine crates.”

“And?”

“I’m supposed to sign for them, but I don’t know what the hell they are. And the manifest doesn’t say squat.”

“Just sign for them, Gunny.”

Rev wasn’t expecting that. “But I just told you. I don’t know what they are.”

“They’re nine crates. You just said that.”

“But what’s in them?”

“I sure don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. Just sign for them, then stash them somewhere.”

Rev stared at the master sergeant, feeling as if he’d suddenly stepped into an alternate universe. This wasn’t how the military did things.

“Just sign for something that I don’t know what it is. And ‘just stash’ them?”

“Don’t give me a headache. Just do it.”

“They’re even bonded, so I can’t open up the crates to see what’s inside.”

The S-4 chief shook his head, then went back to his work. Rev stood there for half a minute being ignored before he got the message.

With a sigh, he left the CP, only to have SFC Piaso, the Charlie Company gunny run up.

“Hey, did you get a delivery of crates?” Piaso asked when he spotted Rev.

“Don’t bother with Top Olyn. He says just sign for them.”

“That’s bullshit, Rev. I ain’t signing for nothing I don’t know what it is.”

He pushed past Rev and disappeared into the CP. Rev just shook his head and walked back to the rear of the barracks where the lance corporal was waiting with the loaded ox. The Marine raised a single questioning eyebrow.

“Give me the scanner,” Rev growled.

The lance corporal had the courtesy not to say “I told you so.” Then again, he was an E-3, while Rev was an E-7.

Rev placed his eye into the cup, was scanned, and he accepted the shipment. The driver quickly unloaded the crates with the ox’s reticulated arm and took off.

Rev just stood there a moment, looking at the crates, wondering where he was supposed to “stash” them. More than that, he wondered what was inside of them. With all the activity, it was a good bet that whatever it was, it had something to do with the upcoming mission.

There was zero word and even very few rumors as to what that mission might be, or if it even existed. But the frenetic pace and the knowledge that humanity could not let the Naxli attacks go unanswered had convinced everyone that a mission was imminent.

If these crates are vital to the mission, and then if I knew what was inside them, I could better prepare the company.

In the back of his mind, Rev knew he was just looking for an excuse, but he refused to acknowledge that.

If he wanted to look, though, how would he do that? The bonding straps could be cut, of course. But that would set off an alarm. He doubted that MPs would come swooping down to put him in chains, and not only because the Marine MPs didn’t have jurisdiction over the battalion. Still, he didn’t want to make waves.

He scratched his chin as he considered the possibilities. Finally, he got on his wristcomp and called the two people he thought had the mindset and capabilities to tackle the problem: Kelly and Hussein.

Hussein arrived first. He gave the crates a quizzical look, and Rev told him to hold on. He didn’t want to explain himself twice.

Kelly arrived a few moments later, but with Tomiko in tow.

“You call Kelly but not me?” she asked as Rev grimaced.

“Plausible deniability?” he offered.

Tomiko just glared at him.

Rev shook it off and explained the situation. He wanted to find out what was in the crates without breaking the bonding.

Tomiko stood silently beside Rev as the other two examined one of the crates. He could tell she was pissed at him, but she was also intensely curious, just as he was.

It took the other two less than a minute before they turned to Rev and Tomiko.

“They didn’t really secure the crates. A bonding strap can’t do that, and we don’t see anything else. The straps are probably on to make sure that whatever’s inside of them isn’t taken out and distributed.”

“Then why wouldn’t the contents be listed on the manifest?” Rev asked.

Kelly just shrugged.

“But the good news is that if you really want to look inside, we can do that.”

Both Rev and Tomiko perked up at that.

“How?” Rev asked.

The two staff sergeants exchanged a glance, then Hussein said, “We should be able to drill a hole, then use an Optisight.”

That seemed too easy to Rev. Drill a hole?

“Punch, what do you think?”

<I have no way to analyze the structure of the crates, but if they’re right, then it should work.>

Rev looked to Tomiko. “Since you’re here, what do you think?”

“Screw it. Let’s look. What’re they going to do to us? Shave our heads and put us in the brig? Besides, Pikachu just reminded me that no one here has authority over us. It’d have to be the Home Guard, and I think they’re a little too busy right now to deal with a few Marine SNCOs.”

It was her last comment that tipped the balance. The battalion might be administratively attached to the Marine division for support, but that was it. The brigade, and through them, the battalion, answered to the Home Guard and the CoH.

“Do it.”

Hussein ran off to find a drill, and the other three just stared at the crates.

“Any guesses?” Kelly asked.

“Whatever it is, it concerns the mission,” Rev said.

Hussein was back in a few minutes with a small drill and an Optisight. He offered the drill and Optisight to Rev, but Rev only took the sight and waved him forward.

“You’ve got it, Hus-man.”

With a smile, Hussein stepped up to the crate and rapped on it at several places before picking his spot. Rev had no idea if doing that made any difference. Knowing Hussein, it could have been just for show.

Rev felt his heart start pounding as Hussein applied the drill, and within moments, he was through.

That was a little bit of an anticlimax. Hussein stepped back, and Rev moved into position and inserted the optical cable into the hole, then dialed on the light that surrounded the tip.

He turned to the other three. “Hey, I think this is the first time I’ve actually used the light on one of these things.”

Tomiko punched him in the shoulder. “Who cares? Just look inside!”

Rev put his eye to the ring. The end of the Optisight was up against something. He backed it up a bit but still wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. They weren’t obvious weapons, nor was it ammunition.

“What are they?” he asked his battle buddy.

<NG-6 boosters.>

“Boosters? For what?”

<They can be attached to PALs for maneuverability in null-G.>

Shit.

Rev knew there were boosters for PALs, but they weren’t usually used. EVA suits, which he’d used several times before, were far more maneuverable and better employed in constrained spaces, such as in a ship.

He stepped back, and as the others stared at him, he pointed to the Optisight. Tomiko pushed forward and looked while Rev tried to figure out what that meant.

“Boosters?” Tomiko said.

The two staff sergeants looked to Rev for confirmation. “NG boosters. We’re going into space.”

20

The troopers in the battalion were expecting orders to drop at any minute, but when they finally did, it still seemed like a surprise. And it was short notice. Very short notice.

With the captain and the company officers pulled away for their officer stuff, and with the first sergeant first sergeanting, it was up to Rev to get the company ready to load the buses for the trip to the athletic fields that had been converted to a temporary spaceport.

Which was why he was standing in the armory at the moment in front of a frustrated-looking CWO5 Waring.

Rev was tempted to go up the ladder and get the captain involved. Let the Os work it out. But no. Rev was the Alpha Company gunny, and it was his job to take care of it.

“But we’re supposed to get Combat Kit-6s, Gunner,” Rev said.

“And did Sergeant Topal tell you we don’t have any more?”

Rev frowned. “She just said we’re not getting them.”

“Well, you’re not getting any more because we don’t have them.”

“I can see them behind you, Gunner.”

The chief warrant officer turned slowly, saw the dozen Combat Kit-6s, then turned back. “You’re not the only company in the battalion, Gunnery Sergeant.”

Chief warrant officers were former enlisted with specific skills who were raised into the officer ranks but served in limited positions relating to that expertise. A CWO5 was the most senior, and they’d been around a long time. Subsequently, they were highly respected. Normally, they didn’t wave around their rank when dealing with SNCOs, so his “Gunnery Sergeant” had been an obvious move to put Rev in his place.

But Rev’s duty was to Alpha Company, and he wasn’t just going to back down. Coupled with the NG boosters, the fact that the troopers were supposed to be issued the Combat Kit-6 told Rev a lot. That Combat Kit was issued for hybrid operations.

For pure vacuum ops, the troopers would be in EVAs and they’d probably get Combat Kit-4s issued. But with the boosters and the Combat Kit-6s, Rev knew that at least some of the operation would be in space. Maybe a ship takedown. And for that, the Combat Kit-4s that Sergeant Topal had said would make up the remainder of their issue would not be optimum for shipboard fighting.

“You’ve got to help me, Gunner,” he said. “You know as well as I do that Alpha will be the point of main effort for whatever we’re gonna do. And you’ve only given me enough CK-6s for one platoon. We can’t do what we’re supposed to do if we don’t have the right gear.”

“I know that, but I can’t just shit out more, Gunny. You’re going to have to go with the 4s.”

Rev stared at the chief warrant officer, who stared back for a long moment before breaking the connection.

“Hell, Gunny. OK. I can spring a few more, but that’s it. These are my reserve, so there really aren’t more I can give you.”

Rev didn’t change the expression on his face, but he felt vindicated. Warrant officers and SNCOs had the same DNA. He knew for a fact that the gunner would have something in reserve. He would have had he been in the same position.

The gunner turned to Topal and said, “Give Alpha those.”

She’d been smirking at Rev, but that changed at her new orders. “But—”

“Just do it, Topal.”

With that, he turned and left without another word.

Rev resisted saying anything to the sergeant. She’d just been following orders, after all. Her pouting was annoying as Rev’s working party loaded the extra Combat Kit-6s. Rev chose to ignore it, though. He hadn’t managed to get the entire company outfitted with the correct combat kits, but he’d count an extra squad getting theirs as a victory.

The sense of a win was short-lived as his wristcomp went off.

With a sigh, Rev asked, “What is it, Delacruz?”

“Supply’s giving Tan Master Tjivyrtzlin shit about the draw, and it’s getting heated.”

Crap. Just what I need now.

Bob was normally a calm, reasoned man. But if his Frisian friend got his ire up, he could get pretty aggressive. Rev did not need a fight with supply, not if he was going to somehow get the company ready on time.

Mother, spare me from angry Frisians.

“OK. I’m on my way.”

* * *

Somehow, despite the obstacles, all of the pallets and shipping containers were picked up on time, and every trooper was standing tall when the buses arrived to take them to the ballfields.

He’d made an off-hand comment to Senior Sergeant Wilczewski that it had been nip and tuck for a while, given all of the obstacles, and she’d just laughed before telling him that there were always obstacles, and yet the SNCOs somehow got it done.

Rev was taken somewhat aback. He hadn’t been fishing for compliments (well, not really, at least), but he certainly hadn’t expected that reaction. Truth be told, he was proud of the fact that they were ready. Rev had to jump through about a million hoops and wheel and deal to get it done, all with almost no sleep.

At least now I can take care of the lack of sleep, he told himself as the first shuttle descended onto the temporary spaceport.

How wrong he was. Yes, he’d managed to catch a few Zs as the shuttle lifted off, but from the moment they debarked the shuttle and embarked aboard the PUNS Brighton Bounty, his workload, if anything, increased.

Third Platoon had been assigned the same berthing as Charlie Company’s Second Platoon, and the tired and frustrated troopers almost came to blows until Rev and SFC Piaso arrived to calm things down.

Then half of the company’s PALs were loaded into an auxiliary compartment without the required power source to run the opchecks. With the ship underway, moving the PALs to the spaces with the equipment was out of the question, so the Navy engineers had to run power to their current space.

The Navy blamed the battalion’s embarkation officer, and Lieutenant Brody blamed the ship’s deck officer. The engineers just bitched about the extra workload, and as Rev had to oversee the process, he was handy to take the brunt of their complaints.

The heads in Second Platoon’s spaces didn’t work. The air conditioning in First Platoon’s spaces was blasting hot air.

In other words, the situation was normal. Only before, Rev was a platoon sergeant, reporting any problems up the chain. Now, as the company gunny, he was the chain.

It wasn’t until eighteen hours after they embarked that Rev had a moment to breathe. He needed sleep, but he was too wound up, so he wandered over to the chief’s mess, dialed up a chocolate cake, and sat down to eat it.

As was par for Navy chow, the cake was pretty damn good. Supposedly, the Navy fabricators were the same as in Marine chow halls, but Rev wasn’t sure he believed it. If that were true, then why did Navy chow taste better?

Rev used his finger to wipe up the last of the frosting, licked it clean, and then just sat for a moment, trying to muster up the energy to get up and head to his stateroom. Soon enough, another galaxy-shattering emergency would pop up, one that only he could fix. He wanted to be rested before that inevitably happened.

He probably should check in with the first sergeant and the skipper first, though. Both of them had been largely absent after they embarked as they worked on the operations plan. When Rev was ankle-deep in effluvium from the vomiting toilets, he’d wondered if he shouldn’t have taken Lieutenant Colonel Caplan’s offer to get commissioned. Sitting in a conference room hashing out the order wasn’t his idea of a good time, but it beat the hell out of what he was doing right then.

“Hey, Gunny!”

Rev looked up as a chief and a senior chief swung their legs around the tops of the chairs and sat down with him.

“Uh . . . hi.”

Both were wearing Navy tans, so they were part of the bridge crew. Rev rarely had much contact with the type—throughout his career, he’d mainly dealt with engineers, deck crew, and gunner’s mates.

“Welcome aboard the Bounty,” the senior chief said as he held out his hand. “Dante Nix.”

“Rev Pelletier, Senior Chief,” Rev said as he took the hand.

“Helen Amorant,” the chief said with her hand out. Rev took it, and she asked, “Coffee? We’ve got a great selection here.”

Of course, you do, Rev thought, holding back a smile.

Navy chiefs were notorious for having the best coffee on a ship. It was probably more reputation than fact, but he didn’t doubt that it was good. He was going to sleep as soon as he made it back to his stateroom, though, and he didn’t want the caffeine.

“No, thanks. I’m good.”

The chief nudged the senior chief.

He cleared his voice and asked, “So, what’s with the ghost ship?”

“Ghost ship?”

“Yeah, the one that’s not listed in the order of battle.”

Rev was confused, and he didn’t think it was because he was tired.

“If it’s a ship, then wouldn’t you Navy guys know?”

The senior chief seemed disappointed, but the chief spoke up. “You’re part of that combined human battalion, right?”

“Yeah. First Human Expeditionary. Why?”

“Well, you’re sort of elite. The best humanity’s got to show. So, we were hoping you might know who was in the Heg ship that we can see but isn’t there, if you know what I mean.”

No, he didn’t know what she meant.

“Punch, do you know anything about the ghost ship they’re talking about?”

<There are six Hégémonie Liberté ships in this flotilla, but I don’t think they are talking about any of those.>

“I just asked my AI about it, and he doesn’t know.”

Rev could be mistaken, but it looked like the chief recoiled ever so slightly after he mentioned Punch. That couldn’t be right, though. She worked on the bridge, and the navigator and weapons team all had the same AI implants.

But if she had flinched, she recovered immediately. “Some of us, we figured that you grunts put together a special ops team, but hush-hush. That would explain the ghost ship.”

“If it isn’t on the order of battle, how do you know it’s there?” Rev asked.

The two chiefs exchanged looks that almost screamed, “Ah, isn’t he cute.”

Rev felt his face redden. Of course, the ship would be able to detect other ships.

“The Bounty is a Northington-class cruiser. Trust us. We know it’s there.”

Rev shook his head. “I believe you, but I don’t know who might be on board, if there even is anybody. I mean, of course there are people on board. I mean ground troops.”

The two looked disappointed. “Well, it was worth a shot,” the senior chief said.

They stood up, and the chief asked, “You sure you don’t want any coffee?”

“Thanks, but I’m good.”

He watched them leave as his mind swirled. They’d gotten him curious.

“Why would they have a secret ship in the flotilla?” he asked Punch.

<Because they don’t want us to know it is here?>

“Was that supposed to be funny?”

<Was it funny?>

“No.”

<Then no, it wasn’t meant to be.>

Rev grunted. “And if I’d said it was funny?”

Punch didn’t reply.

I swear, he’s getting weirder and weirder.

Rev got up, left the chiefs’ mess, and headed back down to his stateroom. But his mind was whirling. Why would there be a ship with them that wasn’t noted on the order of battle? Punch, whether he’d been joking or not, was right. The brass didn’t want the Hégémonie ship to be common knowledge. But why not?

He entered his stateroom. Aldo Piaso wasn’t there, and with the SFC’s pack still on the deck, it didn’t look like he’d made it back. Which meant Rev had the choice of the top or bottom rack.

You snooze, you lose, Aldo.

He splashed some water on his face, then sniffed at his armpit. He was getting rank, but a sonic shower would have to wait.

He kicked off his boots and stripped down to his underwear, then looked at the racks. The bottom rack was traditionally the best one, and he was going to take it, but at the last moment, he ceded it to his stateroom mate. That way, when Piaso did make it back, he could easily get in the rack and get to sleep.

And sleep was what Rev was going to do now. Except his mind wouldn’t let go of the secret ship question, and he was afraid it was going to keep him awake.

It was an unfounded fear. Thirty seconds after his head hit the flat pillow, he was out cold.

21

“This is it,” Tomiko said as she nudged Rev with her elbow. “We’re finally finding out what’s going on.”

Rev held back a yawn. He’d gotten just over five hours of sleep before the call to get the company to the mess decks woke him up.

Piaso’s rack was messed up, but he was gone. Rev hadn’t noticed the Charlie Company gunny coming in nor leaving.

With Alpha and Bravo Companies in the mess decks, it was crowded. Rev, Tomiko, and Kelly stood in the back where they could watch over their troopers. The officers were up in the front, near the chow line.

Like most Navy mess decks, this one had 2D screens situated within view of every table. The rest of the battalion was in one of the hangars for the brief, so this was a little more comfortable.

The screens flickered on. Lieutenant Colonel Caplan was standing there, head cocked to the side as the sergeant major was whispering in his ear. Someone must have told him he was live. He looked up, and the sergeant major retreated out of view.

“Troopers of the First Human Expeditionary Battalion, we’re on the cusp of what will be the turning point of the war. I apologize that you’ve been kept in the dark so far, but once you understand what you’re facing, I’m sure you’ll understand why. It wasn’t until we entered bubble space that we were given the full scope of the operation.”

He paused for a long moment and stared at the pickup as if he could see them. “Before I turn this over to the staff, I’m going to give you the background of what’s happened. Seven months ago, a Heg Navy scout pilot entered NP-1033, a star system three-quarters of the way across the galaxy. She was part of a major human operation, with over a thousand scouts from most of the human navies. This was her fifth system. The other four hadn’t turned up anything.”

What was her mission?

It obviously concerned the war. Everything now concerned the war. But what did this pilot have to do with their current mission?

“This pilot—Premier-maître Mirabelle Bodin. You might want to remember her name—entered the system and prepared to run a survey when she picked up signs of civilization. As you can probably guess, they were nox. She’d found a nox presence. Soon after she determined that, she was painted by a surveillance beam. Now she had a choice. The beam might have detected her, but what did she know? Only that the nox were in the system. This was vital information, and she could have left the system, returned home, and been considered a success. But how much did she really know? How many nox were in the system? What was their posture?”

Rev didn’t like the direction this was heading. Scout pilots were certifiably crazy. They went off in tiny coffins they called ships, all alone, and traversed the black trying to gather information. If the mission had turned out to be routine, the CO wouldn’t be telling them this.

The thought of being alone in an alien star system, with bad guys coming on, made Rev shudder. He’d been in danger more times than he could count, but it was almost always with his fellow Marines or troopers.

“Premier-maître Bodin knew the mission came first, so she continued, gathering data so that the analysts could create better intel. She did this until she was jumped by a nox squadron and taken under fire.”

Shit. I knew it.

“She knew she was in deep kimchi. This was serious. Now, the most important thing was to get the information back to her headquarters, but as she was under fire, that was going to be a problem.”

He paused again for a moment and said, “I should back up here a moment. You might be wondering why she just didn’t use her Q-comms. What is not commonly known, though, is that at these distances, Q-comms are unreliable. We don’t know why. But that’s the reason every scout had three bubble-space-capable message torpedoes. Premier-maître Bodin knew she had to use those, so she uploaded all of the data she’d gathered, then made a run for bubble space.

“We’re not sure exactly what happened after she uploaded the torps. But from what we can tell from the recovered data, the scout pilot did not make it to safety. She had to drop her shields to launch the torps, and in doing so, her scout was destroyed.”

There was a long intake of breath from the gathered troopers, and numerous muttered, “Respect for the fallen.”

“Two of the three message torps were also destroyed. But one, badly damaged, made it into bubble space and emerged in the home system.

“It took months of forensic recovery to be able to read the data, which was finally achieved two weeks prior to the Nox assault on the home system and the other targets.”

It hit Rev what the CO was going to say next, and that explained why the Naxli had chosen then to launch their assault. They had to strike first.

“What Premier-maître Bodin had found was our next target. She’d discovered the Naxli home system.”

22

There was a heightened sense of urgency as First Platoon stood in their cradles. There had always been a mix of nerves and excitement before every operation Rev had been on, whether with the Marines, the Home Guard, or First Human. But this was different. Every trooper knew what was at stake. The CO had said they were at the turning point in the war. It was more than that. This operation could spell the end of the conflict.

Rev looked around the assault craft’s bay. In one way, it was like old times with the platoon. Familiar faces were among the troopers. He’d known Yancey since his first day in uniform, and Hussein for almost as long.

But there was also a sense of no longer belonging. Yancey was the platoon sergeant, and Rev was just along for the ride. In some ways, he thought it might be better to be with Third or Fourth, but Captain White Eagle thought that with his familiarity with First Platoon, he could better support it with his IBHU until Team Pashu was needed.

As if reading his thoughts, Tiwari looked over at Rev, caught his eye, and gave him a thumbs-up. Rev returned it.

The urgency was tempered by concern, though. Normally, for an operation of this scope, the participants would have spent months rehearsing. But due to the fact that the Naxli had operatives within human space, any major rehearsals would be noted, and the pattern of the rehearsals could give away the target.

The brass may have run through their operations plan a thousand times on the best combat AIs in existence, but AIs in the bowels of Titan were not going to be fighting the battle. It was the grunts on the ground and the sailors in the ships. Any advantage of surprise, even if it could be achieved, could be wasted by a poorly executed plan.

Rev was not alone in his opinion that the Naxli knew they were coming. They’d almost certainly launched their preemptive assault on humanity because of the scout pilot. They knew, or at least feared, that their home system had been discovered, and they hoped to force humanity to withdraw from the alliance.

Humankind had already proven itself to be more aggressive than the other races in persecuting the war, though. And now, with the Naxli offensive broken, they had to know humanity was coming for them.

“Do you think that the mobilization faked them out?” Rev asked Punch.

The command was making an attempt to hide the operation. The CoH had levied huge mobilization requirements upon the member governments. Masses of personnel were reporting to various training bases, creating what was possibly the largest number of people in uniform in the history of humankind.

If this operation was successful, most of those people would never actually leave their home planets. The hope was that the Naxli would see the mobilization and assume they had more time. Task Force Avenging Angel might catch the enemy by surprise.

<The reasoning is sound.>

“But . . .”

<The Naxli might have realized that mobilization is not the real point of main effort. Or they might have noted the actual embarkation of Task Force Avenging Angel. There are too many possibilities to be able to reasonably determine if they expected us.>

“And we won’t know that until we get out of bubble space.”

Which should happen in less than an hour. But that was only for the Bounty with the embarked troopers. The battle of the Naxli Home system was already in full force. The assault element of the flotilla had emerged in-system and could already be engaged as they maneuvered for an apparent attack on the planet. That was a feint, too, though.

The analysts, by poring over the data the scout had collected, had determined that the system was protected by a set of battle stations. If the naval assault element took the attack home against the Naxli’s planet, they would almost assuredly be devastated.

But if the hubs of the defense system, which were located inside asteroids, could be taken out, the entire defense system would be degraded, hopefully fatally. And that was the Phase I objective.

The First Human Expeditionary Brigade, all three battalions, had the mission, but they weren’t the point of main effort, at least not initially. The ghost ship that the two chiefs had asked Rev about, and their embarked unit, had the mission to break through the battle stations’ outward defenses to allow the brigade to breach them.

No one knew who that unit was, and the command wasn’t telling. Rumors crisscrossed the Bounty at the speed of light. It had to be an elite unit, but if the brigade was supposedly humanity’s best unit, then who could it be? Rev was betting on one of their allies—probably the Niklith. Nothing else made sense.

Rev checked the time. If everything was going according to plan, in nine minutes, the ghost ship would drop assault craft out of bubble space within kilometers of the three stations, and the Niklith—or whoever it was—would swarm them and find a way in.

Forty-three minutes later, the Bounty would drop out as well, discharging the assault craft the instant it emerged.

If the breaching force had been successful, the fate of the mission, and possibly that of humanity as a species, would be in the hands of slightly fewer than four thousand of humanity’s finest.

That was a lot of pressure to put on their shoulders, but Rev was bound and determined to succeed.

There simply was no room for failure.

* * *

“Twenty seconds,” the voice told them over the assault craft’s speakers. “May the Mother be with you.”

“This is it, Punch. We’re on.”

He was tempted to request another systems check. But he’d asked just ten minutes ago. He had a full combat load, and his NG booster was reading green.

Dropping out of bubble space, despite a millennia of practice, was not an exact science. While deflectors could push space dust aside, dropping out into the center of a planet would ruin anyone’s day, which is why ships usually emerged kiloklicks away from known significant bodies.

Dropping kiloklicks from their objective wasn’t going to cut it for this mission, though. They needed to be able to get through the breach and inside the station as quickly as possible. That meant pushing the envelope.

At ten seconds, Rev started to get nervous. This was normal for him when he was not in control of the situation. He didn’t like to be at the mercy of someone else’s actions. It wouldn’t even take a mistake from the Bounty’s navigational AI—they were slated to drop out of bubble space within the Naxli station’s probability of error—and as the station was within that range, a little bad luck and the ship and passengers would no longer exist.

At zero, the first wave launched a split second before the ship itself dropped. The cruiser was smaller than a dreadnought and only had two launch bays. That meant twenty-four assault craft preceded the ship into real space. If the operation was proceeding according to plan—mostly, had the faux attack on the home planet drawn away ships from the station and had the breaching force succeeded—the second wave, which consisted of twelve shuttles and carried the remainder of the battalion, would launch from fifteen to twenty seconds later while the Bounty provided fire support.

The assault craft’s compensators couldn’t completely dampen the effects as the craft maneuvered. The animation Rev had seen during the brief made the final approach look like an onion blossom, with each assault craft’s track spreading out to gain dispersion, then curving back to head for the target’s “underside,” when using the system’s z-axis.

First Platoon’s ride was at the “bottom left” of the assault, using the system’s orbital orientation. Depending on what the breaching team had achieved, the platoon would try to enter and clear the left side of the station. That was extremely fluid, however, and they needed to be flexible.

The assault craft had a screen on the overhead. The moment they dropped into real space, the station and the distance to it appeared. They were twenty-six klicks away, which was better than they’d hoped for.

Video feed of the station filled most of the screen. Most of it was like any other rocky body, but there were the unmistakable signs of artificial construction. Several flashes of light peppered the surface—the breach force in action. A track appeared on the screen as the assault craft maneuvered to expel the troopers.

A timer was running, and six seconds after they dropped, the entire station lit up with reflected light, knocking out the screen for a few moments.

“What the hell was that?”

<That was most likely the Brighton Bounty.>

“It’s firing on the station? What about the breach force?”

<No,> was all Punch said, and it hit Rev like a sledgehammer.

Punch meant that the flash was the reflected light from the Bounty. And if it was destroyed, then the rest of the battalion was gone.

Keep focused, Reverent, he had to tell himself as his stomach rebelled, and nausea threatened to overtake him.

The suddenness of the ship’s loss, along with so many troopers he knew, was almost too much to absorb. But he couldn’t dwell on what had just happened. The mission came first. He swallowed back the bile and forced himself to focus on what was coming next.

Now in position, the assault craft started its rotation.

“Five seconds,” the unseen pilot warned them.

Rev tensed up as the assault craft went belly forward to the Naxli station. One moment he was still in the Navy craft. The next moment, he was hurtling through the black as the station loomed larger.

Then he was slammed against the front of his PAL as an elephant sat on him. This was why they’d been issued the NG boosters. At their present speed, the troopers would be mangled piles of PAL parts and frozen gut chunks if they hit the rocky station. The boosters were now slowing them down. And at only twenty-one clicks when they were shot out of the assault craft, there wasn’t much real estate in which to get it done. That meant the boosters had to work overtime to keep them from becoming pancakes.

Rev checked the readouts on his face shield display. They were still green, indicating that the calculations were working out, so he should hit the asteroid in condition to fight.

The station kept getting larger as he approached but not quite as quickly. He could see individuals in combat suits on the surface of the asteroid, and flashes of light continued to mark the rocky terrain. A small vehicle of some kind emerged from around the other side of the station and started attacking the breach team. Rounds impacted, sending small puffs of dust and rocks outward.

Rev wasn’t helpless as he shot forward. He fired a Moray at the vehicle, then followed that with his beamer in pencil mode.

Whether it was his beamer or someone else’s, and before his Moray could have reached it, there was an explosion at the vehicle, and it veered off while uncontrollably spinning.

His warrior self gave a little shout, and his pulse raced. He might feel vulnerable out in the vacuum of space, but he was still a fighting Marine.

They were getting closer, and to Rev’s untrained eye, he still had too much forward velocity.

His numbers still read green, but he had to ask, “Is my display right? Are we still OK?”

<We’re decelerating on schedule.>

He trusted Punch, even if his eyes told him he was going to hit hard. He glanced around. Hvarser was off to his right, about a hundred meters away, while Brizzi and Tiwari were below at the same distance. They hadn’t pulled ahead or fallen behind him, so his speed was probably correct.

They were still on target, though, for their breach point where Rev could see a handful of the breach force. He was still far enough away not to be able to make out all the details, but he didn’t recognize the basic shape of the EVA suit, and they weren’t in PALs or any other allied combat suit.

“Can you enhance one of the breach force soldiers?”

Punch didn’t have the capability to do much more than what his PAL was already doing, so he just overlaid an outline on one of the distant figures.

“By the Mother,” Rev exclaimed as he recognized the shape. “They’re gennies!”

And it all fell into place—the ghost ship, the secrecy.

But why?

An individual Genesian was stronger, quicker, and generally a better fighter than any human, probably even a karnan. But they were pariahs within humanity. Rev had fought with them on Pakao, but that had been out of necessity. The idea that they were part of the task force frankly gave him the willies.

If the public found out . . .

But now that the shock was fading, he had to admit that it did make sense from a tactical standpoint. In a limited area, like the surface of the station, a strike team of Genesians could hit harder and have a better chance of breaching into the interior of the asteroid.

Screw it. If they can get us in, I’m all for that. Let the brass worry about any fallout.

As they continued to approach, Rev kept watching for the green terminal guidance light that would let them know their breach had been made. But with four minutes and forty-three seconds until touchdown, a red light started flashing at their target.

The Genesians were waving them off.

Crap!

Fortunately, the plan had taken that into account. First Platoon’s alternate was Second Platoon’s breach point. They had to divert.

Rev took control of the booster, located Second Platoon’s breach point, and adjusted his course. Several other red lights appeared, but their new objective went green while they were still a minute out.

Cutting it close, gennies.

If the breaches hadn’t been made, the troopers would have taken over the efforts, but this was going to make their entry easier.

With the course correction, First Platoon would arrive after Second, but without much of a gap. It would be a logjam with both platoons at the breach at the same time. That had been taken into account in the movement to contact planning, though.

The Naxli knew the humans were there, but it still made sense to limit any sort of transmissions that would give the enemy data to analyze. There were other means to communicate, though. Rev’s face shield flashed with blue light. The lieutenant had been issued a signal laser. The small device visually tracked all of the members of the platoon, and when activated, fired a three-second burst at their helmets.

Rev immediately poured more power into his boosters. They were still decelerating, so this only increased the G-force. But it was effective. Rev could see the Second Platoon troopers seemingly accelerate past them. Of course, they weren’t really accelerating. It was First decelerating.

They were getting closer with each passing moment. Second Platoon reached the station, and as a spectator, Rev watched the troopers disappear through the breach while half a dozen gennies surrounded the opening. One of those troopers was Tomiko, but Rev couldn’t pick her out.

“May the Mother protect you, Miko,” he muttered.

The last-minute maneuvering seemed to take longer than the transit from the Bounty, but the last Second Platoon trooper was disappearing inside the Naxli station as the first First Platoon troopers converged on the entrance.

Rev’s team was to follow First, so as he slowed to a stop about a hundred meters off the surface, he motioned for his three troopers to form on him. A broken genny, legs and part of their torso gone, rotated lazily fifteen meters in front of him.

“Respect for the fallen,” he whispered, then said, “Record that,” to Punch.

Even though it probably wouldn’t be needed, at least it was a record of where the dead genny was for recovery.

One by one, First Platoon flew into the breach, which was about a two-meter-diameter hole. That was more than large enough for a trooper in a PAL, even an IBHU, but still, Rev felt a touch of claustrophobic anxiety. Yancey must be having a really hard time.

And then it was time. Rev led his team, flying to the breach opening. Two of the gennies at the entrance raised arms in salute as he approached them.

That’s probably because of my IBHU.

Rev performed a Cheung Turn just short of the opening and entered feetfirst. The initial scans indicated that the station had artificial gravity to augment the minuscule pull of the station itself. If the AG was still functioning, Rev didn’t want to fall head-first through the breach.

Unlike Rev’s assault on Asteroid 6-067-442, this breach was without a breaching tube. Rev wasn’t sure what the gennies had used to cut through the station’s crust, but a simple Kikko Barrier, which used the same technology as a hangar curtain on a ship, had been emplaced around the opening to keep air from escaping. A Kikko wasn’t as secure as a breaching tube, and it didn’t have any actual penetration ability, but when speed was of the essence, it was the preferred choice.

The AG field kicked on the moment he passed the outer skin of the station. Within two meters, it had reached full strength. It felt less than Safe Harbor’s gravity, but it would be enough to keep him grounded.

The breach, which glowed with retained heat, emerged slightly off-center in a large corridor. Rev hit, flexing his knees to absorb the shock. A genny was standing to the side and was directing him to the left. Rev got out of the way just as Tiwari landed behind him. The Dalit hit the deck and almost lost his balance before his PAL’s gyros took over. Still, Hvarser clipped him on the shoulder as she landed, sending both of them stumbling.

Rev grabbed Tiwari and pulled him free, leaving enough room for Hvarser to clear the spot before Brizzi landed.

“That’s the last of us,” Rev told the genny, who didn’t reply but lifted a hand in acknowledgment.

“On me,” he told his troopers as he started following First Platoon.

“Team Pashu is inside the objective,” he passed to the company commander. “We’re following in trace of First.”

His comms suite’s display was a steady green, but he wasn’t sure if his transmission was getting through the rock to reach the captain, who was with Third Platoon.

A concussion wave washed over the team. It wasn’t particularly strong, but it was a good indication that the fight was on full tilt.

“Lieutenant, I don’t have an acknowledgment from the skipper,” he passed to Grayson. “But we’re right behind you. If you need us, give me a shout.”

“Roger that. We’re in contact now, but nothing we can’t handle,” he passed back.

Rev and his team kept advancing. There were several scorch marks on the walls of the corridor, and they had to step over two dead Naxli, both in robust-looking forms that Rev wasn’t familiar with. The musculature was obvious, but there was little, if any, organic armor covering their skin. After almost thirty meters, the corridor opened into a much larger one, about five meters in diameter and with a track running along the ground. Seven troopers were in sight, hugging the walls.

The troopers only had a rough map of the station, and most of what they did have was closer to the outer crust. Whatever was in the interior was more of a mystery. But if what they had was accurate, this larger corridor was a main thoroughfare, and it slanted down (closer to the center) until it opened into a large space.

Rev told his three troopers to hold fast, and he edged forward, trying to get a visual on the open space.

There were intermittent sounds of firing, both the soft whizzes of the M-51s and an occasional Naxli BFG report. Neither Randigold nor Cocker had fired their twenty-millimeter cannon that he could hear, but they could have used their beamer.

“What do you have up there?” he asked Sergeant Haroldsdotter, who, with Strap still recovering from his wounds, was the acting squad leader.

“The rest of the platoon’s clearing the space up ahead. We were told to hold back,” she answered.

Rev contemplated moving past Fourth Squad and to the edge of the larger compartment. Then his team would be able to react quicker if needed. He was just about to call the team forward when a blast from Tiwari’s M-103 filled the corridor.

Rev spun around. Fifteen meters behind him, Brizzi was standing in the middle of the corridor, blasting away with one hand on his M-51 while directing Hvarser and Tiwari with his other hand.

Rev’s stomach lurched, and he bolted to join them. He’d just pulled a rookie mistake. He’d forgotten about the rear. Merely because the gennies were behind them didn’t mean the rear was secure. This was a station, after all, and there might be numerous passages that the Naxli could take to emerge into the corridor behind them.

Luckily, Brizzi hadn’t forgotten. The carabinieri had oriented the three of them to the rear and had spotted the Naxli.

A dozen or so Naxli, hit by the three troopers, were retreating around the bend in the corridor where they had some cover. Rev managed to fire a burst from his twenty, the rounds passing within half a meter of Brizzi. Two Naxli fell to join three more bodies on the floor before the others darted back out of sight.

Something small hit the left wall, ricocheted along the floor, then passed through the team and spun to a stop between them and Fourth Squad.

“Take cover!” Rev shouted as he dropped down, feet toward the object.

A moment later, an explosion filled the corridor, and shrapnel pinged along the walls.

“Heads up!” Brizzi shouted, and almost immediately, Naxli poured around the bend again. They’d used the grenade as a distraction and were in full assault mode.

But the team was ready. Tiwari fired another forty-millimeter flechette round, knocking one of them off its feet while Rev swept a guillotine beam.

The entire front rank went down, which surprised Rev. His beamer was pretty effective, and the range was short, but the Naxli he’d fought before seemed to have more robust armor than these.

While his beamer recharged, more Naxli charged around the bend.

“Per, high. Jenk, low,” Brizzi shouted as the three charged forward.

Rev was taken momentarily by surprise, and he was half a second behind the others.

The hours his three team members had put in were obvious as they ravaged the nearest Naxli. That opened up the rest for Rev, whose beamer cut through the next rank.

The Naxli were scoring hits, too, but with the onslaught by the four troopers, they couldn’t mass enough fire to defeat the PAL’s armor. Five, ten, fifteen of them fell as the team rounded the bend. The pure ferocity of their charge, and the numbers of Naxli cut down, made the remaining Naxli falter. That was a fatal mistake.

Before they could resume their own assault, the combined firepower of the four troopers ate them up. By this time, a good ten seconds after Brizzi started their charge, Rev’s IBHU had taken over. Between his beamer and twenty, the Naxli had no answer. The final few remaining Naxli turned to retreat, slipping past the next bend before they were hit.

Rev’s warrior was raring for more, and he vaulted over dead Naxli to give chase when Brizzi shouted, “Cease fire.”

Rev automatically reacted, stifling his warrior self, and his rational self realized that the carabinieri was right. Their position was with the platoon, not chasing a few Naxli into what could very well be an ambush. He took three deep breaths, then looked at the carnage. Eighteen dead or nearly dead Naxli littered the floor, blackish-blue blood making the footing slippery. Rev carefully stepped back over the bodies, Pashu trained down the corridor. But the Naxli didn’t make a reappearance.

He joined his three troopers.

“Is everyone OK?”

“My PAL’s compromised, na,” Tiwari said. “I took a hit on the shoulder that knocked the web control out of whack.”

Rev gave the corporal a quick check. Cracks radiated from the shoulder. He’d been hit flush with a BFG round, and the impact had damaged his shielding. He was now far more vulnerable to energy weapons.

“How about you? Are you OK?” Rev asked.

Tiwari rotated his arm. “It feels like I got hit with a cricket bat, toh, but everything’s working.”

Behind them, from the rest of the platoon, the firing increased, this time joined by the two IBHU Marines. First was engaged, and the Naxli plan became clear. They’d wanted to send an assault force around the platoon and catch them in the crossfire.

With a more disciplined attack, or without Brizzi being on the ball, it might have worked.

“Good job, Luca,” Rev said. “All three of you. But we’re not done.”

The four retreated back to Fourth Squad. An anxious-looking Haroldsdotter shook her head in relief as they came around the bend.

“What happened, Gunny?”

“Some noxes wanted to come up and join the party. We disinvited them.”

“About twenty,” Hvarser said.

Haroldsdotter raised her eyebrows in surprise. Rev didn’t know if that was because so many Naxli had tried to outflank them or that all four humans were standing there, still combat-effective.

The fighting from the front took another jump in tempo, and they all looked up. Rev almost called the lieutenant, but she sure didn’t need him to be taking her attention away from the fight.

He could still edge closer, though.

“Make sure you secure the rear. They could come back,” he told the sergeant, then he signaled his team to follow him.

They carefully moved forward while the members of Fourth Squad watched them pass through. Within thirty seconds, they’d advanced far enough to see the entrance to the open space. They couldn’t see much of what was happening inside—only four troopers at the entrance, and flashes lighting up the walls.

The fight sounded intense, but he couldn’t tell by sound alone who was prevailing. He stopped the team, wondering if he should go farther, when, with a rush, Fourth Squad came running past them.

“We’re getting called up,” the sergeant said as she ran by.

“Why didn’t I hear anything?” Rev muttered.

<You’re on the company net.>

Rev wanted to smack himself. That was his second mistake in just ten minutes. After reporting to the lieutenant that they were in the station, he’d changed over to the company net to try and contact the skipper. And he hadn’t reverted to the platoon net, which as the company gunny, had to be proactively done.

“Keep both nets open,” he told Punch.

Suddenly, an explosion erupted from ahead, with dust billowing into the corridor. There was a momentary lull in the humans’ outgoing fire, and Rev’s stomach jumped to his throat. But then one twenty fired a burst, and as more and more troopers started firing again, the second IBHU began to fire.

Rev wanted to rush into the fight, but he held back as Haroldsdotter took her squad forward and disappeared up a row between machinery of some kind.

Another weapon joined the fight—not a human weapon, and something Rev hadn’t heard before.

“Punch, what’s that?”

<I don’t have anything in my database to match the reports.>

It kept firing steadily. Whatever it was, it sounded big. The human return fire slackened—Rev hoped it was because the troopers were taking cover and not because they’d been taken out of the fight.

“Gunny, is your team available?” Lieutenant Grayson asked over the P2P a full minute after the explosion.

Technically, Team Pashu was a company asset, to be deployed by the skipper. But Rev wasn’t going to stand on procedure. He was out of comms with the company commander, and First Platoon needed him.

“What do you have?”

“We’re pinned down,” he said as he pushed a photo to him.

The photo showed a large space filled with unfamiliar machinery. Alongside the walls were columns of transparent, well-lit tubes. Bubbles appeared to be rising up through them.

They reminded Rev of the O2 generators he’d seen in some of the old colony ship holovids.

Grayson had overlaid the image with the platoon members’ positions, then an arrow pointing to a gap between the tubes from where they were taking fire.

It was immediately clear what the problem was. The enemy fire was an ambush. The platoon had been moving up through the middle of the space, taking fire from the front. The enemy had waited until the platoon was committed before opening up on their flank, and now the troopers were stuck in a kill zone. The machinery gave them some cover, but to try and assault through the ambush, they’d be terribly exposed.

Crap. I should have been with them.

Rev wouldn’t have been caught like that. The need for speed did not trump tactical security. Granted, the lieutenant was not trained infantry, but Yancey should have stepped in. Or Hussein. They knew better.

But the very nature of the Naxli position offered an opportunity.

Rev realized all of that within a few seconds, and he replied, “I think we can help. But we’re going to need covering fire to the front. Give me a moment, and I’ll tell you when.”

“Roger that, but hurry.”

Hurrying is what got you into this mess.

But he did understand the gravity of the situation. He pulled in the other three and pushed the image to them.

“The platoon’s pinned down by whatever’s to the left. But they’re within the tube things. That means, if we’re quick and hug the line of tubes, we should be able to advance without being taken under fire.”

Brizzi immediately saw the weakness of that. “We’ll be exposed to the noxes in the front. Very exposed.”

“I told the lieutenant we need covering fire.”

“I hope they can get it done,” the carabinieri said, not sounding too confident.

“We have to count on it.”

Rev pulled an MG-5 grenade out of his thigh holster. The relatively small grenade could spread out a moderate amount of shrapnel, but its concussion was significant.

“This first. Then the instant it detonates, we step forward and let loose. Any questions?”

“Gunny, we need you now,” the lieutenant passed.

“We’re on our way. Give me all the fire you can.”

It took a moment, but the outgoing fire picked up. Rev could hear both IBHUs in the mix.

“Now!”

Rev bolted forward into the space, then immediately darted to the left. The other three were on his butt as they reached the tube-covered wall. Hugging it as close as they could, they started to run forward.

There was clear, unobstructed space ahead of them, all the way to the far side. Rev could almost feel the Naxli targeting them, but the covering fire must have been keeping them occupied because nothing came their way. Rev came to a halt just short of the opening, back against the wall. The Naxli inside the gap were keeping up a heavy volume of fire, and he could hear them moving around.

He was tempted to use his Optisight to look around the corner, but they were extremely vulnerable to the Naxli on the far side, and any moment now, they’d be spotted and taken under fire. There was no time.

Rev put the grenade in his IBHU’s grasping “fingers” and armed it with his right arm, giving it a two-second fuze. He wasn’t as dexterous with the IBHU, but he didn’t want to face the wall, then expose his organic arm to the firing. He didn’t want to become the first “double IBHU.”

Whipping Pashu around, he released the grenade. Naxli shouts of alarm reached them, and then the grenade went off, sending a shock wave out of the gap.

Rev was immediately moving, blindly firing his twenty at waist level into what he saw was a cubbyhole of sorts, less than three meters deep. Liquid was spraying in thumb-wide streams across the opening from the tubes on either side. One Naxli soldier was face-first on the deck behind what looked like a large, crew-served weapon. A shield had protected the weapon and gunner, but Rev’s grenade must have cleared the shield to land just beyond it. Two more Naxli were scrambling backward on their butts up against the rear wall. Rev had been aiming high. He adjusted down, taking out one of them, while Tiwari blasted the other.

Like a hover going through a wash, Rev rushed through the streams of liquid to make sure the three were dead.

Mistake. There was a meter-and-a-half gap behind the columns, and as Rev kicked over the prone Naxli, he took fire from the left. He immediately tried to engage with Pashu, but she was too long, and her muzzle hit the wall.

Rounds impacted him as he started to pull back, but the wet deck made the footing slippery.

Brizzi dove forward, slid under Rev’s feet, and brought up his M-51 in the same motion. He fired a burst and cut down the Naxli who was charging forward. Not waiting to watch him fall, the carabinieri twisted around, ready to engage anyone on the right side. His motion had been so smooth that it might have been choreographed by the stunt coordinator for the latest action holovid.

Rev regained his balance, then stepped away from the wall. “Thanks, Briz.”

“Damage assessment?” he asked Punch.

<Reactive armor on the left torso is damaged. Twenty-six-percent effective.>

Crap. One more impact . . .

“Lieutenant, we’ve cleared—”

A large crack filled the air, and the team spun around an instant before the column on the left simply collapsed. Thousands of liters of liquid burst free, sweeping the four troopers off of their feet, out of the gap, and across the open area to come to a stop amongst the nearest pieces of machinery.

“That was toh interesting,” Tiwari said as he regained his feet.

“Interesting, Per? That’s what you call it?” Hvarser asked.

“What happened,” Lieutenant Grayson asked on the P2P. “What was that?”

“One of the columns burst. But you’re clear.”

With the side ambush gone, the platoon was able to assault forward. Within a few minutes, they’d reached and cleared the other side. As they started to push farther into the station, Rev and his troopers surveyed the scene. Doc Korblath was working on four troopers.

“See if she needs any help,” he told Hvarser and Tiwari.

One of the troopers was beyond help. The legs were still barely attached to the rest of the PAL, but most of the middle was gone, and the back of the helmet was cracked open. The water from the column had just reached this far and pushed the body into the base of one of the machines.

The damage was significant, and it had to have been done by the crew-served gun. That was the first time Rev had seen that particular weapon, and he hoped it was the last time. If he’d been hit with it instead of the Naxli’s normal personal weapon back there, then he’d be in the same shape as this poor soul.

Rev knelt and grabbed what was left of an arm. He pulled the body free and out into the aisle. He straightened the legs and was going to leave it there when he wondered who it was.

He couldn’t just twist the legs. The body wouldn’t follow, so he stepped forward, took the body by the shoulder, and turned it over.

“By the Mother,” he said, his body going numb.

His mouth turned sour, and he wanted to vomit.

<I’m pushing antiemetics.>

“Hus-man! What did you do?”

Staff Sergeant Hussein Černý didn’t respond. He never would respond again.

“Gunny, are you OK?” Brizzi asked.

No, I’m not OK, he told himself as he shook his head to clear it. But I’ve got to be.

He took a couple of deep breaths. He’d mourn later, but now he had a job to do.

“Doc, how are you doing?” he asked, refusing to look at Hussein’s face.

“Izzie’s stabilized. The others, well, I’ve done what I can.”

“Can we move Istep?”

“That should be OK.”

“Per, Jenk, take Istep. Brizzi, you’ve got Tail End Charlie. Let’s move up.”

He gave one last glance to his friend. Memories started to flood over him, and it took an effort of will to banish them and follow his team and Doc out of the space.

* * *

Fifteen hours later, the outcome was pretty much assured. The station was slowly but surely falling into human hands. The reserve force had shifted to Second Battalion’s objective, leaving the mopping up on First Battalion’s objective to them.

Rev had been surprised at how relatively easy it had been, at least in comparison to expectations. The Naxli had fiercely fought to defend their turf, and human casualties had been high. But it seemed as if the number of soldiers they faced was limited.

Rev toed over the Naxli body on the ground. At about forty kilograms, it looked something like a praying mantis made of wax that had started to melt, blurring the features. The human-like eyes were a bit disconcerting, something so familiar in such an alien body.

It was mostly naked, draped in an ill-fitting combat harness of some type. Rev got the feeling that the harness wasn’t made for it.

This, if the xenobiologists were right, was the “real” Naxli body, the one they had at birth and before they shifted into something else. More and more of this form were opposing the advancing humans.

“Why are these guys up here?” Hvarser asked as she looked at the body. “I mean, they can’t fight.”

“Resources. Remember the brief we got?”

“What brief?”

Rev had to think back. Was the Alliance soldier there with them when that civilian woman had briefed them on Safe Harbor?

Maybe not.

“When they shift, that takes a lot of energy. Not just the shifting itself but maintaining the body. We’re up here in a station. Moving supplies up the gravity well from their planet has a cost. So maybe they stayed this way to be more efficient. And we’re in their home system. I doubt that they expected to be attacked,” Rev said.

“Hell, the lemmings are smaller than them, and they can put up a bigger fight.”

“The lemmings are soldiers,” Brizzi said. “These pieces of shit aren’t infantry. They’re probably the techs who run this place and keep the system defense operating. There’s no way they can stand up to us.”

Rev didn’t want to be dismissive of any enemy, but the carabinieri might be right. Once the initial clashes had been won, it seemed as if the entire station was falling at breakneck speed.

Comms repeaters were being spread as the human footprint grew, so progress was being passed. The last report Rev received was that the station was 85% secure. It was only a matter of time now.

“Gunny, where are you now?” the captain passed.

They might have seeded the area with comms repeaters, but that didn’t mean their combat systems were fully functional. There was a lot of rock that blocked the signals.

“In trace of Third at the chow hall.”

Rev didn’t know if the space really was a chow hall. But with multiple tables and the weird chairs, made for their praying mantis bodies, it had the feel of one.

“I’ve got a mission for you. We had to bypass a room, and I want it cleared.”

“You bypassed a space?” Rev asked, rather surprised.

Doing that left a vulnerability to the rear, something no commander wanted. And with that, whatever else the unit accomplished, this area could not be declared secure.

“We were moving too quickly in pursuit of a larger group of noxes. So that’s why I’m giving this to you.”

The captain sent over a map. It wasn’t a real-time, dynamic map, but a snapshot of one. It showed the route the captain and Second Platoon had taken with the space in question marked.

“I’ve got it, sir. You got anything on it?”

“Only that there are lifeforms inside.” There was a pause, and then, “I’ve got to go. We’re in contact. Six, out.”

“OK, I guess we’ve got it,” Rev said to an empty net.

He turned to his three troopers. “We’ve got a mission. The skipper bypassed a space and wants us to clear it.”

“He bypassed it?” Brizzi asked.

“Yeah, I know. But now it’s ours. Let’s get going.”

Rev led them forward. He gave Bob a thumbs-up as they passed through Third Platoon, and then they were on their own. It wasn’t difficult to follow the map. Four minutes later, they were outside the space.

As Rev studied the robust-looking door, Brizzi sidled up to him and asked, “Any chance I can take this?”

Rev looked at the carabinieri with raised eyebrows.

“I am the second in command here, Gunny. I need to be able to take over if . . .”

“If I get waxed?”

“Well, yes.”

Rev snorted, and Brizzi hurriedly added, “It’s not like they’re the soldiers in there. It’ll be the little ones. We could send Boy Scouts after them.”

“They’ve still got guns,” Rev said.

Brizzi was looking at him with naked excitement, and he had made a point. Rev might not always be around, and while Brizzi had taken the team in training, he hadn’t in combat.

“OK, Primo Caporale Maggiore, you’ve got it.”

Brizzi almost yelped for joy. Rev wanted to remind him that this wasn’t a game. Combat was serious, but since he’d already put him in charge, he just kept quiet.

Brizzi surveyed the door, and he came to the same conclusion that Rev had. It was a strong structure, one that would stand up to what they had with the team. So, he sent Hvarser back as a runner to grab four MM-183 breaching charges from Third Platoon.

The Alliance soldier was back within ten minutes, and Brizzi went to work. The breaching charges were not designed to destroy the door. They had low brisance but a lot of power, which meant they would blow the door off whatever hinges or supports kept it in place.

With sure, smooth movements, Brizzi emplaced the charges. Rev had Punch check them, but they were emplaced correctly. Then he positioned the four team members. He assigned himself as the Number 1, the first to enter the space. Rev wouldn’t have done that. Armed with an M-51, Brizzi didn’t have the firepower Rev or Tiwari had. To be honest, Rev would have put himself as the Number 1, using his IBHU as the reasoning. He did it at the fight in the space with the water tubes, after all.

But that gave him pause. Different weapons aside, he thought it would sound disingenuous if he stepped in and told Brizzi not to go first.

Besides, the M-51 had proven to be more than effective against the unarmored original version Naxli.

Rev stood back while Brizzi went through his paces. The soldier was good. Very good. He deserved to be in a position of leadership. Rumor had it that the carabinieri had unknown hyper-augments of their own, but whether they did or not, Brizzi was the real deal. Rev almost felt guilty he’d pulled him from Third Platoon.

Almost.

Finally, they were ready. Brizzi set the charges at consecutive detonations—they would be extremely close together but not in unison, which was the textbook SOP for their use in this situation.

“Fire in the hole,” Brizzi said. “Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . Go!”

The charges detonated, knocking the door askew. Brizzi was immediately on the move, darting for the gap on the left side. He fired in through the gap before turning to his side to slide in. Rev started to follow when there was a thunderous blast, and Brizzi seemed to come apart, splattering blood over Rev and Tiwari.

Rev just reacted. He pulled Brizzi aside and thrust Pashu ahead. He had a glimpse of a single Naxli standing at the back of the room. In its fore-pinchers was one of the biggest handguns Rev had ever seen. It was like looking down the mouth of an 18th Century cannon.

Rev tried to twist Pashu around to bring her to bear, but the warped door was acting like a safety cutout, preventing him. He tried to force her, expecting the handgun to fire again. But instead of firing, the Naxli threw the weapon where it clanged off of the inside of the door.

Single shot? Your loss.

Rev pulled back, which gave him the clearance to aim at the Naxli. Tiwari dove at Rev’s feet, and he fired at the same time as Rev. The forty-millimeter flechette round and eight twenty-millimeter cannon rounds slammed into the Naxli, shredding the thing. Blue-black ichor splattered the back wall.

Tiwari squirmed through the opening. Rev was a moment later, followed by Hvarser.

The mangled Naxli had been alone in the room. It took only a moment to clear it.

“Six, this is eight,” Rev passed on the P2P. “Objective is secure.” He paused for a moment, then added, “One friendly KIA.”

“Shit. Who?”

“Brizzi.”

“Well, fuck. Any chance at resurrection?”

Rev looked back. He could just see Brizzi’s body through the gap. It looked bad, but he couldn’t see how bad.

“Don’t know, sir. I’ll check.”

“OK. We’re wrapping up here. Get Brizzi back to Doc.”

“Aye-aye, sir. Eight, out.”

The other two were staring at him. Well, Tiwari was staring. Hvarser kept shifting her look from Rev to Brizzi and back again.

“Let’s get him to Doc,” was all he said.

The three of them slipped out of the room. Brizzi was still alive, his body fighting to hang on. Rev jacked in to him and told Punch to initiate the med pack for someone hurt this badly.

And Brizzi was in serious trouble. His chest had a massive hole blown right through the PAL. But the helmet seemed undamaged, so hopefully, his brain was OK.

His two troopers picked their fellow team member up, and together, they rushed back to Third Platoon.

Brizzi was dead by the time they got him to Doc Korblath. The corpsman got right to work to stabilize the carabinieri. There was no word on when they’d be able to get their KIA to the hospital ship, but Doc had to act as if it would be in time.

Rev silently watched the corpsman work. It seemed incomprehensible that Brizzi, one of the best soldiers he’d seen during his career, had been taken down—not by a soldier Naxli, but by one of the original, non-military kind.

The gods of war had proven, once again, how fickle they were.

Thirty-three minutes after Brizzi died, the station was declared secure. The mission had been accomplished.

23

“I’m proud of you guys,” Rev told his two surviving team members.

“I guess we really kicked some ass,” Hvarser said.

“That we did. That we did.”

The company KIAs were a gutshot, as always. Hussein and Brizzi hit him particularly hard.

“Do you think Briz is going to make it?” Tiwari asked.

“That’s up to the zombie team. We got him out in time, but he took a lot of hurt.”

Brizzi’s head had been intact, his brain undamaged. But that didn’t mean he had an easy route to resurrection. The body still had to be healed, and with that much damage, it was no sure thing.

Hussein . . . there was no chance for him, and that was a hole gnawing at Rev’s heart. He grieved but hadn’t wholly allowed himself to come to grips with his friend’s loss yet. Maybe he wouldn’t until he saw his name on the memorial in Anastasia.

Even with the grief, he was still feeling the euphoria of being alive with the mission accomplished. This dual grief and joy always made him feel guilty that he was alive when others had paid the ultimate price, but over the years, while the losses were no less real, he’d taken a pragmatic approach to the deaths. They’d lost their brothers in arms, but many more had survived.

It was hard to believe that they had succeeded. They were in the enemy system, for the Mother’s sake. The defenders inside the stations might not have been front-line troops, but they were on their home turf, and there had been more of them than their human attackers.

Second Battalion did not have the same degree of success, their assault being stopped before more than a few of the karnans made it inside the station. But even if the karnans didn’t knock out their node, Phase 1 of the operation had dealt a terrific blow to the Naxli defenses. Now, when the main body arrived, it would be ship against ship. And unless the Naxli had something amazing up their sleeves, the human ships should prevail.

Which led to the part that no one wanted to dwell on. They’d taken two of the stations at what the brass would think was a reasonable cost, but this was small potatoes. There had to be far more Naxli on the planet, and they’d be fighting for their lives.

The brigade wouldn’t be going at it alone, of course. This would be the largest military operation in human history, even without allied participation. But it would also be the largest death toll in human history. Invading the home planet was not going to be easy, and it was going to take a tremendous amount of resources, both in personnel and equipment.

It didn’t have to be that way, though. Humanity didn’t have the technology to scour a world in the same way the Naxli had, but they could bomb it back into the stone age, destroying most of the life and infrastructure. The Navy would suffer heavy losses, but the ground troops wouldn’t be used except to mop up.

To Rev’s way of thinking, that was a good thing. Why waste lives? He’d do his duty, no matter the risk, but all things considered, he’d rather sit here in the Naxli station while the Navy had target practice.

Rumor had it that it was their allies who were nixing a bombardment. They didn’t want to sink to the Naxli’s level. Rev didn’t give a crap about the Uauii or the rest. Unless they were contributing to the fight, they shouldn’t have any say in the matter.

No one, at least down at their level, had any idea if there was any allied support, which was absurd. The Naxli had been their enemy for decades, and this was the chance to cut the head off the snake. Why wouldn’t they jump at the chance?

It was obvious to Rev that the Genesians had done just that. And he was grateful. Whatever they were trying to prove to the rest of humanity, they’d taken heavy casualties making the attack on the station possible. Without them getting the troopers inside, Rev wasn’t sure they’d have beaten the Naxli.

“What now, Gunny?” Tiwari asked.

“Now, we get some rest. I want two of you awake around the clock. Who knows if there’re noxes hiding out in some nook and cranny. Even if there aren’t any, they could decide to try and take this place back.”

“Not that it will do any good, na. This place is trashed,” Tiwari said. “All of their equipment has been destroyed.

“Even so, we still don’t want to get into another fight right now, especially without a resupply.”

With the loss of the Bounty, the battalion’s resupply of ammunition and supplies was gone. Rev would guess that with the station taken, they were no longer the point of main effort, and so they weren’t high on the priority list. But he had to find out.

“I’m going to put on my company gunny hat now and see what I can scrounge up. Per, you’re in charge. Set up the watch.”

“What about Delacruz? Can we toh use him?” Tiwari asked.

Rev looked across the space where the company clerk was sitting, back up against the wall, helmet off, head in his hands. He looked exhausted. Or it could be shock. With the first sergeant KIA, Rev was now his immediate senior.

“Yeah, put him in the rotation. But let me get him.”

He walked across the space and stood over the corporal, who didn’t look up. “You with me, Delacruz?”

The bleary-eyed NCO looked up and seemed surprised to see Rev standing there. “Oh, sorry, Gunny. Yes, I’m with you,” he said as he stood.

“That was a pretty rough go,” Rev said.

Delacruz sniffed, then said, “I . . . the first sergeant . . .”

“The first sergeant was killed in the line of duty. You know that. And you did what you could.”

Rev could see the company clerk was hurting, and he wondered if he’d missed something between the two of them. He’d been so concerned about his team that he hadn’t spent much time in the office. From the look of things, though, Wilczewski might have been a mentor to the young corporal.

“But maybe if I—”

Rev cut the corporal off. “And if you did something different, someone else would have been killed. Maybe you. No, you fought and fought well. But now we’re in a different phase, and I need you.

“Can I count on you, Dej?”

“Yes, Gunny. I’m here. I’ll get whatever I need to get done.”

He clapped Delacruz on the shoulder and said, “I know you will. Now go join Tiwari, and he’ll get you in the watch schedule. I’ll go try and see what’s going on, but I’m going to need you to help get the company going again.”

Delacruz nodded and started to step around Rev when there was a soft whump of displaced air, then some startled exclamations.

Rev spun around, bringing Pashu to bear . . . and stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth falling open.

A Sia had just appeared in the space as if teleported like in the scifi televids. The alien didn’t mass much, but it filled the space, its gas bag bumping up against the overhead while its tentacles were splayed out across the deck.

“What the hell?” Rev asked, Pashu aimed in on the gasbag’s center mass. “And how did that thing get in here?”

Tiwari and Hvarser were at the ready, too. Together with Rev, they’d slipped into a half circle, giving them full coverage.

Two troopers from Fourth Platoon entered the space, but when they spotted the Sia, they froze in place and raised their M-51s.

The Sia ignored them.

“Captain? We’ve got an issue here,” Rev passed on the P2P.

“Take care of it, Gunny.”

“Uh . . . I don’t think I can, sir.”

“Damn it, Gunny! I can’t break away. You’re a SNCO. Fix it.”

Rev just stared at the Sia for another moment. Had the thing been hiding inside the station, only emerging now? If it had, then there was really something bad going on. Why would it be in a Naxli military facility?

He’d never trusted the alien allies, and this just sent his alarm bells ringing.

“We’ve got a Singer here, sir.”

“What do you mean, here? I didn’t get any reports of an approaching ship.”

“I mean here, as inside the station. It just appeared in the space.”

There was a long pause, and then the captain asked, “Appeared? As in magic? Come on, Gunny.”

“As in one moment it wasn’t here, and the next moment it was.”

“Is it doing anything?”

“Just sitting there, taking up space, sir.”

There was another pause, then, “Stay there, Gunny. I’m on my way.”

As if I’m going to go anywhere else with that thing sitting there.

Rev told the others to stand fast while he kept Pashu locked onto the alien. Ally or not, if the thing took even the slightest aggressive step, he was going to blast it to Kingdom Come.

* * *

Over the next nine days, twenty-eight more Sia appeared in various spaces in the station. They’d seemingly pop up out of nowhere, though once they arrived, they might as well have been statues. They didn’t move nor make any attempt to communicate.

After a few abortive attempts to ask them what they wanted, the word came from above to set up recording devices in each space but to otherwise ignore them. That was pretty hard to do. While the Sia looked small enough while floating three hundred meters over the ground, they looked pretty big in the confined spaces of the Naxli station.

Rev couldn’t help but stare at the three in the Alpha Company space as he wondered what they were planning. He didn’t trust them in the least. He suspected that the Sia would do something to interrupt the oncoming invasion of the planet’s surface.

Three times over those nine days, Naxli fleets entered the system. The battalion went on full alert to defend the station, which Rev thought was ironic. They were protecting a Naxli weapon from its makers. Not that it would do the enemy much good. All of the equipment they could find had been destroyed, and if the station was in danger of being recaptured, the charges that had been emplaced would be detonated. Hopefully without humans still inside, but that wouldn’t be a game changer.

The combined fleets, which were growing every day, rallied to turn back the attacks while keeping pressure on the planet. One of the attacking Naxli ships made it to within .2 kiloklicks of the station, though. Debris from the ship even hit the station.

Other than that and the looming Sia presence inside the station, things were almost routine. The battalion had lost almost a third of its strength, but there was no doubt that, along with Third Battalion and what was left of Second, they would play an important role in the landing.

With the first sergeant KIA, Rev had taken over in preparing the company for whatever was coming next. Luckily, he still had three of his four platoon sergeants to help shoulder the load.

Over-Sergeant Psint, The Weapons Platoon Sergeant, was WIA. With the aid station wiped out with the Bounty, they didn’t have a functioning medical facility but Doc Korblath and the other surviving corpsmen and medics had done the best they could until a skiff arrived to transport the WIA and KIA to the hospital ship that had just arrived in-system. With Psint gone, Sergeant Simms had taken over. She was an excellent missile team leader, but she was in over her head as a platoon sergeant.

She’d asked to be relieved after Rev had chewed her butt about a faulty headcount, which he’d denied, telling her she just had to step up.

Like they all had to. The Naxli didn’t care if they were shorthanded or were still lacking in ammunition.

“What’s the status on the powerpacks?” he asked Tomiko, who Rev had assigned some of the company gunny duties.

“It’s working, but it’s slow. It’ll take two weeks at this rate to charge them all. Should we keep going?”

One of the Third Platoon troopers had managed to jury-rig a Naxli power source to charge human powerpacks. It wasn’t a perfect system, and they’d been promised a delivery of new packs, but Rev would believe that when he had them in hand.

“Keep going. Around the clock,” he added before asking, “OK, then. That’s all I have at the moment. Anything for me?”

“Do we have a timeline yet?” Yancey asked.

Rev shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. It could be tomorrow. Or it could be never. Maybe we’ll get our dear allies’ approval and just level the planet.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Tomiko said. “They’re afraid that’ll result in total war.”

That was the going theory, at least. And Rev agreed it was probably true. Even without their home planet, there would still be Naxli forces out there, and they’d be out for revenge. They scoured Farthmenger and Tau Ceti, and nothing would stop them from a campaign of doing the same to other planets.

“Anything else?”

He looked around at his leadership. Sergeant Simms started to say something but stopped.

Come on, Simms. You’re a platoon sergeant now. You’ve got to act like one.

“You have something to say, Simms?”

“No, Gunny. I was just wondering why you didn’t mention the gennies. That’s all.”

“What about the gennies?”

There had only been thirty-six surviving Genesians. Rev didn’t know how many had been thrown into the breaching, but he thought their casualty rate had been extremely high.

They’d been ensconced in their own section of the station, and that was off-limits to everyone else. Their presence had been classified as One A-SA with no attribution, but that was closing the damn door after the horses ran out. Rev knew that every trooper on the station was well aware of their presence.

She glanced at the other platoon sergeants as if looking for support. When they didn’t seem ready to jump in, she swallowed and then said, “They’re leaving.”

“What do you mean, Sergeant? Speak in whole sentences.”

Simms swallowed again and said, “I got it from one of the headquarters troopers. A Heg ship is coming to get them later today.”

Rev frowned. That didn’t make much sense. With the buildup in the system being the highest priority now, why take a Hégémonie Liberté ship out of the equation?

“What, as in positioning them for the landing?”

The sergeant gulped. “I think, like, taking them home. They’re done.”

Rev had assumed that the Genesians would take part in the main phase of the operation. There might not be many of them, but if used judiciously, their capabilities couldn’t be denied.

“Mission accomplished,” Tomiko said.

“Well, yeah. They made the breaches.”

She gave Rev an “Aw, isn’t he just the cutest” look she sometimes used on him, the one that made him feel like he was three years old.

“That’s not the mission I mean, Rev.”

“Then what mission?”

He looked around at the others, and he was glad that Yancey and Bob seemed equally as confused. At least he wasn’t the only one.

“The mission that proved they’re not our enemy anymore.”

<I told you.>

Rev ignored his battle buddy. He had said something like that before, but Rev hadn’t really given the theory much weight at the time.

“You’re saying they only fought here to prove they’re allied to humanity?”

“Not allied.”

“Then what?”

“That they’re loyal members of humanity. Isn’t that what they’ve always said? That they’re human, just like the rest of us?” She gave Pashu, who was leaning up against the wall, a pointed look. “I seem to remember you telling some assholes the same thing once upon a time.”

“That’s different,” he said but without conviction.

He had bristled at being called a genny or a Deimer because of his IBHU. And when the tide of the Corolla Wars had shifted, the Genesians and Deimer had tried to proclaim that they were as human as anyone else.

Maybe there was something to what Tomiko was saying.

“You think fighting for us would make us trust them?” Yancey asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. But it’s sure better than just sitting it out. Look, all this stuff is going on way over our heads. But there can’t be too many of them. Two hundred years ago, we overwhelmed them with our numbers. I don’t think much has changed. And if they’re fighting for their very existence, then maybe joining the other side is worth a shot.”

Rev had to digest what she’d said. Like all humans, he’d been raised with the stories of Genesians, Deimers, and Eucharans as humanity’s boogiemen. They were the unnatural enemies of humankind.

But he’d fought with the Genesians twice before, and it wasn’t too far a stretch to say he was only alive now because of their efforts.

Serving in combat together created bonds. Strong bonds. He had to accept the possibility that they weren’t that much different than he was. They were certainly closer than any of the other allies were.

Food for thought.

“Well, the gennies leaving or not, we’ve still got to get prepared. Let’s have at it.”

He sat for a moment after his platoon sergeants left, mulling over what Tomiko had said.

Finally, he stood up and donned Pashu. The Genesians’ area was off-limits, but he didn’t think anyone would stop him.

If his brothers-in-arms were leaving, it was the least he could do to go over to thank them and send them off.

24

“Oh, baby. Oh, baby, that feels good,” Rev said, his eyes closed in ecstasy.

“Uh . . . maybe we should come back later?” a familiar voice said.

Rev jerked upright with a guilty look on his face, his right arm crooked above his head. He slowly removed the long chunk of Naxli plastic from inside the back collar of his PAL.

“It itches!” he protested to Bundy.

Captain White Eagle was standing behind the major with a bemused look on his face. Neither man appeared particularly chipper, but they obviously thought the image of Rev trying to reach deep inside his PAL to scratch an itch was funny.

“And where did you get that backscratcher?” Bundy asked.

“I broke it off one of their weird tables,” Rev said.

“Maybe you can break one off for me? I haven’t been out of this damn PAL since we’ve been here,” Bundy said.

Rev silently handed it over.

“Uh, that one’s got gunny germs all over it,” Bundy said.

But he took it.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Rev asked. “I mean, you’ve been holed up officering, leaving the SNCOs to run things. And I say that with all due respect, of course.”

Bundy looked at White Eagle and said, “It looks like the good gunny is a little perturbed by our presence. Maybe we should just leave and not tell him.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.”

The captain turned as if to leave, and Rev’s interest was immediately piqued. Most of the surviving officers had been working on contingency plans, so maybe they finally had received word on what was next?

“Since you made it all this way, I wouldn’t want that to have been wasted. What’s up, sir?”

Bundy acted like he was going to continue playing with him, but then he shrugged and said, “You’re a first sergeant, Rev.”

Rev wrinkled his brows. “I’ve been acting as the first sergeant since Willie was KIA.”

Captain White Eagle shook his head and said, “He doesn’t get it, Major.”

“Let me try again in SNCO talk. You no acting first sergeant. You no gunny. You now real first sergeant. E-8.”

“What? I’m getting promoted? Now?”

Bundy switched back to normal speech. “Lots of battlefield promotions right now, and your name came up. The CO let us come to get you for the promotion itself.”

Rev was flabbergasted. He knew he was promotable this year, but he was below zone, realistically looking at next year to actually be considered. This was out of the blue, and it didn’t make sense. They were in the Naxli home system, and they were probably facing a vital mission. And they were giving out promotions?

It’s almost like . . .

“Are they throwing us a bone, sir? Handing out promotions to the damned?”

Bundy pursed his lips for a moment, then said, “Who the hell knows? The battalion got eight of these promotions, six for Marines and two for Legionnaires. All were serving in the billet and were in or below the zone. But if you want the promotion, go get Miko, Yance, and whoever else you want to be there. The CO’s ready when you are.”

“You mean like now? This very moment?”

“It won’t be much, Rev. You’ll repeat your oath of enlistment, the warrant will be read, and the chevrons put on. Unless you want to turn down the promotion, of course.”

“No, no, no, sir. I’m coming.”

Getting promoted had been the furthest thing from his mind. And while he suspected that this was just a bone being tossed to those who were going into the breach, he wanted it.

“Just get to the CP within the next thirty minutes.”

“I’m on it, sir. Let me go round up the others.”

Rev started to rush off when Captain White Eagle said, “Just because this won’t be a major production, that doesn’t let you off the hook. You’ve still got to put on your wetting down when we get back so we can all drink first sergeant booze.”

“You’ve got it, sir!” Rev said over his shoulder as he rushed to find Tomiko and the rest of his close friends.

25

First Sergeant Reverent Pelletier saw Bundy in the front of the room, but then he spotted Captain White Eagle in the second row and slipped into the seat next to him. Even with yesterday’s promotion, he’d barely seen his company commander lately, and he thought it was more appropriate that he sit with him. The Naxli chairs felt subtly wrong, but they were better than standing.

“Did you draw the ammo?”

“Not yet, sir. The mule can’t dock, so they’re ferrying it over via EVA.”

“That was supposed to be fixed by now. What happened to the bridge?”

Rev shrugged. “The offloader isn’t marrying up.”

The company commander shook his head. “If we’re moving out soon, we’re going to need those rounds.”

He looked exhausted. Rev had been pretty much on his own for the last week or so and hadn’t known exactly what the officers had been doing. Planning, for sure, but planning what? As he twisted in his seat to look around, they all looked like the walking dead.

Rev had about pulled all of his hair out in trying to get the company ready for whatever was being thrown their way, and, to be honest, he’d felt a little put-upon, but looking at all the Os, he was glad he hadn’t taken the colonel up on the offer for a commission.

“Any word? Is this our warning order?” Rev asked.

“I don’t know. I sure the hell hope so.” The captain sighed, and in an almost plaintive voice that Rev hadn’t ever heard from him, said, “I just hope one of the damn plans we’ve developed will work for the mission.”

That cleared up a little of what the officers had been doing. In typical military manner, they’d been putting together contingency plans even before they had a clue as to what their mission was going to be.

The CO was sitting in the front. He looked as tired as the rest of them. Rev didn’t know the colonel well, but he didn’t seem like the type to drive his men and women like that. The orders had to have come from either brigade or even higher.

“Who’s giving the brief?” Rev asked. “It doesn’t look like the CO, and I don’t see a screen.”

“Someone from brigade. I don’t know who. They want to do this in person. No transmissions.”

Rev hadn’t thought this was going to be a routine attaboy, but that pretty much proved it. That didn’t mean that this was their operations order, or even a warning order, but it had to be something significant.

Rev pulled out an Orange Fluff from his pocket and offered it to the captain. The invasion of Safe Harbor had rekindled his taste for the snacks.

The captain’s eyes lit up, and he snatched it out of Rev’s hand. “Where the hell did you get this?” he asked as he opened the package, stuck his nose in the opening, and inhaled.

“You know better than that, sir. A SNCO never reveals his sources. We’re sworn to secrecy.”

The captain popped the first fluff out of the bag and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth. “You keep up with the geedunk, and I don’t care where you’re getting them,” he mumbled through the snack in his mouth.

Fluffs weren’t the easiest thing in the world to swallow, and it took him a few moments to get the thing down. He looked covetously at the second fluff, then regretfully resealed the pack and slid it into his thigh pocket.

“I’ll just save this for later.”

“You do know I have more, sir, right?”

He barely hesitated. “No, no more for me. But if you don’t mind, can you spread the wealth to the lieutenants? They’ve been working hard, and they’re running on empty.”

“Can do, sir.”

A few more stragglers arrived, but it was a good twenty-five minutes before a lieutenant colonel Rev vaguely recognized entered the room with a Hégémonie Navy lieutenant-equivalent in tow.

“That’s the brigade XO,” Captain White Eagle whispered.

The colonel beckoned Lieutenant Colonel Caplan to join him, and the two left the room.

“This will only take a few minutes,” the naval officer said. “I’m Capitaine de corvette Bantou. Lieutenant Colonel Fyrk will be in here shortly.”

Rev could see there were a thousand questions, but the officer moved to the side and looked at the overhead. His body language was clear. He’d be taking none of those questions.

He could see Bundy consider forcing the issue. He outranked the Hégémonie officer, after all. But his old friend stayed quiet. They’d find out soon enough what this was all about.

There was a constant low murmur from the battalion’s leadership as they waited. It took a good fifteen minutes before the two lieutenant colonels reentered the space. Rev tried to get a hint of what the brigade officer had told his fellow O5, but the CO had a poker face that Rev couldn’t decipher.

That’s not good.

Lieutenant Colonel Caplan moved to the front and faced his officers and SNCOs. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Fyrk, the brigade XO for those of you who don’t know him. As we expected, he’s here to give us our warning order. I want to stress that none of this is set in stone. The Task Force Three has not issued their operations order yet, but they gave brigade their warning order, and the CO thought we should get a heads-up, too.”

This was a little out of the ordinary. A warning order was “a preliminary notice of an order or action which is to follow,” according to the manual. They were generally given by a commander after they received an operations order from higher command. The purpose was to give the subordinate unit leaders an idea of what their mission was going to be so they could start to prepare the troops while the CO and operations officer worked out their unit operations order.

If brigade hadn’t received their actual operations order from the task force, then giving the battalion a warning order might be jumping the gun. Not that anyone in the room was against the idea. They all wanted to know what they’d be facing, and the sooner the better.

“When we do get our official ops order, time will be short, so we’re going to want to do as much prep as possible. I’m going to want all . . .” the CO said before trailing off. “Hell. I’m just going to turn it over to Colonel Fyrk. We’ll deal with what’s next on our end after.”

“Thank you, Colonel,” the brigade XO said as he moved to center himself facing the room.

“I know I’m supposed to start with ‘Situation,’ then move on, but you know the situation, both friendly and enemy. And you know the mission. We’re going to go down and defeat the enemy on their home planet.”

There were nods among those gathered in the room. None of this was new. What they wanted to know was what the battalion’s role in the invasion was going to be.

“I want you to know that there was consideration of simply leveling the planet through a long-term bombardment.”

Rev perked up at that.

Was that even on the table?

“There’re two problems with that. We’ve confirmed that a huge percentage of their leadership and even manufacturing capabilities are underground in reinforced bunkers. Even an intense bombardment wouldn’t be able to get them all.”

Maybe not. But without the surface infrastructure, what could they do afterward?

“The second problem, and this is the major one, is that our allies have, in no uncertain terms, forbidden us from taking that course of action.”

“Screw them,” Captain Horath shouted.

Rev was pretty sure everyone had figured out that it was the allies who were keeping the task force from simply leveling the planet, but to hear the words from the XO made it real. And that probably made all of them angry. Why did they care what the allies thought about it?

The XO then told them why. “The Uauii and Breel have informed the CoH that should we proceed with destroying the planet, they would consider it an act of war. Against us, if I wasn’t clear.”

The room went into a shocked silence for a solid five seconds before they all erupted.

An act of war? That makes no friggin’ sense.

The XO let them vent before he held up a hand to quiet them down.

“We’re not privy to everything that’s going on on Titan. But the gist of it is that the CoH believes that our allies are serious. This isn’t a bluff.”

“Fucking cowards,” Rev muttered.

He was only somewhat surprised that the Uauii would take this route, and he wasn’t sure they’d actually go through with declaring war on humanity. But the Breel? That both surprised and disappointed him. He’d taken a liking to them, and this just changed his entire opinion of the race.

“The debate that’s been going on over the last few days was whether to leave the system or proceed with a ground invasion. Approximately six hours ago, the decision was made to proceed.”

So, it’s official.

They’d all assumed this was the case. But now, with the XO’s last sentence, there it was. There wouldn’t be a reprieve. This battle was going to be done with boots on the ground.

The XO let that sink in for a few moments before he said, “The debate on Titan has robbed us of a precious commodity. Time. Which is why we gave you all the contingency plans that you’ve been working on.

“The noxes aren’t just huddled in their bunkers waiting for us. From across the galaxy, it looks like nox units are gathering to come to the rescue. The Navy’s rebuffed three enemy naval interventions, and they’re forming a defensive fort around the planet. But it’s a race between the noxes and humanity to see who can get the most ships and troops here the quickest.

“Admiral Grecale’s intention is to get enough troops on the surface to stymie a Naxli counterassault. If we’re engaged with the planetary defense forces, if we’re mixed up with them, that limits what their naval forces can do, even if they can get past our naval shield. That’s why, as Colonel Caplan said, time is short. I don’t have an exact timeline yet, but you can expect to deploy in between ten and twelve hours.”

There was a collective intake of breath. For an operation of this magnitude, twelve hours was unheard of. Even with all their preparation, they’d need weeks before they were close to ready. Historically, amphibious operations on Earth and spaceborne landings since they left the confines of the Mother sometimes took up to a year in preparation.

“Our two battalions are, once again, the tip of the spear.”

The “two” stood out. Second Battalion, which was formed primarily with karnan troopers, had suffered devastating losses in trying to take their objective, which was one of the other weapons stations. The survivors had been folded into Third Human Expeditionary Battalion.

“The first wave will consist of approximately twenty million fighters.”

There were several whistles. Twenty million fighters were well over a thousand divisions. Rev would confirm it with Punch, but he wasn’t sure if there had ever been a landing of such magnitude. He didn’t even know where the shipping to handle that many fighters came from. The sheer logistics staggered him.

Twenty million soldiers had to represent a significant percentage of everyone humanity had in uniform. And this was only the first wave?

The CoH was going for broke, it seemed. They wanted a knockout punch. If they succeeded, then they’d have the upper hand in the war, and maybe the rest of the allies would fall in line. If they failed . . . ?

Rev didn’t want to think of that. Failure just wasn’t an option.

The XO continued. “In the middle of that wave will be our two battalions, each with its own mission. Intel thinks they have managed to locate two command nodes, both located in their own deep, reinforced bunkers. Your mission will be to penetrate one of those and eliminate the command cell. Hopefully, by cutting off the head of the snake, we can sow disarray and help the rest of the landing force.”

Every single trooper in the room knew that they were being handed what could be a suicide mission. The Naxli leadership wouldn’t be without their security. But there was also the realization that the battalions were the best-suited units for the mission. A smaller, powerful unit like the battalion could penetrate where a division would get bogged down.

“I don’t have to tell you how important this is. Not just to the mission but to humanity. Your success can have an outsized effect on the overall battle.

“But as I said, we don’t have time. A lot needs to be done over the next ten or twelve hours. Hopefully, the courier torp will arrive with our ops order within the hour, but until then, there’s still a lot we can do.”

He must have seen that most of them noticed the “we.”

“Yes, I’ll be with you the entire time. Just to offer any assistance, though. Colonel Caplan is in command. And with that, I’ll turn it back over—”

“What’s the PMR?” Captain Horath asked.

All eyes swiveled to take in the Delta Company commander. Most of them had probably been wondering what the Projected Mortality Rate was but hadn’t been willing to ask.

And in unison, all those eyes swiveled back to the XO.

“For the landing force? The median figure the combat AIs have calculated is about seventy percent.”

That’s fourteen million dead.

The death toll when the Naxli scoured Farthmenger had been much, much higher. But still, the number was almost incomprehensible.

“For the two battalions?” the XO continued. “If we’re successful, ninety percent.”

He didn’t have to say what it would be if they failed in the mission.

26

“Maybe we should get the chaplain on the net,” Rev told Tomiko.

“No way,” she responded with force.

Rev wasn’t expecting the vehemence in her voice.

“I meant, so we could, you know—”

“I know damn well what you meant, Reverent Pelletier. And no fucking way am I marrying you before we drop.”

His mouth fell open, and he was at a loss for words.

The company was staged in the largest open space along the same breach through which they’d entered the station as they waited for their lift. Several sailors had come aboard to help with the embark, and two of the inevitable Sia were motionless in the corner. Rev didn’t pay them any attention anymore. They were just part of the landscape.

It had been ten hours and fourteen minutes since their warning order. The time had been controlled chaos as they prepared for the mission—a mission that they had no details about other than what the brigade XO had told them eight hours ago.

Luckily, one of the many contingency plans only needed moderate tweaking to work, but the logistics involved had been developed almost from scratch.

The company wasn’t going to be heading for the Naxli homeworld in an assault craft. Nor a shuttle.

No, nothing like that.

Not only were they on a mission that they hadn’t been able to rehearse, but they were inserting by a method that had never been proven.

In just short of fifteen minutes, an unpowered sled would edge up to the breach, and troopers, without the use of the NG boosters, would make an untethered transfer into the sled. Once inside, they’d strap into what was described as a bare-bones cross between a pisser and a combat disc.

Like the gliders that dropped soldiers off the beach in the Twentieth Century’s WWII D-Day, the sleds carrying the battalion would be towed and then aimed at their entry point in the atmosphere above their target on the homeworld. Except that instead of parachuting from a reasonable altitude, the sled would disintegrate in a planned fashion above 10,000 meters, discharging its cargo.

“Cargo” being the troopers.

The pisser part would drop the troopers to 750 meters, the stealth coating hopefully keeping the Naxli scanners from picking them up, and then that would disintegrate as well, leaving the troopers to ride down the rest of the way on the discs.

This system had never been used in combat before, which didn’t give Rev a warm and fuzzy. If this was his last mission, he didn’t want it to be because he’d augered in. He wanted to go down killing Naxli.

The details of the drop were forgotten for a moment as he looked at Tomiko. His fiancée. Who just said she didn’t want to marry him.

“But why?” he asked.

“Listen, you big fool. If we get married now, just before this drop, then you’re saying that we don’t have a chance. And that’s bullshit, Rev. We’re going to make it. Both of us. And when we get back to Safe Harbor, we’re getting a proper wedding. Everyone’s going to be there, including your folks. So, you’re not taking that away from me just because you’re a little nervous now, you hear?”

“I—”

She raised a gauntleted hand and touched the outside of his face shield. “We’ll get married back in Swansea, Rev. Not here and not now.”

That wasn’t the reception he’d expected. He thought she’d appreciate it. But he should have known what she’d say. That was so Tomiko.

He put his right hand over hers. A PAL doesn’t do much in the way of intimacy, but at the moment, he felt as close to her as he had been in a long time.

He wasn’t as confident as she was, though. The chances of even one of them, much less both, surviving the coming battle were not good. There was always hope, though. The gods of war worked in strange ways.

“Retract your face shield,” she told him.

Which was against their SOP. Once buttoned up and ready to embark, they were supposed to stay that way. But what were they going to do to them?

He retracted. She retracted. They leaned together. It was hard to actually get close enough, and Rev had to twist his head, but they managed a brief kiss.

“A real wedding, Rev. Remember that,” she said before moving to join the rest of her platoon.

I would love that, Miko.

Someone bumped into him from behind.

He turned, and Randigold said, “Sorry. It’s too crowded in here. I’ll be glad to get on the damn planet.”

“Don’t worry, Eth. You’re gonna have lots of targets.”

She raised her IBHU and said, “Cruella’s thirsty for nox blood,” but without the usual excitement she showed before a battle.

Of all people, Rev wouldn’t have thought that the odds would get Randigold down. He was about to give her a word of encouragement when something registered in the corner of his eye.

“What was that?” he asked Punch.

<The Sia. They just disappeared,> his battle buddy said.

“What do you mean, they just disappeared?”

Rev hadn’t been the only one to notice. Quite a few of the troopers were pointing to where the Sia had been.

Punch pulled up the recording. It wasn’t a good view as Rev hadn’t been looking directly at them. But there, in his peripheral vision, they did just disappear. One moment, they were there, completely still, and first one, then the other, sort of poofed out of sight as if they’d been vaporized.

“How the hell did they do that? And where did they go?”

His suspicions came flooding back.

“They’re warning the noxes!” he muttered as his warrior self flared for a moment.

“The noxes already know we’re here, Gunny,” Randigold said.

“Then where’d they go, Eth?”

Before she could answer, the Navy yellowshirts announced that their sled was there and it was time to load. Rev stewed about the Sia, and he kept looking over his shoulder as he followed the rest down the passage to the surface of the asteroid.

They passed out of the reach of the artificial gravity. Without the boosters, they had to pull themselves the last few meters. The bodies in front of him blocked the vision, but within a minute, Rev reached the surface, still inside the Kikko Ring that kept the atmosphere from escaping.

The sled was about fifteen meters away. It looked more like some sort of temporary shelter, not like something that would transport them in space. Three sailors in EVAs were stationed around it, ready to retrieve any errant trooper who’d missed the open cargo door.

“Come on, you’re not sightseeing,” one of the sailors who were manning the opening said.

He grabbed Rev by his IBHU and acted like he was going to throw him across the open space, but Rev shook him off.

“Mother, guide me,” he muttered as he leaped, untethered, into space.

It shouldn’t have been a concern. He easily hit the opening, and two more sailors grabbed him and pushed him inside.

“Take any open cradle,” one of them kept announcing on the open net.

Rev started to move to the front, but he spotted Tomiko with an empty cradle beside her. She was head down to him, so he rotated himself around and took the spot.

She gave him a grateful look.

The cradle barely had enough to it to warrant the name. There was a disc at the bottom that didn’t look much different than the discs Rev had used before. It certainly didn’t look big enough to get him to the surface of the planet.

The brief said that the skin of the mini-pisser would be deployed just before the actual insertion, covering the frame, but once again, there didn’t look to be enough of it to offer any protection.

“Just get the job done,” he muttered.

The cradles were arrayed all around the surface of the sled. Someone had placed a 2-D screen in the center where everyone could see it. Images of humanity were being displayed on it. Children, cities, Mother Earth—the typical.

Probably with inspirational music, too.

And sure enough, as soon as Rev hooked into the O2, music flooded his PAL. It was a little too much. They didn’t have to be reminded what they were fighting for.

“Can you block that off?” he asked Punch.

The music stopped.

<Would you like something else instead?>

“Give me some Deth and Ruen.”

Rev knew what Punch would play. And sure enough, “My Wolf” filled his senses.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to get everyone situated. The sailors gave the troopers a salute before they jumped back to the asteroid. The rear hatch closed, and the sled shuddered as the tractor beam took hold.

“And so we go, Punch.”

He looked at Tomiko. She was watching him, and she gave him a shy smile. He reached out between his cradle’s struts, and she reached over as well, taking his hand as they crossed the system to their fate.

* * *

With all the rush to deploy, the transit had been four hours of boredom, but a stress-filled boredom. Lost in his thoughts, Rev couldn’t help but look around the sled, wondering which of them would be dead eight hours from now.

These were his troopers, his friends. Being a Marine, soldier, Legionnaire, carabinieri, whatever was a dangerous profession, and he’d lost people before. This time, though, it seemed more foreboding, more certain.

He didn’t resent the mission, only the cost. As the first sergeant, he’d try to keep as many of his troopers alive as he could, but there was only so much in his power, and the mission was paramount, no matter the cost.

Punch had run a new action flick. After only five minutes, though, Rev had him stop it. He couldn’t follow the dialogue. Punch had then tried to tell him some jokes, but either his battle buddy had lost his touch, or Rev wasn’t in the mood.

It wasn’t until Punch mentioned that Rev could hook up to Tomiko’s auxiliary jack that he perked up. It had taken a bit of maneuvering, mostly by Tomiko, before they were connected. It had been great to be able to talk to someone—transmissions were not allowed for the duration of the transit; however, a direct hook-up was OK. But the stress was heavy, and after about thirty minutes, their talk had mostly petered out.

Rev took to staring at the screen in the center of the sled. They’d run through the patriotic vid many times by now, and with Punch cutting off the music, it just became a parade of faces and life as a human. After each showing, the screen switched to a space scene. The Naxli homeworld had started off as a small disc, maybe a finger width’s wide. Now it was getting larger on the screen as they got closer. At the moment, it was rather pretty, a bright, welcoming sight, belying what was waiting for them once they arrived.

They couldn’t see them, but ships were bombarding the planet—not the all-out destruction of the surface many troopers wanted, but taking out military and infrastructure targets. They’d also be hopefully focusing the Naxli’s attention away from the approaching landing force.

It wouldn’t be all one-sided. Some of those human ships, manned and unmanned, would be destroyed as well.

“We’re going pretty fast,” Tomiko said the last time the screen showed the planet. “Can this thing decelerate enough without squashing us? I don’t see compensators.”

<Those nozzles between the cradles are for retrothrust.>

Rev looked between their two seats. A narrow nozzle protruded from the sled’s deck. Once that was deployed, they could withstand more Gs than just in their PALs. They wouldn’t be able to see anything. It was almost like they would be in a sensory deprivation chamber, but they’d be alive.

“They’ve got retrothrust,” he told Tomiko.

“Like that’s going to be enough?”

“I’m sure the math was worked out, Miko.”

“And you trust them? This system hasn’t had a proof of concept yet. We’re the guinea pigs.”

Rev didn’t reply. Tomiko was just being Tomiko. This was her way of dealing with the situation. When they hit the ground, he knew he could count on her.

* * *

Despite the situation, Rev was asleep when Tomiko’s “What the hell is that?” woke him.

He glanced over at her, but her attention was fixed on the screen. Rev shifted his attention, but something was off. The planet filled the display. They were close enough to see flickerings of fires that dotted the surface. A few small points were visible in space: probably Navy monitors.

“How long was I out?” he asked Punch.

<Eight minutes.>

“That’s not enough time for us to have closed the distance.”

<And the view is incorrect for our approach.>

Which meant they were receiving a feed of some sort.

“What’re those dots?”

There were a lot of faint dots that seemed to be situated in space around the planet. They looked to be equidistant from each other and formed an array of sorts. A shell around the planet.

“Is that a defensive shield?”

<I don’t have any data that might indicate what it is. But the geometry suggests that it may be a defensive array of a type with which we’re not familiar.>

Which led to the big question.

“Can we get through it?”

<I do not know.>

“Punch doesn’t know what those dots are. Does Pikachu have any ideas?” he asked Tomiko.

“No. I just want to know how we closed the distance so quickly.”

“I don’t think we did, Miko. I think we’re getting a feed from closer in.”

“But how? Who the hell’s doing it, and how are they getting it to us here? I thought we were stealthy.”

Rev gulped. He’d been wondering what the dots were, but Tomiko was right. If they were supposed to be invisible to the Naxli, then who knew to somehow take over the screen on the sled and hijack it?

“I don’t know how we’re getting this. Or what’s going on.”

The view on the screen started shifting as if the camera was moving closer, but at an almost impossible speed for anything to accelerate. The dots began to acquire a soft, bluish glow. The planet grew quickly until the entire thing was no longer visible on the screen. What was visible were lights showing through scattered weather patterns. Rev could see fires and even some smoke plumes.

The dots brighter, getting larger, until . . .

“Are they singers?” Rev asked incredulously.

Punch refined what he could, and Rev became sure of it. The shape, even without all the tentacles, was unmistakable.

“The sons of bitches,” Rev snarled. “They’re defending the planet. They’re on the noxes’ side.”

The view kept zooming in until there was no doubt. The dots were Sia, maybe a couple of thousand of them, all arrayed equidistant from each other in a geometric sphere around the Naxli homeworld.

Every eye in the sled was locked onto the screen. No one knew exactly what all they could see meant, but they all knew that whatever the Sia were doing would have a tremendous effect on them.

Suddenly, the view started zooming back out. The entire planet was visible again, and it kept going. Within ten seconds, it had retreated and shifted until Rev thought they were looking at their own real-time view. The planet was about five fingers wide. At first, Rev couldn’t see the Sia, but they slowly began to glow brighter, little lights in the black. The halo around each one expanded until it merged with that of the Sia nearest. Within a minute, a glowing shell was formed, completely protecting the planet inside.

“Come on, Navy. What are you waiting for? Blast the suckers,” Rev muttered.

The shell started shining with increased intensity, and Rev was suddenly acutely aware that Alpha Company, packed in an unpowered sled with no way to alter its course, was headed directly for whatever the Sia had in mind.

And then something—he didn’t know what—seemed to sweep through the sled. Rev could feel it as if his bones themselves were vibrating.

“Rev!” Tomiko cried out as she reached through the sides of her cradle to take his hand.

“Hold on, Miko!”

The vibrating shifted from fingers scratching on a chalkboard annoying to downright painful.

“Status check,” Rev asked.

Punch didn’t respond.

“Punch!”

The vibration was getting more intense, and Rev could picture his very molecules coming apart. The Sia weapon—for that’s what it had to be—was going to kill them before they could engage the Naxli. The Sia were the real enemy.

Tomiko’s hand went limp and slipped from his grasp. He felt like he was going to pass out. He glared at the Sia in their formation, their glow so bright now that he barely made out when it looked like the Naxli homeworld shuddered, if he could call it that.

I’m hallucinating.

But it shuddered again, and lights across the face of the planet’s dark side went out. For a moment. Long lines appeared, each with the glow of . . . Rev wasn’t sure what. Then lines grew like ice on a lake cracking under a squad of Marines in PALs walking across it.

Rev was failing, dying, probably, but he was still captivated by what his mind was conjuring.

I hope you’re seeing this, Punch.

The intensity of the shield suddenly flared, and Rev could swear that the planet looked like it had collapsed upon itself. Only for a few moments, though. There was a blinding flash, and like an old atomic bomb detonating when a critical mass was achieved, the planet seemed to explode.

Yes, explode.

This wasn’t a scouring. This was the complete destruction of the planet.

Rev was in shock as his mind tried to fight the vibrations that were wracking his body. But only for seconds longer. As if turned off with a switch, the vibrations ceased. His molars ached, but whatever torture he’d been going through was gone.

<Rev!>

“Punch! I thought you were gone!”

<I was here. I just couldn’t respond.>

Rev thought there was a note of panic in Punch’s voice, but that couldn’t be, right?

He leaned forward to look at Tomiko. Her head lolled inside her helmet, but her Bio LED shined a steady green. She was out cold but alive.

The screen had jangled when the planet exploded before it evened out again. A glowing gas cloud was expanding rapidly throughout space. As it passed the Sia shell, it seemingly swept them up. Swaths of the dots had been wiped out in the maelstrom. What had been thousands of them forming the sphere looked to be down to possibly hundreds, but maybe not even that.

The cloud kept advancing. There were several flashes. Lightning? Then Rev had a horrible thought.

Ships?

And that led to one more thought.

“Is that just gas, Punch?”

<Some of the planetary matter may have been converted to gaseous form, but there will be solid matter there as well.>

“Coming right for us, and we can’t turn.”

<I’m afraid that’s so.>

“I don’t know how far away we are right now, but how, uh, dense will the debris be when we reach it, or it reaches us?”

<I don’t have the data to input.>

“Damn it, Punch. I want to know if we’re gonna survive! Give me your best guess.”

<The variables are too great. We’ll almost certainly be hit, and this sled can only withstand dust, nothing larger. The question is if we’ll be hit with larger pieces of the planet, and there should be fewer of those.>

“Punch!”

“Twenty percent chance of escaping something large enough to penetrate the sled.”

Beside him, Tomiko came to with a jerk and a cry.

“Miko, you’re OK!” Rev said, trying to soothe her.

“What the fuck just happened? I feel like a Davis just ran me over.”

“The singers weren’t protecting the planet. They were destroying it,” Rev told her.

“The hell you say,” she said, still sounding groggy.

She turned to the screen. “What’s that glowing thing on the visuals there?”

“Uh, that’s a problem, Miko. We’re just gonna have to wait and see if we make it through this in one piece.

* * *

“You hanging in there?” Rev asked Tech First Multar over the P2P.

“Do you think we’re going to get hit hard?”

“Don’t know. I wish I did. We’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”

Comms silence was over. From the looks of it, there weren’t many Naxli in the system that could do anything about it.

Most of the troopers were still in their cradles. But with Captain White Eagle trying to raise someone, anyone, Rev took it upon himself to leave his cradle and make the rounds.

It sure beat just sitting there and waiting for the leading edge of the dead planet to reach them.

Punch figured it would be between another ten to twenty minutes before that happened. Rev didn’t know what his battle buddy used for the calculations, but he was willing to accept that timeline.

Like you have a say, Reverent, whether you accept it or not.

“This is the big space, little bullet theory, Multar. There’s a lot of nothingness around us.”

“All due respect, First Sergeant, but there’s an awful lot of bullets there,” the Tech First said as he pointed at the screen.

The glow of the gas cloud had dissipated as it expanded, but Rev wasn’t fooled into thinking the danger was over. And it wasn’t the gas itself that worried him. It was the chunks of the Naxli homeworld that could spell their end.

<If I can interrupt, it might be a good idea if you return to your cradle.>

“From what you told me, we still have ten minutes.”

<I could be wrong.>

Rev sniffed. Of course, his battle buddy was right. Again. There was no use pushing the envelope.

“Just keep your head up, Moltar.”

The Alliance soldier gave a wry laugh and said, “I thought you told us all to get into crash position.”

Rev had to laugh. “You got me there.”

There was no SOP for what to do if a planet exploded near you. But it made sense that everyone put their backs in the direction of what had been the Naxli homeworld and would bend over, putting more PAL and body between any debris and their heads.

Rev twisted around, aimed at his cradle, and kicked off. He was a little off target, hitting slightly more into Tomiko’s than his, and his IBHU wasn’t much help in getting into position. But with Tomiko’s assistance, he managed to slip into place.

“Are you done building up everyone’s morale,” she asked over the P2P, and Rev didn’t know if she was serious or leveling a dig at him.

He chose to believe the former.

“Everyone’s surprisingly, well, not upbeat, exactly. Hopeful, maybe?”

“We’re not landing on that hellhole, for one,” she said.

“But that hellhole is coming to us.”

“You’re such an optimist, Rev.”

The first piece of debris slammed through the sled. Without air, there was no sound, but suddenly, there was light from the system’s sun streaming in through a hole, and Corporal DeMoray was clutching her thigh on the other side of the sled. Bright red blood balls started to flow from her thigh to float in the sled’s cargo bay.

“Assume crash positions!” Captain White Eagle shouted over the company net.

Doc Vitron, one of the Third Platoon corpsmen, ignored the order, left his cradle, and pulled himself to DeMoray.

Rev started to join him, but Tomiko reached across and grabbed his arm. “You can’t do anything for her. Let the doc handle it.”

He shook his head, but he bent over, bringing his right hand up across his helmet. Pashu wasn’t as flexible, so he extended her in front of Tomiko. His IBHU wouldn’t provide much protection, but it was better than nothing.

More pieces of debris hit. Inside his PAL, it sounded like he was getting sandblasted. Several larger bits of the Naxli planet hit him, but his PAL’s alarms remained quiet.

Rev huddled in silence as the sled was pummeled, expecting it to be smashed into bits by something big. Normally, he’d be chafing at his helplessness, but in this case, he was surprisingly calm. What they’d just witnessed was so big, so huge, that whatever happened to the company was of almost insignificant consequence.

He didn’t know how long they were being pummeled. But he slowly became aware that they weren’t being hit anymore. He raised his head. The screen that had been in the center of the ship was tattered. There were several baseball or flipball-sized holes in the sled through which light poured inside. One of the support struts had been sheared off, and the end now protruded into the cargo compartment.

Troopers started to stir out of their positions.

Rev checked Tomiko, who gave him a nod, and he left his cradle when he saw Corporal Ginnie Smith, one of Tomiko’s troopers. Or what was left of her. Something had hit her in the back, penetrating far enough to emerge out of the top of her head. Rev immediately followed the trajectory. On the other side of the sled, Per Tiwari’s cradle was smashed, and a hole had been punched through the sled’s skin. But Tiwari was pulling himself free of the ruined cradle. He looked like he hadn’t been touched.

“Is that it?” he asked Punch. “Did we make it?”

<It would seem so. But we’re still hurtling through space, and now without a planet to capture us. Unless we’re rescued, we’ll be drifting for a long time.>

Rev didn’t care about that for the moment. He had expected only five percent of Alpha Company to survive the Naxli homeworld. Except for Smith and what looked to be half a dozen wounded, though, it seemed like the company had managed to survive the utter destruction of the planet.

27

Hvarser slowly turned the knob, and Rev held his breath. Tiwari was holding onto the hose at the repair, face shield almost touching it while his feet floated free in the sled.

After too long, the Dalit twisted around, a huge smile on his face as he flashed Rev a thumbs-up.

Thank the Mother.

Rev turned toward Captain White Eagle across the compartment and repeated the gesture. They’d just doubled their available O2 levels. When the sled had been blasted, they’d lost two of the three O2 tanks and just under half of the individual lines leading from the main manifolds to the PALs. One tank had been broken apart, and the pressure of the escaping gas had created a rocket, with the tank smashing through the sled’s skin and being lost to the grasp of space.

The other had the main line cut in two. The tank had automatically shut off, so very little O2 was lost.

Without the supplemental O2, the PALs had approximately four hours’ worth of air. Once the debris field had passed them, the first order of business had been to replace the individual lines, which was an easy task. Coils of tubing were in a locker, and while there was some damage to them, enough whole sections were salvaged to hook up each trooper.

There were no spare main lines. They couldn’t just replace them. With just one tank and a full company of troopers, the extra O2 only extended their time to fifteen hours. After that, they’d be breathing vacuum.

Enter Tiwari while the SNCOs and officers tried to come up with a course of action. He thought he could repair the existing line. And unbelievably, he had. Using medical kits, he’d made an industrial bandage around the break, covering it first with insta-splint, then after that hardened, slathering it with regular antiseptic soap.

Rev hadn’t been sure why the soap. It wouldn’t help with the repair. But when Tiwari had stuck his face shield right up against the patch, he realized why. The soap would bubble if O2 was escaping.

“Good job, Per,” Rev told the PFC. “You might have saved our asses here.”

“I don’t know about that. I’ve just given us a little more time. But I recommend we keep the flow at half pressure. I think we can do that and trickle the air to mix with the other tank.”

“You got that?” he asked Hvarser on his team net. “Don’t go above half pressure.”

“I’m on it.”

Rev was relieved, but Tiwari’s point was valid. They’d gained another ten hours. Meanwhile, though, they were still hurtling through space and unable to contact anyone. If they weren’t rescued, then the sled would become their coffin.

Something both amazing and terrible had happened in the system. Certainly, the destruction of the planet hadn’t caught up with the rest of the task force, but it was logical that the command had a lot on their plates at the moment. Certainly, though, search and rescue had to be a priority. Rev didn’t give those ships closest to the planet much of a chance of having survived the Sia’s . . . assault wasn’t the right word. Maybe annihilation? But ships were far better protected than their sled. Some of the ships had to have survived, to say nothing of the main assault naval force, which had been somewhere out beyond the system’s seventh planet.

Rev kicked off and shot across the sled to where Captain White Eagle was huddled with the two surviving lieutenants and Tomiko.

“What’s the status on the patch?” the skipper asked.

“It’s holding. Tiwari doesn’t want to go to full pressure, but we can feed both tanks into the manifolds simultaneously, and that should work.

“Make sure he stays on that patch. We need that oxygen.”

“Roger that, sir. Any comms yet?”

The captain would have told him, but still, he asked.

“Nothing. There’s some background noise but no real comms. Lieutenant Grayson thinks that whatever the singers did might have screwed up the comms in the system.”

Rev thought that was possible, but then why did they have comms with each other inside the sled?

“Hopefully, it’ll be reestablished soon. With both tanks working now, we’ve got about twenty-six hours of air left. Unless we pull another rabbit out of our hats, that’s it.

* * *

<Slow yourself. Feel your heartbeat. Let that be your guide.>

Rev could hear the steady beat of his heart. Of course, that was just Punch feeding the sound into his auditory cortex, but it was somewhat soothing. The question was whether it was really slowing down his metabolism. Punch said that meditation could have that effect. Rev wasn’t so sure. And really, if it gave him another five minutes of time before he asphyxiated, did that really matter?

Come on. You’ve got to give it a chance, Reverent.

He took three deep breaths—which he realized might be having the opposite effect of what he was trying to do. But then he tried to sink down into the nothingness of self-reflection.

That was until somebody gave him a shot to the arm. He opened his eyes to see Tomiko floating at head level. She was motioning for him to turn on his comms.

“What?”

“We’ve been trying to raise you. Why was your comms off?”

“Punch had me trying mediation. You know, to slow my metabolism and breathing.”

“What are you talking about? Medi-fucking-tation? Really?”

Rev felt a little embarrassed, but not much. And who cares if he was trying it?

“So what’s so important that you have to tell me?”

“Comms, Rev. We’ve got comms. The skipper’s on with them . . . Rev?”

But Rev was gone, kicking off and shooting across the sled to the captain. He was in full adrenaline rush as he twisted around so his legs could absorb the impact. He could see the company commander through his face shield speaking to someone, but nothing was coming over his PALs comms.

“What’s going on?” he asked Lieutenant Kongi.

“I don’t know. Only that he’s on with someone.” Rev could hear the hope in her voice.

Tomiko joined them. She gave Rev a dirty look, but that barely registered with him. He was far more interested in the company commander and what he was saying. He tried to read the man’s lips, but he couldn’t make out much.

Several of the other troopers noticed the little meeting, and a few drifted closer. It seemed like forever, but finally, Rev caught the word “out.”

Captain White Eagle bit his lip. He looked pensive, which was not what Rev wanted to see. He wanted relief and joy.

The command net switched on. “That was the PUNS Skate. I’ve explained our situation and timeline, and they’re going to try and make it to us.”

“Try?” Lieutenant Grayson blurted.

“The situation isn’t good. Whatever the singers did had major effects on our forces. The Skate took a major blast from whatever was done, and she was DIS for over an hour before they could restart their engines.”

DIS, or Dead in Space, was a major, major problem. Ships and crews had been lost that way. It was a deep-seated fear of every space-going sailor.

“They now have power, but they’re running at ten percent. The captain has agreed to try and retrieve us, but at their present position and with our course and speed, it’s going to be close.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it. They may not make it in time, and even if they do, they’re a skiff. They can’t tow us, and they don’t have a hangar to take us in. But we’ll work something out.”

“Hell, skipper,” Lieutenant Kongi said. “If we all run out of air and croak, we’re prime zombie material. That’s better than nothing.”

Rev gave Tomiko a quick glance. He could see her blanch at the lieutenant’s words. She died once, on Tahiti. She almost never mentioned being resurrected, but Rev knew the experience had shaken her to her core.

“Well, let’s hope it never comes to that. I’m going to tell the company what’s happening. Then I want everyone in their cradles. No movement. Conserve our oxygen. After that, I want some brainstorming to figure out what we’re going to do once they reach us.”

* * *

<Sixteen minutes.>

Come on, come on. Get in here.

Still just barely more than a speck, the Skate was matching their course and velocity as it crept closer. The ship had continued to work on repairs, and she’d made better time than expected. But would it be enough? Already, several of the karnans had passed out from hypoxia. The captain had ordered a decrease in the O2 flow to the minimum necessary to sustain life, but individuals all reacted differently. And karnans had much higher metabolic rates than the rest. Rev himself was feeling lightheaded.

He wasn’t sure if his meditation exercise had helped any. But even as stressed out as he was, Punch told him he was using less O2.

Rev, Tiwari, and Hvarser “stood” on the ramp. They were weightless, of course, but by locking an arm into the sled’s hydraulic pistons, they were able to keep their feet planted on the surface of the ramp. The skipper had initially balked when Rev said his team would take ramp duty. As an IBHU himself, he knew that his weapon was not the most practical when acting as an arm. But Pashu was actually a benefit. With it locked onto one of the hydraulic cylinders that operated the ramp, he was securely in place. Nothing was going to knock him free.

He had a sudden image of when it was his turn to make the crossing and Pashu refusing to release her hold.

Don’t even think it, Reverent, he told himself as he tried to banish the thought.

The Skate grew larger as she approached, but not quickly enough. They were running out of time.

He twisted to look back inside the sled.

“. . . one after the other,” the captain was saying.

Rev had been tuning him out as he watched the ship approach. He probably should be paying attention, though.

“We need to be quick. But you’ve got to be sure of your aim. You’ve got one shot at this, and if you miss, well, it’s a long way to nothing, and the Skate won’t have time to chase you down.”

Rev gulped. That thought had been brewing at the back of his mind, but to hear the captain say it made it real.

As a skiff, the Skate didn’t have a shuttle that could chase down errant jumpers. The ship would have to attempt that, and once disconnected from what little air was still flowing from the sled, each trooper would only have what was left inside their PALs. No one had anything left in their personal O2 tanks.

“We all know the order of crossing. Let’s get ready. I want quick, decisive action, but controlled action. This is your five-minute warning. Get yourself ready, and may the Mother guide you.”

Five minutes?

Rev returned to the ship. It was closer, but it seemed like it was approaching too slowly for this to start in five minutes.

How far are we jumping?

The jump to the breaching points during the assault on the Naxli station had been about fifteen meters, but they’d had the NG thrusters. This time, they were doing a naked jump, and one without a safety team to guide errant troopers who’d been off the mark. Rev wanted the Skate in real, real close.

A light flashed from the side of the approaching ship. Rev adjusted his filters, bringing the open cargo bay into focus. Three of the Skate’s crew were standing just inside the hatch, protected from the vacuum of the black by just a simple atmospheric curtain. One was waving a red hand torch at the sled.

They were ready for them.

A skiff doesn’t have a hangar, but like all ships, they had a dock where shuttles could offload personnel and take in supplies. Were Alpha Company in a shuttle or assault craft, this would be easy. Marry up to the hatch, then simply board the skiff. But the sled didn’t have that capability. So, the troopers were going to jump across, hopefully hit the hatch, and pass through the curtain safely into the ship.

The cargo station was big enough to handle standard containers, but it couldn’t handle a full company at once. And the ship was too small for all of them, particularly in PALs. The plan, such as it was, was for a continual stream of troopers making the crossing, doing emergency molts out of their PALs, to move deeper into the ship proper while the combat suits were shoved back into space to make more room for the rest of them.

There were a lot of moving parts to the plan. Too many parts, as far as Rev was concerned. Too many chances for things to go haywire. But with air running out, what choice did they have?

The ship closed the distance to the sled, and for a moment, Rev thought it was going to hit them. Then it stopped, relative to them, about twelve meters off of the sled’s ramp. It was dangerously close as far as spacecraft hurtling through the black, yet so very far away when untethered troops had to jump for it.

Captain White Eagle was on the company net, telling everyone to remain calm and that this was no big deal. Rev tuned him out. His eyes were locked on the Skate’s crew. He could see when the artificial gravity was cut, and the second the one with the torch switched it to green, Rev overrode the skipper.

“Go, go, go!” he shouted over the net.

Third Platoon was ready. With quick motions, the first ones disconnected not only their air lines, but the three karnans’ as well. They immediately pulled themselves forward.

“Remember, keep to the right,” he told them.

And just like that, the first two, with an unconscious karnan between them, launched themselves across. If anyone was going to have problems, it would be these three teams. But all three easily made it across as if they’d rehearsed it for months.

Individuals started the train, disconnecting, pulling themselves forward, and positioning themselves on the ramp. Hvarser and Tiwari held onto each trooper, securing them in place until the sailor on the ship gave Rev the signal, and Rev told them to launch.

By the time the fourth individual jumped, a cargo arm had emerged from the open hatch, a PAL grasped in its claw. The arm was on the left side, and it threw the combat suit to the left, out of the way of the incoming troopers.

Maybe this is going to work.

Rev should have known better. The gods of war had long messed with him, and they must have heard his thoughts.

E-Spec 4 Liks-Jiles was given the go-ahead to jump just as the cargo arm emerged with another PAL. Maybe the Alliance soldier wasn’t expecting it, and she seemed to shift her aim farther to the right at the last moment.

She hit the ship almost a meter to the right of the cargo hatch. Compounding the problem, she was flailing as she tried to make the open hatch. But while a person can adjust their orientation, a trajectory in space is still a trajectory. She kicked wildly as she hit the ship, which sent her tumbling and off to the side.

Rev shouted, “Stop. No more!”

He instinctively tensed as he was about to leap after her.

<Rev! You can’t do anything for her. We’ll all three be lost.>

“But—”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off. A sailor from the Skate launched himself out of the cargo bay. The captain had been told that the ship didn’t have a working EVA suit, and for a moment, Rev was confused until he saw a line snaking after the leaping sailor.

He collided with the still-flailing trooper, but he somehow managed to hold onto her leg as the line reached its limit and snapped them to a stop.

“Greta! Freeze! They’ve got you,” he passed on the open net.

“What’s going on?” the captain asked. “What’s happening?”

Rev ignored him. “Greta, calm down! You’re safe!”

From inside the cargo bay, two sailors started hauling on the line, bringing in the two. Rev didn’t relax until they crossed the threshold and were inside the ship.

Rev’s heart was pounding, and he’d probably just used more of his remaining O2 than he should have.

“Per, send the next one. Go,” he told Tiwari.

“First Sergeant, what the hell just happened?” the company commander asked over the P2P.

“Liks-Jiles panicked when the cargo arm ejected someone’s PAL. I think she might have thought someone was still inside it. She missed the jump, but a sailor retrieved her.”

“But they don’t have an EVA.”

“He was tethered on a simple line, and the others hauled them back. She’s safe.”

Probably with soiled long johns, but safe.

“Roger that.”

Rev heard him reminding the rest of the troopers about the PALs coming back out, but he tuned him out again. His task was to make sure the train of troopers kept moving.

His timer, set on the amount of air left in the sled, went to zero, but the air was still flowing.

“Punch? The air?”

<With people disconnecting, the reserves are going further.>

“So, how much time do we have?”

<Too many variables. We don’t know how quickly troopers are disconnecting.>

“Punch! Quit with the too many variables! How much damn time?”

<Not much.>

Two more troopers—a karnan and Randigold—passed out and had to be carried across. Rev cared for all his troopers, but he gave a sigh of relief as Randigold made it through the curtain.

There was one more incident as the NCOs started going over. Heisō Kata jumped, aiming toward the middle of the door. He arrived at the same instant that the cargo arm swung around. A second or two earlier or a second or two later would have made all the difference. But the timing couldn’t have been worse. The arm hit Kata as it flung a PAL out into the nothingness . . . and tossed the Mezame Marine as well.

It happened almost too quickly to comprehend. One moment, Kata was about to reach safety, and the next, he was gone. Rev just stared in shock for a moment.

“To the right. Stay to the right!” he shouted over the net.

He reported to the captain that Kata was lost, and he could hear the skipper ranting over the same thing.

Kata was going to die. He’d asphyxiate, which was a horrible way to go. Lieutenant Kongo had been right with her smartass remark about being resurrected, though. Dying of asphyxiation was actually one of the better ways to go with regard to increasing the chances of a successful resurrection. Hopefully, the ship was tracking the trooper, and he’d be the only one. And again hopefully, the situation allowed for the ship to try and retrieve him.

Then it was time for the SNCOs, and Rev began to be a little more optimistic. Kelly went, then Yancey, when the blessed inflow of air ceased.

“Move it,” he passed. Go, now!”

Tiwari had a hand out, reaching for Staff Sergeant Orinda from Third Platoon.

“That means you, Per. You and Hvarser.”

“With all due respect, First Sergeant, we already talked this over. We’re staying.”

“You’ve got three minutes of air.”

“Which means we can get ten or fifteen more across if you don’t sit there and argue with us.”

With the air gone, the rest of the SNCOs and officers had disconnected and were crowding forward in a mass. Rev was tempted to try and force some sort of order to them, but for what? They were all on borrowed time now.

Rev tried to slow his breathing as he directed troopers to the ramp. If they had gravity, it would be easier. Run and launch, like parachutists on a planet. But with weightlessness, it was more difficult to get in position and still have something to push off against.

Tiwari and Hvarser were taking charge, grabbing the senior troopers and almost shoving them. Several people collided as they jumped across, but they kept on target. No more PALs were being spat out. Maybe the sailors saw what was happening and adjusted, putting a temporary halt to that.

That was in the back of his mind, though. He was watching for one specific gunnery sergeant. The strict rank order of crossing was gone as people crowded the ramp, but then there she was, behind the rest. She angled around to approach Rev, but he grabbed and redirected her to Tiwari.

“Just go, Miko.”

For once, she didn’t argue. Rev saw the Dalit grab her, twist her around, and send her across.

Breathing was getting more difficult, and gray spots were forming in his vision.

“That’s it. Go, First Sergeant.” He heard the skipper as if from a thousand klicks away.

He turned to his team and pointed to the Skate, too tired to try and speak.

They jumped, and it was only the captain and him left.

Rev was at peace with himself. He’d gotten the company off the coffin. But now, he just wanted to sleep. The idea was extremely alluring.

He turned to tell the captain goodbye.

“Jump, First Sergeant. That’s an order.”

Something clicked. A Marine always obeyed his orders.

With a Herculean effort and as tunnel vision closed in, he forced Pashu to release the cylinder and blindly jumped before sinking into the cottony embrace of the dark.

28

Alpha Company spent eight long days on the PUNS Skate before they were able to transfer to a normal troop carrier. While still aboard, the troopers slept in the corridors, in engineering, in the small mess deck. The sonic showers were overwhelmed—wet showers weren’t even an option. The food fabricators were working overtime, and they ran out of several organic bases, meaning that what food could be created was limited.

From time immemorial, soldiers have bitched about their living situation. Not one trooper had anything negative to say about the “Skating Skate.” They were grateful just to be alive.

And they were particularly grateful for the efforts of the ship’s crew to retrieve Kata. It hadn’t been as easy as Rev would have thought it would be, but they weren’t going to leave one of their own out there. The Mezame Marine had been put into stasis, and once he could be transferred to a Class A facility, the ship’s independent duty corpsman assured them that Kata would have an excellent chance at resurrection.

Rev was none the worse for wear from his close call. He’d come to, his helmet already taken off, and Tomiko hovering over him. She hadn’t even molted from her PAL yet.

“Always trying to be the hero,” she said, somehow sounding both relieved and angry at the same time.

The cargo bay was a madhouse. With the artificial gravity back on, the PALs were jumbled all over the deck, and the last to come over were in the process of molting. The two cargo arms were quiet. Most of the company had already left the bay, but some of the sergeants had organized working teams to help the SNCOs and officers.

A senior chief was calmly telling troopers to get out of their PALs and clear the cargo bay. Rev knew this was his kingdom, and he wanted the PALs out of there so he could close the doors. Curtains were pretty reliable, but they had been known to fail before, especially with damaged ships. They’d all feel much better with solid doors keeping the black out and a breathable atmosphere inside.

Both Alpha Company and the Skate had come through the destruction of the Naxli homeworld relatively unscathed. That couldn’t be said about the rest of the task force.

While the command was burning up the quantum comms with Titan on the one hand, and on the other hand, gaining some semblance of control over what was left of their forces, they still did their best to keep the remaining units up to date on the situation. And both the ship’s CO and Captain White Eagle thought it appropriate that the word go down to the lowest levels as well.

Except for the screwed-up comms that lasted several days, the task force’s follow-on units were relatively unscathed. All of the damage was to the initial wave. Of the naval forces that had been prepping the planet’s surface, only two ships had managed to emerge intact, even if heavily damaged. The picket ships, like the Skate, fared better, but still, several were lost, caught up in the blast, while all suffered some degree of damage.

For the ground forces, losses had been devastating. There had been sixty-three sleds carrying the first wave to the planet. Twenty-one survived the initial blast, and only one had escaped damage. Of the twenty-one, two had suffered the fate that almost befell Alpha Company with a loss of all hands. One had been recovered and the passengers put into stasis, but their eventual resurrection was doubtful.

Charlie Company simply disappeared, as had Kilo and India from Third Human Expeditionary Battalion. Losses among the rest of the initial ground assault waves were similar.

The Sia had taken matters into their own hands (figuratively, of course). While they had intervened to destroy the Naxli homeworld, they hadn’t seemed to mind that they were also destroying human ships with tens of thousands of lives. That was a lot of collateral damage. What that meant with regard to how they viewed humanity was something that had to be determined.

Sia had been killed, too. The ones that survived the destruction they’d released quickly left the system. As far as the information the Skate received, they didn’t communicate with humanity after they did what they did. They simply left. How and to where were questions unanswered.

But the ramifications of what they’d done were reverberating throughout humanity.

29

“Is that a welcoming party or a protest?” Kelly asked as they stared at the 2D screen at the front of the shuttle.

Rev couldn’t tell. The newscast, covering the first return to Safe Harbor of ground forces who’d taken part in the fight, showed a reporter down at the Anastasia spaceport listing some of the Marine units, as well as the First Human Expeditionary Battalion. Behind her, through the windows and outside the terminal, they could see crowds of people. They seemed to be chanting, and many were waving signs. Rev could see what most of the signs said.

“We’re the returning conquering heroes,” Yancey said. “Look, there’s a sign that says ‘Welcome Home, Daddy!’”

OK, that’s a good one. But they look a little agitated.

They were all glad to be back, but they knew that things weren’t particularly calm at home. With the Sia revealing more than anyone had expected, humanity had been shaken, and that gave birth to more turmoil. Protests of various kinds were a common occurrence throughout human space. Maybe in allied space as well.

The Uauii seemed to be blaming the humans for upsetting the balance of the galaxy—something Rev and the rest thought ridiculous. “Balance” meant the Naxli ravaging them all at will?

The Breel seemed to be using the events to maneuver to a more pivotal position within the allied coalition. As far as the rest? Rev sure couldn’t tell from just watching the newscasts, particularly as he knew they were being censored by Titan.

But all that aside, they were finally coming home. It was a long four months after the battle in the Naxli home system. The First Human Expeditionary Battalion had remained aboard the PUNS Allegiance for three of those months at the outer reaches of the system while humanity and the other allies tried to come to grips with the situation and determine their next course of action.

The war with the Naxli didn’t end with the destruction of their homeworld. There were lots of Naxli spread around the galaxy, after all. But the Sia had seemingly anticipated that. Simultaneously with the main attack, they did their planet-destruction thing on forty-one other Naxli-held worlds—with millions, if not billions, of non-Naxli lives lost as well.

The fourth month had been back in human space on Hannon, a remote Perseus Union planet noted for its large naval base and as the home to the Fourth Marine Force. They were issued new gear—except that the IBHU Marines didn’t get their PAL HXs, as no one bothered to have any from Safe Harbor shipped out (which Rev took as an indication that they weren’t high on the priority list of being redeployed anytime soon).

And with all the high-end training ranges and simulators on Hannon, they didn’t make use of any of them. It was all hurry up and wait. And going to the gym. And going to the chow hall. And going to the club. And going to sleep.

Rinse and repeat.

And with filtered undernet connectivity, Punch and the other AIs were not able to gather much more than was being disseminated from above.

For Marines and soldiers used to action, the inactivity was making them stir-crazy. So, it was a huge relief to get their orders back to Safe Harbor. They still might not have a mission, but if they were going to sit on their asses, better to do that at home.

At least the trip home was in style. They were on a chartered Solstice Line passenger ship, not a navy vessel. And as a first sergeant, Rev rated a C-class cabin, which was pretty darn luxurious, from his point of view.

As icing on the cake, Safe Harbor was the second destination. There was a Twenty-third Marine Division brigade onboard, which was based on New Mars, and the Safe Harbor Marines and troopers were granted forty-eight hours of liberty on the Perseus Union capital.

But now, they were almost home. It wasn’t quite the same as it had been in the past for Rev. There was still no definitive word about his family, so there wouldn’t be a welcome from them. No going home to find out what new dish his mother had learned to cook. No long philosophical chats with his father. No catching up with Neesy.

Still, Safe Harbor was home, and he was glad to be back.

“Flight attendants, please make final preparations. We will cast off in five minutes,” came over the speakers.

“Flight attendants,” Yancey said with a chortle. “Fancy schmancy. We’re living the high life here, I say.”

Rev rolled his eyes.

“Leave him be,” Tomiko whispered while leaning into Rev. “If this rocks his boat, then so what?”

Yancey had been continually upbeat since the battle. He barely acknowledged Hussein’s death, and they had been about as close as any two people could be. He also took the destruction of the Naxli homeworld as signaling the end of the war, and that the new galaxy order would somehow settle into an easy peace. Rev guessed it was better to be positive, but failing to come to grips with reality could result in a later breakdown.

But who the hell am I to be diagnosing Yance?

He turned inward to his battle buddy.

“Are you getting anything on the crowd down at the spaceport? Are they enemies or friends?” he asked, only half-facetiously.

<There are only the two commercial newsfeeds. But there are some comments on WeBe and other apps from people there. It seems as if there are two groups, and the police are present, keeping the two sides apart.>

Shit. Well, I think I’ll keep that to myself for now.

He was a little miffed, though. Yancey hadn’t been wrong. They were, in a sense, the returning conquering heroes. They might not have pulled the trigger, so to speak, but he knew that if they hadn’t been preparing for the invasion, the Sia wouldn’t have acted. They didn’t just happen to show up at that moment by coincidence.

Rev didn’t need a vast victory parade for the returning Legions as they entered Rome—which would be pretty cool, if he was being honest with himself—but victory in the war with the Naxli was pretty much assured now. The people should be grateful. Especially the people on Safe Harbor, who’d now seen twice what war could do to them.

The announcement came on to tell the passengers that they were casting off. Tomiko took his hand across the seat rest, and they sat in silence as the shuttle descended. The screen turned to a live view of the planet below. There was a storm system over most of the continent, but it was still a beautiful view.

Humankind’s puny cities might have suffered significant destruction, but the planet endured.

Not like the Naxli’s homeworld.

Rev hated the Naxli and what they’d done, but to his surprise, he felt the slightest twinge of sympathy for the enemy—a twinge he quickly and adamantly suppressed.

Fuck them. They don’t deserve a homeworld.

The descent took a gentle forty minutes, then finally, the shuttle settled in for a soft landing. Cheers broke out from the troopers.

“This isn’t even their home,” Tomiko quietly said.

Rev hadn’t considered that. He looked around. There were 120 people aboard this shuttle, of which possibly twelve were citizens of the planet. Yet they were cheering. True, they all had a connection to Safe Harbor via Camp Nguyen, but it wasn’t their home.

The thought warmed his soul. They were a family, no matter where they were born. They’d come together and undertaken to defeat what had been perhaps the most severe threat to humanity for 70,000 years, when a last few hundred of them retreated to the shores of eastern Africa and beat the odds to begat humankind.

The kumbaya of togetherness disappeared as soon as they passed through the terminal to the waiting buses. Yes, there were welcoming signs as families showed up to greet their loved ones. There were supporters with oversized Safe Harbor, Perseus Union, and CoH flags. But there were far more protestors, even if they all didn’t seem to be on the same page as each other.

The Children of Angels seemed to be the most numerous, something that made Rev cringe. He did not want to hate anyone, but the Children pushed his limits. The rest was a hodgepodge with various messages. There was a significant anti-Genesian contingent.

“Gennies ≠ humans,” seemed to be a popular one. A few were more damning or advocating violence against them.

Some seemed to advocate disbanding the military. Others in lilac robes beseeched the Sia to save them. Rev didn’t know if these people were part of the Children of Angels or if they simply had the same views as the aliens.

As Rev and Tomiko were passing by the roped-off crowd, one of the onlookers spat at them and screamed, “The Titan military complex brought this hell on us. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

A woman with a Perseus Union flag swore at the man and swung the flag at his head, staggering him. The yellow-arm-banded Children of Angels moved in to separate them. What surprised Rev the most was that the cops just stood by and let the Children handle the situation.

“Well, that was interesting,” Tomiko said as they sat down on the bus.

“‘Interesting’ is an understatement.”

“Do you think that kind of shit’s widespread?”

“It can’t be, Miko. These are just the crazies. The rational folk are just going about their lives and rebuilding.”

She hugged his arm again and said, “I hope so, Rev.”

He patted her hand as the bus rose on its skirts, then he started the trip back to Nguyen.

I hope so, too, Miko.

But he wasn’t very confident that would be the case.

* * *

“No op-checks?” Kelly asked incredulously.

“I’m afraid not,” Captain White Eagle said. “Daryll and Filmore will be running the bench tests on a weekly basis, but no, no op-checks.”

“Uh, sir?” Rev asked. “Not to go against the high and mighty, but they do know that an IBHU has to be run through its paces on a biweekly basis, right? Whatever political pressure was put on this, an IBHU doesn’t care one whit about that. Sieben was very adamant that the op-checks need to be done.”

“I’m well aware of what Sieben says, First Sergeant. But we don’t work for the company, and this is coming straight from the head shed.”

“This is bullshit,” Kelly muttered quietly.

If the captain, who had the same hearing augments as the rest of them, heard her, he chose to ignore the comment.

An IBHU was a complicated, high-tech, and extremely expensive piece of gear. Rumor had it that two of them cost the same as one Buzzard aircraft. The manufacturer’s specs stated that aside from weekly bench tests while in combat, each IBHU had to go through a physical op-check, both to identify problem areas and to put all moving parts into operation, keeping them “greased,” so to speak, on a biweekly basis.

Rev took a moment to look around the room. Too few Marines were there. First Battalion had sixteen IBHUs. Third Battalion had eleven. Six more were in the pipeline. That was it. Out of 421 IBHU Marines created, 33 were left. Fifteen more were going through resurrection rehab, and theoretically, they could don their IBHUs again once they were ready—if they ever would, that is. Forty-eight out of 421.

IBHU Marines had always been at the tip of the spear since their creation. That was their raison d’ être. But that made being an IBHU one of the most dangerous jobs in the military.

But they’d also proved their worth, changing defeat into victory on several occasions.

“So why do they want to risk degrading, or even ruining, any of our IBHUs?” Rev muttered.

<Perhaps they want to disband the program. The easiest way to justify that to supporters would be to have inoperable IBHUs.>

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Except that it did, in a way. Whether or not doing op-checks would really degrade the weapons, it could result in higher long-term maintenance costs, which could sway the bean counters. None of the IBHU components were manufactured on Safe Harbor, and the supply chains were somewhat in flux at the moment. That could increase downtimes, which looked bad to analysts on New Mars.

Suddenly, what Punch suggested seemed more than a little likely. With the public’s focus on the Genesians, it looked like all of the hyper-augments were getting swept up in the fervor, so it could be an answer to a political headache.

“Are they taking our IBHUs away from us, sir?” Rev blurted out.

Fifteen sets of eyes turned to lock on him.

“I don’t know, First Sergeant. I really don’t.”

The fact that he hadn’t denied the question was telling, both for Rev and the rest. This could be phase one of a draw-down.

“We’re not fucking gennies,” Randigold said. “I mean, thank them for fighting the fight for us and all, but if the public wants them gone, then why are we getting dragged into this?”

“They want humanity to be pure, so the singers will uplift us, Eth,” Tsao said. “You’ve seen what they say.”

“Yeah, the angel shits. Who we beat back. Only if you don’t exterminate vermin when you’ve got the chance, they crawl back and infest you again.”

“They’re still humans. We can’t just kill ‘em,” Jersey Khalil said.

“They’d be happy to kill us,” Randigold said, not willing to give in.

“It doesn’t matter why,” the captain said. “These are our orders, and we’re Marines. Don’t you forget that. So, unless there is anything else?”

No one said anything.

“OK. Then that’s that. First Sergeant, please check with Daryll on his schedule. I want a report every week.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

As the only IBHU officer in a combat status left—four were being rehabbed, and one was in the pipeline—Captain White Eagle had become the de facto IBHU leader. Rev was the senior enlisted IBHU. They didn’t have any real authority over the IBHUs outside of the company, but together, they’d taken it upon themselves to be mother hens to the rest.

“And there’s one more thing. As of today, all of these are gone,” the captain said, raising his prosthesis.

“What?” Rev asked. “No arms?”

“Not no arms. Just not these. Rycrofts are banned. We’re all getting Hotchkins.”

There was an immediate uproar.

All of them sported Rycroft prosthetic arms, which had a shiny, metallic-looking exterior. It wasn’t just IBHU Marines that did this. Almost all Marines missing limbs went with the very visible, in-your-face prostheses. They were symbols of the sacrifices that military men and women had made. The Rycrofts were a badge of honor among them. It’s what linked Rev and the current crop with the oldsters like Mr. Oliva.

That’s why they clinked their shiny silver limbs and said “Siblings in Steel,” tapping their prostheses as if they were raising toasts.

Anger seethed within Rev. He’d had about enough of this bowing and groveling beneath the protestors. Randigold had it right. They’d beaten the Children of Angels before. And now that they were growing again, thanks to the Sia, the Marines had to bow to their whims?

“Bullshit,” Rev said before realizing it had not only been out loud but at a shout.

He stood, his warrior self struggling to take control.

“I gave my arm on Alafia, and I carry no shame for that. And if my Rycroft arm hurts the angel shits’ little sensitivities, well fuck them!” he shouted. “I am not a genny, by the Mother. And even if I were, the gennies, at least, were on the nox station, fighting and dying for the same humans who cast them out on their shiny metal asses. I’d rather be a genny than an angel shit or whatever other flavor of crazies are out there.”

The captain was only a messenger, something of which Rev was aware, but his anger was boiling over. The arm was a little thing, he knew. More damning was that since they’d returned to Safe Harbor, they had been exposed to not only the protestors, but had seen how many people were turning against all hyper-augments, not just the IBHUs. All of the rivulets of indignation, accusations, and hatred were filling the reservoir, and the dam had just broken.

The captain hadn’t dismissed them, but Rev was done. He strode to the exit, kicked open the door, and stormed out of the building. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he ended up at the pond. Most of the stately trees that had been in the park surrounding the pond had been destroyed. A few had been trimmed in an attempt to salvage them, and a few hundred saplings had been planted. In the pond, a single swan paddled around, making plaintive-sounding honks as if looking for its mate and cygnets that had made the pond their home before the Naxli came.

Rev sat on one of the new benches that had been put up.

“I feel you, friend,” he told the swan, who gave him a wary eye and paddled away.

That’s where Tomiko and Kat found him almost five hours later. Tomiko sat to his left and Kat to his right.

“Are you OK, big boy?” Tomiko asked.

Rev didn’t answer for a moment, but then asked, “Did they send you to make sure I wasn’t going to go postal on the protestors outside the gate? I can’t, dontcha know. They’re taking away Pashu.”

“Kelly told me what happened. I asked Kat to come and help me find you.”

He didn’t respond.

“What are you going to . . . you know?” she asked, lightly touching his prosthesis.

Rev grunted before turning it into a painful laugh. He reached over with his right hand, and with a sure, twisting motion, detached the metallic arm and handed it to her.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to be a good little boy and not upset the civilians. I’ll get the Hotchkins, so they’d never know that a big bad wolf is roaming around them and the other sheep.”

30

“First Sergeant, you got a minute?”

Rev looked up from the morning message board.

“Of course, sir.”

Captain White Eagle stepped into his office, closed the door, and slumped into one of the chairs against the bulkhead. He looked tired.

“Anything on the board?” the captain asked. “I haven’t seen it yet.”

“The noxes lost another planet. This one to the scorps.”

The captain shrugged. Six months ago, that would be news. But since the destruction of the Naxli planets, the remaining enemy forces and strongholds were falling like dominoes. For such a formidable enemy, they seemed to have lost their mojo. They still fought, but without much in the way of fervor. And according to reports, they never offered gnista. It was as if they’d accepted their fate and were only resisting to be able to go out with their sense of honor intact.

“The scorps are on a tear,” Rev said, hoping to prompt the company commander for a bit of new intel. But if he knew anything that wasn’t publicly available, Captain White Eagle wasn’t offering it up.

The galaxy-wide alliance was in flux. With the Sia’s actions, there seemed to be something of a land rush among the allies. Rev got the feeling that the previous ownership of planets before the Naxli took them was no longer pertinent. Certainly, some of the previous inhabitants, entire races of beings, had been eliminated. But not all. There were survivors from specific planets, and more often, there were more members of the specific race on other planets.

Hovering over all the activity was the Sia. No one knew exactly what they were up to, but the knowledge of what they could do was a sword hanging over everyone’s heads.

From what Rev and Punch could glean, the government now thought that the Uauii had known about the Sia’s capabilities all along, and they blamed the upstart humans for pushing the elder race over the edge. And now, they feared the Sia would not withdraw from the scene but exert some sort of control over the galaxy.

That wasn’t stopping them from trying to grab territory, though. They were in the mix, along with races that hadn’t been involved in fighting the Naxli, but were now in a feeding frenzy. Only the Kanters seemed to be above the fray, fighting the Naxli but not grabbing territory.

The big question for Rev and the rest was how the current turmoil would affect the brigade. They hadn’t been involved in any of the three subsequent human fights with Naxli holdouts, and the feeling was that they’d been shunted off to the side.

The captain leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes for a moment. It looked to Rev like he was hiding out, staying away from his own office for a respite. He certainly hadn’t come into Rev’s office just to ask about the message board.

But if he wasn’t going to say anything, Rev could.

“Did you hear about the lemmings and the planet they liberated? Over a hundred thousand human slaves there,” Rev said.

The captain opened one eye to stare at Rev. “A hundred thousand? I didn’t see that. Any word?”

“They disseminated the list last night. And no.”

“Sorry about that. But they’ll rescue more. Keep your hopes up.”

Rev hadn’t given up on finding his family. There was a chance that they were out there somewhere, waiting to be found. Punch was continually monitoring the government lists of recovered citizens. There’d been more than twelve million people rescued so far. Who was to say his family wouldn’t be next?

“A decision’s been made on the pipeline,” the captain finally said.

Rev waited with a raised eyebrow. No new candidates for receiving an IBHU had started the process. In two more weeks, the final group of only six should hit the battalion. With the procedures and training involved, it would take seven to eight months for new IBHUs to hit the fleet, and that was if Sieben started up the line again. Daryll had told him that there were only five completed IBHUs ready to use at the ward at the Anastasia Naval Hospital and another eight at the Sieben facility on Douger’s End.

With numbers of active IBHU Marines so low, both the manufacture of the arms and the implementation process needed to be kicked back into high gear.

“The ‘temporary’ halt has been extended,” the captain said in a flat voice.

“By the Mother . . . don’t they realize you can’t just go down to the armory and draw a trained IBHU Marine?”

The captain just shrugged.

“They’re taking our IBHUs away. I knew it,” Rev said.

The topic had been discussed and debated, and they’d shouted at each other more often than not. Kelly thought the debate was ridiculous. The galaxy was still in flux. There were still large numbers of Naxli, even if they were being defeated right and left. But humanity’s ties with the other aliens were strenuous at best. Without the Naxli threat, each race’s own goals and aspirations were coming to the forefront. There was no fighting between the allies—yet. But the threat was there, and it seemed stupid to take away one potential weapon, a tool in humanity’s toolbox.

Others, like Randigold and Cocker, were sure that either the CoH or the Union would cave in to the growing public pressure and disband the program. The new Tau Ceti government, made up from officials on their provincial world of Jandical when their home world had been scoured, had already done that. Randigold told everyone who would listen that if they came for her IBHU, they’d have to take it off her cold, dead shoulder.

Rev wasn’t sure which way the winds were really blowing, but if they were kicking the can down the road on creating new IBHU Marines, then that wasn’t a good omen.

“At least the Mad Dogs aren’t putting up with this kind of bullshit,” Rev said.

The captain opened one eye and gave Rev a long stare.

“What, sir?”

“You didn’t hear?”

Rev didn’t like the sound of that. “Hear what?”

The captain’s wristcomp buzzed. He took a quick look and then ignored it.

“The Mad Dogs. They’re suspending the karnan program. They announced it yesterday,” he told Rev.

“Punch? Why didn’t you tell me this?”

<It isn’t in social media or the newscasts. The captain must have gotten that through a secure back channel. I’ll try and ferret out something to confirm that.>

“They need their program just as much as we do, sir, after what happened to Second Battalion.”

The MDS had never given the numbers of their karnans, but some estimates ran as high as 10,000 of them created. They’d suffered horrendous losses during the wars, and the understanding was that most of the surviving karnans had made the bulk of Second Battalion, which had been devastated in the Naxli home system.

“They’ve got the same pressures from the crazies that we do. Maybe more,” Captain White Eagle said.

Which was true. The MDS and their few allies had been defeated by the rest of humanity, which had to have affected their collective psyche. And to have had “their” battalion wiped out, well, maybe the public was just getting tired of the government’s military adventurism.

But the Mad Dogs? If anyone would thumb their nose at the angel shits and all the rest, it should be them.

“It’s the gennies,” the captain added, almost as if an afterthought. “If they hadn’t shown up, this would all blow over. But the leeches think they’re organizing to take us on again, and all of us hyper-augments are going to join them.”

“That’s friggin’ ridiculous. I mean, I don’t hate them like I used to. They saved us on Pakao and made taking the weapons station easier. But they’re not us. And anyway, I think they’d just like to slink away to some corner of the galaxy and get on with their lives.”

“I didn’t say they were right. Only that’s what they think. You get the leaders of the angel shits, the Welcomers, the Lilacs, and all the rest of the purists to scream it long enough and loud enough, and some people are going to believe it.”

“Idiots.”

The captain’s wristcomp buzzed again, and he gave it a quick glance. “Well, no rest for the weary. I can’t ignore this one, so I’d better get back to work.”

He slowly pulled himself out of the chair, and then before he left, he said, “For what it’s worth, I don’t think they’re taking our IBHUs. We might not have access to them, but I have to think that the Corps, at least, realizes that even with so few numbers, we can still be an asset.

Rev stared at his back as the door closed behind him.

I hope you’re right, sir. I really hope you’re right.

* * *

“That’s total bullshit.”

Rev and Kelly exchanged knowing looks, but not discreetly enough.

“What’s with you? It is bullshit. They’re treating you like pariahs,” Tomiko said.

She might be expressing outrage on behalf of IBHUs, but both of them knew that she still harbored dreams of becoming one. This effectively closed the door on that.

“Did you check with Daryll?” Kelly asked.

Rev nodded. “Like the skipper said. We’ve got the three in the armory, and there’re four more at the hospital. Seven total. No more coming in.”

“So, it’s probably true. I wonder why it hasn’t been all over the news. The purists keep demanding it, after all.”

“Maybe the Corps is fighting to keep the option open? I don’t know,” Rev said.

“When are you going to tell the others?”

“I’m not sure. What if this isn’t a done deal?”

“You have to, Rev,” Tomiko said. “And maybe tell the press. We need to get people riled up to stop this.”

Rev loved Tomiko and would do almost anything for her. Getting involved in a run-around behind the Corps’ or government’s back was a bridge too far, though.

“Miko, we can’t do that,” Kelly said softly. “You know that.”

“If you two don’t have the balls to take this on, that’s on you. I swear, for combat fighters, you can be fucking wimps sometimes.”

She abruptly stood, glared at them for a moment, and then stormed out of Rev’s office.

“Well, that was not entirely unexpected,” Kelly said.

“It’s not as if she was ever a candidate. She’s not missing an arm.”

“I know, but now even the potential is gone. I mean, we are Marines, and we have been known to lose limbs in combat.”

“But even if the gods of war rolled the dice and came up with . . . uh, I don’t know what the correct analogy is here. If, by an off chance, she lost an arm, she’s a resurrectee. Would they even select her? Would she qualify?”

Resurrectees had varying degrees of subtle damage to their prions and other parts of their nervous system—Rev really wasn’t up on all of the technicalities. That limited what they could and could not do. Even if they were seemingly fine on the outside, the chances of the rot or other incurable conditions were increased, and something as natural as having a child was extremely high risk if it was even possible to conceive. Tomiko was lucky in that the cold weather on Tahiti had limited degradation, and she’d been part of the ten percent or so who made it back to full duty. Others, like Ten, were permanently disabled.

“You need to talk to her,” Kelly said.

“Me? I was hoping you would. You’re her best friend.”

She squinted her eyes at him. “And you’re her fiancé, Rev. You know she wants your respect.”

“I love her, Kelly.”

“Which isn’t the same as respect.”

He let that sink in for a moment. When he’d heard about the IBHU situation, he’d never dreamed it would impact his relationship with Tomiko. He sighed. It was just one more thing on his plate.

“So, what do you think about the gennies?” Kelly asked.

Rev was grateful for her changing the subject.

“It’s not that big of a difference. Everybody had heard the rumors.”

“But now it’s confirmed. And that’s why the protests.”

“I think they planned it this way. Let the rumors leak to get the people primed. Then when they officially announce that the gennies are alive, it isn’t that much of a shock.”

“And you notice they hyped up how the gennies saved us on Pakao and then what they did on the nox station.”

“Which we could have done. We could have made the breach, Kelly.”

“Losing how many troopers doing it?”

“I’ll concede that. But the reason was so they could point out how valuable the gennies are and how they want to help humanity. They’re not a threat.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Then what’s the alternative? Fight a damn war with them?”

“No, I don’t want a war,” Rev said. “I’ve had enough fighting to last a lifetime. And I’ve got nothing against them, to be honest. We owe our lives to them. I don’t know how many of them are left. Not many, I’m sure. So, we’d win any war, but we’d lose a lot of Marines. But if they aren’t a threat, then why do it?”

“The purists are calling for war.”

“Purists” was a new, catch-all term for all of the groups that had sprung up that wanted to eliminate all augments, not just hyper-augments. The Children of Angels might be the largest organized of the groups, but they were hardly the only one.

Their core tenet was to be pure of body and mind so that the Sia would raise them up or take them away or guide them to increased wealth (yes, that was one of the group’s beliefs). The end results were envisioned differently, but they all encompassed the “purity of the human form.”

“We haven’t even beat the noxes yet, Kelly. And they want another war? Let them fight it out, then. The gennies will kick their sanctimonious asses.”

Kelly reached over and put a hand on Rev’s prosthesis. “But we’re the enemy, too, Rev. Us, the karnans, the Rangers, and the rest. Are you ready to fight them? Are you ready to declare war on the rest of humanity?”

It was a simple question, and one Rev really hadn’t considered until she asked that. Were they heading into a fight with a huge chunk of humankind? Had it gotten that bad?

Rev didn’t want to know the answer to that.

31

“Are you sure you want to, Rev? Without your family?”

“It’s been ten months, Miko. I have to face reality.”

“But they’re finding pockets of humans all the time now. Even from Safe Harbor.”

“That was a month ago,” Rev said.

He still had hope. Tomiko was right in that as more and more Naxli-held planets fell, human slaves were being rescued. But the numbers were dwindling as there was an ever-shrinking number of Naxli holdouts. There was still a chance, of course. There were millions of humans yet to be accounted for. But his rational self was not as optimistic as he’d been once the battle for Safe Harbor had been decided.

“So, my question is if you just want to go ahead and get it done.”

<That wasn’t what could be classified as the most romantic proposal.>

Her eyebrows furrowed, and with Punch’s comment, he hurriedly added, “I didn’t mean it like that, Miko. What I mean is that since we aren’t doing much right now, maybe we should just get it done and out of the way while we can.”

<From all perspectives, that wasn’t much better.>

“Shit. I mean, I want to—”

She raised a forefinger to his lips. “I know what you mean. And maybe it is time. We don’t know what the future will bring, and just about everybody’s here. Your mother and Neesy were going to help put this together, but maybe Ten and Malaika could take over. Or Kelly, if she has the time.”

Rev blanched just a hair. To have Malaika, who, like the idiot he was, he’d picked over Tomiko what seemed like a couple of centuries ago, involved with a wedding just didn’t seem right. But evidently, Tomiko had forgotten the past much more readily than he could.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted—”

She used the finger to cut him off again. “What I want is you, Rev. The fourteen-year-old me wanted the big to-do, with me in a white dress and a train so long it would take eight people to carry it. But, we’re Marines, Rev. We get the mission done, no matter the circumstances. We’ve waited long enough for the right moment, but maybe the right moment is a figment of our imagination. My imagination. The important thing’s that we’re together.”

She paused. “So, to answer your so romantically phrased question, yes. Let’s do it. I’ll give Ten a call and get the ball rolling. I think we can get the VGW hall for the reception.”

She was beginning to sound excited, which was a relief for Rev. He’d been wondering what she would want to do. But she looked like she was getting into the idea.

Tomiko grabbed Rev by the collar and dragged him down for a long kiss. When they broke, she looked up at him and said, “You’re my man, Reverent Pelletier, and it’s about time I made an honest man out of you.”

32

“I love you fucking persies. ’Specially you oners,” Nirro said before leaning forward to hug Rev.

Half of the karnan’s drink splashed out over Rev’s chest.

“An’ I . . . an’ I . . . oh, hell! I jus’ love you.”

Rev wrapped his prosthetic arm around the karnan—or, more specifically, wrapped partway across his back. Karnans had broad backs.

“I love you, too, you Mad Dog.”

Nirro laughed, then barked like a dog half a dozen times before letting go of Rev and staggering over to the next Marine—Kelly, in this case. She gave Rev a “help me” look over Nirro’s shoulder as the karnan enveloped her in another hug.

Rev just smiled, but then it hit him. He hadn’t been lying. He did love the MDS soldier, something he’d have never thought possible given his opinion of them as a people. He took a moment to look around the gym that had been commandeered for the party. He loved all of his battalion mates.

Ex-battalion mates, he had to correct himself.

As of 1600 that afternoon, the First Human Expeditionary Brigade had furled its colors and been disbanded. All of the troopers were being sent back to their home services.

There were more than a few tears as both the brigade and First Battalion colors were ceremoniously rolled up and slipped into the covers. And that was before the farewell party had started and the booze began to flow.

Simultaneously, Third Battalion, on Nowy Kraków, had held the same formation, their furling of the colors being beamed to the rest of the brigade.

The order to decommission the brigade had come down only a week before, and despite some of the media chatter and newscasts, it had taken Rev and the rest by surprise. And to go from receiving the orders and actually going through the ceremony in eight days was nothing short of light speed.

The physical act was not even close to being done. The brigade might not officially exist, but many of the troopers would stay behind on Safe Harbor for up to another month as the logistics of decommissioning a brigade were accomplished.

As far as the Marines in the brigade, they were now part of First Heavy Infantry Battalion again, which had been stood up that morning with far less ceremony. On the one hand, Rev was happy to be in a Marine unit again, not having to worry about other services’ ways of doing business, not having to worry about getting a sniper 1 mixed up with a blue master. But on the other hand, these were his troopers. They’d fought and bled together, and that had formed a bond. Whether MDS, Frisian, or Hégémonie, they were brothers in arms. And they’d done well. Amazingly well. They’d answered the call to battle and acquitted themselves with honor.

What else could you ask of a warrior?

And yes, Rev loved every single one of the bastards.

Nirro still had Kelly in his iron grip. Rev walked over, took his massive arm, and peeled it off of her.

“Your drink is empty, Mad Dog. So is mine. Let me go buy us both another.”

“But the MDS paid for all the booze,” the drunk soldier said.

“Which makes it easier for me, right?”

Nirro hesitated a moment before Rev’s words sunk in. “Oh, I get it. Good one, First Sergeant.”

He laid an arm around Rev, but before they could step off, Kelly said, “You’re buying me one, too.”

The karnan already had his left arm around Rev’s shoulder, so he raised his right arm, and Kelly stepped into it while putting her left arm around his waist.

Linked together, the three warriors marched up to the bar.

* * *

Rev looked Kat in the eyes, staring into her soul. She unblinkingly stared in return, waiting.

Brother or not, Rev wasn’t going to hold back. With a quick move, he stepped forward and drove his knee into her thigh. She buckled slightly at the knee, then quickly regained her posture.

Rev pulled her in for a hug and said, “Congratulations, Corporal.”

Earlier in the day, Rev had pinned on her NCO chevrons during the official ceremony at her company office. What he was doing now was unofficial, but to many NCOs, more important.

Getting a “blood stripe” was strictly illegal, and as a first sergeant, it could technically end up with him even getting court-martialed. When a Marine made NCO, they received red stripes running down the outer seams of their dress blue trousers. But in a tradition going back to the old United States Marines Corps, the new corporal received their “blood stripe” from every NCO and SNCO in the company. As Kat’s brother, he was invited as well. New corporals put up with the pain, even if it resulted in a trip to sickbay afterward. Which was why the ceremony was illegal. But this was one of those times when the officers made themselves scarce and turned a blind eye to the goings-on.

Rev, as the senior enlisted present, was the last one, but there was no sign of relief in her expression. Only pride—the same thing that radiated from Rev.

“Now, how about opening the tap, Corporal?”

Kat turned around, wincing in pain. “Ladies and gentlemen, the bar is now open!”

“She took it well,” Tomiko said as Kat’s fellow NCOs crowded around to congratulate her.

“I expected no less, Miko. She’s a Pelletier, after all.”

“Are you going to get a drink? Corporals aren’t exactly made of money.”

“I remember well. But yes, we should get one drink. She’ll expect it.”

“One drink? You’re getting to be a lightweight big boy. If you’re going to drink, then drink.”

Rev gave her a single raised eyebrow. “Really, Miko? You think they want a first sergeant and a gunny hanging around while they celebrate? Look, the Golf SNCOs are already leaving.”

“But we’re not their SNCOs, and you’re her brother,” she started to say but then changed her mind. “Maybe you’re right, though.”

“One drink, and then we can get the hell out of here and let them celebrate without us looking over their shoulders.”

“And go where?”

“Since we’re two blocks from the main gate, maybe the Nguyen club?”

Camp Reyes had its own SNCO club, but as a satellite camp, it wasn’t as big or as nice as the one on mainside. The blood stripes ceremony was at the Long Gun, one of the dozen dive bars right outside the main gate, so they could get to the SNCO club in five minutes.

She intertwined her arm in his, hooking his elbow. “Or, since we’re already off base, maybe we catch an autocab and check out the VGW and make sure everything’s on track?”

“What? You’d go with me and not your chief of staff?”

Without Rev’s family around to help or anyone in Tomiko’s family that gave a rat’s ass about her getting married, Kelly had eagerly taken over as Tomiko’s right-hand woman in getting the wedding planned with Ten and Malaika helping her. Rev had been pretty much left out of most everything so far.

“She’s not here. Besides, she already went yesterday.”

“Yesterday? And you think something’s changed since then?”

She shrugged and started pulling him toward the door. “I just want to see it.”

Rev would rather hang out at the club, have a beer, and see who else might show up. But he knew that wasn’t going to fly. Tomiko had started to become more and more excited about planning everything, and he wasn’t going to dampen any of that.

“Corporal!” Rev shouted at Kat. “Have fun, but not so much the cops get involved!”

She waved, and Rev could see the other corporals and sergeants start to relax as he and Tomiko left. Sister or not, leaving was the right call.

As was the norm, a line of autocabs was waiting by the main gate. Within a minute, they were being whisked downtown on a twenty-minute ride. Tomiko prattled on about the status of the plans while Rev sat with a bemused smile and interjected the appropriate “uh-huhs” and “rights.” This was a side of his fiancée that was new to him, and he rather enjoyed seeing it.

Tomiko was a certified hard-ass, not given to frills or frivolities. While he knew that she wanted the full-monty wedding, he hadn’t realized how much the trappings of the ceremony mattered to her. She’d lived a hard life, one without much love or normal family relationships, and so maybe it wasn’t surprising that she wanted to start her own family with a degree of normalcy.

It would have been so much better with his family involved. A pang hit him hard as the thought came to him. He missed them terribly, and having a ceremony without them was going to be hard. But he was bound and determined to make this the wedding she’d always wanted.

“And I think we should go with two chocolate fountains . . .” she was saying before trailing off. “What’s all that in front of us?” she asked as the autocab slowed down, a message flashing on the interface that the road was closed.

Rev had been drifting off in his thoughts, but that snapped him back to attention. Flashing lights of police vehicles were visible ahead on Granite Street. Half a block from the intersection was the VGW’s Post 747944. Rev opened the door of the autocab, setting off the, “Please close the door and return to your seat. We cannot proceed until you comply.”

He didn’t care. The autocab was already stopped, and he had a hollow feeling in his stomach. Bile crept up the back of his throat.

Looking over the top of the autocab, he could see smoke eddying over the top of the trees and houses on the next street. Projecting the smoke farther, it seemed to be coming from right about where the post would be.

“Come on,” he told Tomiko.

The autocab kept repeating that they had not reached the destination and that no refunds would be granted for cutting the ride short. Rev paid no attention as the two hurried down the street.

“Do you think it’s the post?” Tomiko asked.

Rev was sure the smoke was coming from the post. What he didn’t know was the cause or if it was a simple trash fire. But his heart told him it was big. The number of first responders’ flashing lights was too large for something inconsequential.

Granite was three blocks ahead, and as they rounded the corner, Rev’s fears were confirmed.

“Those motherfuckers!” Tomiko shouted as she broke into a run.

“We don’t know if it was arson,” Rev said as he ran alongside her.

In his heart, though, he knew it was. The post, which had been heavily damaged during the Centaur invasion, had been rebuilt strictly to code. It had only taken a small amount of easily repaired damage during the Naxli invasion. The entire block had been somewhat untouched, unlike the rest of the area, so it wasn’t just the improvements made after the Centaur invasion that had kept the building standing and functional.

As part of those code improvements, there weren’t any loose wires or whatever that would start a fire. Even arson would be hard-pressed to cause the damage they saw as they approached. Most of the building was made of inflammable materials, so to turn the post into a blackened shell would take some dedicated effort by whoever wanted it gone.

The two slowed down and came to a stop at the police tape. The interior of the post was pretty much gone. The flames must have been intense for so much damage, but now wisps of smoke reached for the sky as firebots crawled around the wreckage like demented giant spiders as they searched out hotspots that might flare up.

“Not much left of anything to burn,” Rev said as he watched the bots.

“Damn fuckers couldn’t wait, could they? Now where do we have the reception? Leteeka’s?”

Rev gave her an askance look. The post was gone, and she was worried about their reception?

But this was more of the hard-ass Tomiko surfacing. She wasn’t going to cry over something she couldn’t control. She was just going to react to the situation that had been thrown at her.

She raised her wristcomp, probably to call Leteeka’s, when she stopped and in a softer voice, said, “Look. There’s Jorge.”

Only Tomiko could call Rev’s mentor by his first name. Rev turned and spotted Mr. Oliva standing on the opposite side of the street, just beyond the police tape. The old Berroni War vet looked horrible.

“Let’s go,” Tomiko said, and the two made their way around the cops and firemen to where Mr. Oliva stood in shocked silence.

The old man had stayed in the city when the Naxli arrived, refusing to leave. Rev hadn’t gotten the full details—Mr. Oliva would share them when he was ready—but he evidently didn’t just hide out. According to what Rev had heard, he’d actually resisted somehow. And after, he’d gained a good bit of swagger. That swagger was gone now.

“They did it,” he said as the two Marines approached. “They said they were goin’ to do it, an’ they sure did.”

“Who did this, sir?” Tomiko asked with steel as sharp as ice in her voice.

“The Lilacs. That’s who.”

Rev was a little confused. The Lilacs were one of the latest Sia-loving groups. In the six months since the Sia did their thing to the Naxli, there had been no Sia-Human contact. The Lilacs were one of the groups that believed the Sia were only waiting until humanity proved itself worthy, and one way to do that would be to disband every military. They’d hit bases across human-held space, causing minor damage, but security had been tightened, and Rev hadn’t heard much about them since.

Their ideology was stupid, at least from Rev’s point of view. If the Sia really were some higher-level beings, and they wanted humans to disband militaries to prove they were peaceful, then why use violence? Wasn’t that proving to the Sia that humankind wasn’t ready to be uplifted?

Rev didn’t give the Sia-as-gods theory any weight at all. He just hated the hypocrisy in what the crazies were doing.

“This isn’t a base, sir,” Rev pointed out. “There’s no military presence here.”

“They can’t hit Nguyen. So, they burnt down the post,” the old man said, his voice cracking.

Rev was angry. Not just at what had happened to the post home but for the increasing rhetoric against the military as a whole, and against hyper-augments in particular. Tomiko was angry for the same reasons, but also that her wedding plans had been tossed aside.

For Mr. Oliva, however, the post was his life. His wife, Maude, had long since passed, and he had no family left except for his fellow comrades. The Centaurs had destroyed the post home once, and now he was looking at going through the same rebuilding again. Rev hoped he had the strength. The old man looked so frail that it was a miracle his legs supported his slight weight. His skin looked almost translucent.

As Rev watched, though, the vet straightened his body, and a bit of fire seemed to take hold of him.

“The bastards ain’t goin’ to win. We’ll rebuild. An’ iffen they come again, they’ll see what old Marines can do to protect what’s theirs.”

“Not just old Marines, Jorge,” Tomiko said with passion. “We’re all brothers and sisters. We’re there for each other, no matter who’s against us.”

The population seemed to be turning against them, the very ones who’d defeated the enemy that threatened their very existence. Maybe not all of the people. Maybe not most. But enough so that the military was being threatened.

And in this case, the cowards were not going to do anything to the base. No, they were going to hit a soft target and make life miserable for a bunch of old Marines and sailors who were sliding into old age.

Rev stepped up and put his arm around the frail old man’s shoulders. “She’s right, sir. I don’t care about the rules. Whatever you need, we’re here for you, no matter what.”

33

“I’ve been to that bar,” Yancey said. “Not taking anything away from Leteeka’s, but we should try it together sometime. Me and Hus-man, we picked up these two older ladies there. Or I should say, they picked us up. Hus-man, he did his too cool to fool . . .”

Yancey trailed off as if he’d forgotten for a moment that Hussein was dead. The two had been best friends, and despite the outward front he’d displayed since the battle, Rev knew he hadn’t really gotten over the loss.

The rest of them went silent for a moment. Rev had taken Hussein’s death hard, too. But he’d lost so many friends, and probably his family, too, that he was somewhat numb by now. It was as if he’d erected a barrier between himself and grief. Sometimes grief found a way through, though.

“Respect for the fallen,” he said, and the rest chimed in.

“I think we need another pitcher,” Yancey said as he stood and walked over to the bar.

Yancey could have ordered it from their table, but Rev didn’t say anything. He knew his friend needed a moment to compose himself.

He glanced across the table at Tomiko, who was leaning into Kelly, their heads almost touching. They were probably discussing the wedding reception, which was the real reason for their being there. It was a miracle that she was even there, getting ready to marry him. Rev had lost Tomiko once, when she was killed on Tahiti, and he’d been sure she was past resurrection. He knew what soul-engulfing loss felt like.

Thank the Mother I still have her.

He wasn’t sure he could take losing her again. She was his anchor.

He rolled up a napkin and was about to throw it at her when Punch said, <You’re being mentioned on SGN-14 right now.>

Punch had taken to being silent for long periods of time, but he was constantly browsing both the civilian media as well as whatever military messages he had access to, bringing up anything he thought Rev might be interested in.

“Screen two, turn to SGN-14 News.”

Leteeka’s had four 2D screens throughout the bar, and Screen 2, which was showing a basketball game, switched to the protests of the two guys in the next booth.

The scene made Rev’s heart skip a few beats. He immediately recognized the content. Taken from one of the security cameras, it showed a determined Rev entering the chapel at Creekwalk Park during one of the darkest periods of his life. The scene cut out a split second before he killed the Naxli assassin who’d just murdered his brother.

“ . . . untold propensity for violence,” an off-screen voice was saying.

“That’s not quite fair, Knust. His brother had just been murdered, and at his wedding, no less,” another voice said.

Yancey returned with a pitcher and slid into his seat, his eyes on the screen.

The scene shifted to the aftermath, of Rev being questioned by the police.

“Maybe so. But the authorities were there. Do we want killing machines like these azris to be the judge, jury, and executioner out in public? I mean, it’s bad enough that they’re hiding the gennies from us, but these hyper-augments are a homegrown threat.”

Tomiko and Kelly had their backs to the screen, but they saw Rev and Yancey’s attention locked on it, and they turned in unison.

“Oh, Rev,” Tomiko said.

The feed switched to the studio.

The immaculately turned-out woman—Lansing, Lanner, or something like that, Rev thought—said, “Gunnery Sergeant Pelletier is a hero, Knust. He’s been in the right place at the right time more than once, and we, as a nation, should be grateful to him.”

“He’s a first sergeant, lady,” Tomiko muttered.

“And I am grateful for his past service. For all of our Marine’s past service. But isn’t that time done and gone? With the Sia taking over, we need to rid ourselves of the propensity for violence.”

“Oh, great. He’s one of them,” Yancey said.

“We don’t know if the Sia will step in again. They didn’t for hundreds of years, if what our allies have said is true.”

“I think they will, now that they’ve played their hand. As do others. But take that away. Do we want uncontrollable killers running around polite society? I have it on good authority that Pelletier is known as the ‘Nexus of Chaos.’ I don’t know about you, but I don’t want chaos on the loose here.”

“Screen 2, turn off,” Tomiko said.

“Screen 2, stay on,” Rev barked.

Tomiko looked at Rev with compassion, but she didn’t try again.

“So, you’re proposing that all of the azris be de-augmented?”

That got everyone’s attention.

“I want to see the entire segment when we’re done,” Rev told Punch.

<Roger.>

“Why not? There’re fewer than a hundred of them, if the reports we’re getting are right. Out of how many million Marines in the Union? They’re a drop in the bucket. And I think not only will it make us safer from a Pelletier going berserk, but it will show the Sia we’re embracing peace.

“We don’t want them to ever think we’re a threat like the Naxli were, am I right?”

The woman tilted her head back and laughed, her perfectly coifed blonde hair not moving in the least. “I guess you have a good point there, Knust. No, we don’t want the Sia against us.”

“And it’s not just Pelletier. He’s just one of them. One who’s shown that he can lose it, but there are others. Two have PTSD. They’ve taken away their weapon arms, but they still have the other augments. Remember, they’ve got their combat AIs. That alone makes them dangerous to us civilians.”

Rev wondered if the PTSD comment was true, and if so, who the man was referring to.

“Punch, I want more information on that.”

<Roger.>

“We need to take away the things that make them so deadly, but the word from the Marine commandant is that they can’t.”

The woman leaned slightly back in her chair and said, “Well, that’s because of the extent of the modifications. Some augments cannot be removed because of the altered DNA, and from the brief Sieben, which I’d like to remind the viewers is the company that developed the IBHU program, gave yesterday, unless the augments were recent, some of the physical modifications will have become so intertwined within the Marines’ bodies that they cannot be readily removed.”

“Readily does not mean they can’t be.”

“And if some of them die during the process?”

“Lots of people have died, Becca. Especially here on Safe Harbor.”

That seemed to take the woman aback. She paused as if trying to come up with something to say but then shook her head.

“And with that, I’d like to open it up to our viewers. If you have an opinion on what to do with our azris, we want to hear it. Connect with “We Want to Know” on your wristcomp. And we already have our first caller. Dymer, from Star Ranch. You’re on the air.”

“The damn azris are what brought the Naxli to Safe Harbor in the first place. They’re in league with the genn—”

“Screen 2, off,” Tomiko said.

This time, Rev let it be.

“They’re idiots, Rev,” Kelly said, but sounding a little unsure.

“They won’t take away your augments, will they? Or ours? Most of them are the same for both of us,” Yancey said.

“You’re not the devils in league with the gennies,” Rev said.

It was commonly accepted that the IBHUs would be taken away for good. But the augments? Rev had all of his the longest, and what the woman said was true, from what Rev knew. The webbing, supports, nervous connections, and assists that allowed Rev to use his IBHU will have been completely meshed with his body by now. Trying to remove them would probably be fatal or leave him a hunk of unresponsive meat.

“They’re not touching my body,” Kelly said. “No way.”

“This is all just sensational talk for the ratings. “We Want to Know” is hardly actual journalism,” Tomiko said.

She stood up and walked around the table to sit next to Rev. “And picking on you was bullshit. What you did after Grover was killed, well, you probably saved all the people at the wedding.”

Annageline came over to the table with a fresh pitcher. She placed it on the table next to the one Yancey had brought over that was still untouched.

“On the house,” she said. “Pay them no never mind. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks, Anna,” Tomiko said.

Rev just nodded as what he’d seen sank in. He hadn’t realized that things had deteriorated this far.

He tried to compose what he wanted to tell the others, when his wristcomp buzzed. He gave it a quick glance. It was the company office.

“Interior listen,” he told Punch.

Whatever the call was, he didn’t want the others to hear.

“First Sergeant,” the captain said. “Where are you?”

The captain could track him, if necessary, but that was considered poor form.

“We’re at Leteeka’s. We came to do some wedding liaison,” he subvocalized.

“Did you see the segment?”

He didn’t have to mention which segment.

“My battle buddy alerted me.”

“Piece of garbage, but you need to come back now. Any other of us with you?”

“O’Donnell, sir.”

“Both of you need to get back now. And if you see any others, drag them along with you.”

“On our way,” Rev said, and the captain cut the call.

“We need to go,” he told Kelly.

All four stood up, but Rev said, “Just the two of us need to go.”

Tomiko rolled her eyes. “If you have to go, we’re going, too. Let me pay the bill, then we can get an autocab.”

“I’ll get it,” he said.

As a first sergeant, he made more than the other three. But when he walked up to the bar, Annageline waved him off.

It’s good to know that at least some people appreciate us. But the question is how many don’t.

He had a feeling they’d find out soon enough.

* * *

“Attention on deck!”

The sixteen IBHUs located at Camp Reyes jumped to attention.

“At ease,” Major General Auriolis, the Second Division CG, walked into the small classroom. “Take your seats.”

It was just him. No aide, no strap hangers. The brief was odd in and of itself. The fact that it would be the commanding general, and he was alone, just made it all the more strange.

It was twelve days since the “We Want to Know” segment. Twelve days in which it went viral, spreading far beyond the Anastasia studio and throughout not just the Union but all of human space.

The IBHUs were restricted to Camp Reyes. They were not “confined,” Colonel Caplan had stressed. But they were asked not to leave. With forced free time on their hands, Rev and Punch had done a lot of digging, and it wasn’t just the “We Want to Know” show that had riled people up. The sentiment had not just been simmering. It was growing on a daily basis. The Children of Angels had seemingly rehabilitated itself and claimed that their beliefs had been proven right. And the masses were eating it up. The group’s membership had grown exponentially. It wasn’t just them. There had to be hundreds of the groups that had sprung up like mushrooms in Tall Trees Provincial Park after a rain.

If it weren’t for the Genesians, Rev thought most of the furor would die down. But two hundred years of propaganda had become deep-seated. The Genesians were the enemy, the true threat to humankind. The IBHU Marines and the rest of the hyper-augments were being swept up in the turmoil.

And now the IBHUs were gathered in one of the classrooms. General Auriolis was the only non-IBHU in the room. Not even Colonel Caplan was there.

The general gave the gathered Marines a long look before he sighed and ran his hand over the top of his head. He looked beat, as if he’d been in a fight.

“I . . . I’m not sure what to say. I’d prepared a speech on the way over, full of the rah-rah bullshit, but you deserve better.”

This was decidedly un-general-like. That and the “you deserve better” raised Rev’s mental guard.

“I’m going to get right to the point. You’re getting screwed. All of you. Screwed big time.”

No one said a word. They knew they were getting screwed. The questions were by what, how hard it would be, and how long the screwing was going to take.

“As I’m sure you’ve already determined, your IBHU days are over. The weapons are going to be decommissioned and put into mothballs.”

They’d all figured that out, but it was still something of a gut punch when a two-star said it. That made it real.

Rev felt a huge sense of loss. Pashu had been a part of him for a long time. Both his first and second ones had defined who he was in many ways.

“But there’s more coming, despite the commandant’s intense lobbying on your behalf. The public is clamoring for, I guess the only way to put it is for your, well, neutering.”

There was a small intake of breath.

Neutering? What’s he getting at?

Captain White Eagle asked the question aloud. “What do you mean by neutering? Like for a dog?”

There were a few nervous laughs from the Marines.

“I guess I could have picked a better word. They don’t want to take away just your IBHUs. They’re right in that they say the real weapon is you all, not the arm. So, they want to make sure that we can’t just recommission the IBHUs, arm you, and send you on your way.

“So, what they want—what they are demanding—is that all vestiges of augments are removed from each of you. They want it impossible for you to use your IBHUs.”

There was a louder gasp and protests. The general waited for it to die down.

“I know how dangerous that will be for most of you. And the commandant is fighting it tooth and nail.”

“The director prime isn’t going to allow that to happen, right?” Kelly asked.

“It isn’t her. The pressure is coming from Titan. We’re pushing back, of course. So’s Tau Ceti and the Mad Dogs. Rigel, too.”

Rev didn’t think removing the Rangers’ hyper-augments would even be possible.

“Why the hell is Titan bowing to the crazies on this?” Captain White Eagle asked.

The general sighed again, this time slumping his shoulders ever-so-slightly. “I’m not privy to any of this. But if you want my opinion . . . and I’ll deny I ever said this . . . they think the decommissioning, I’ll call it, of you and whatever karnans, Rangers, and navigators are left is a reasonable sacrifice to keep the peace.”

Rev was gobsmacked. A “reasonable sacrifice?”

The Marines erupted in anger, and the general held up a hand until they quieted down.

“The galaxy is dicey right now. We’re still working with the allies, but there’s already heavy-duty posturing. Once the final nest of Naxli is exterminated, Intel thinks that there is going to be a fracture in the alliance as every race fends for itself. The scorps are a likely strategic adversary.”

Rev grunted. If he was wondering about the general, “strategic adversary” instead of “enemy” reminded him that despite the uniform, generals were still political creatures for the most part.

“The clickers, too,” he continued. “Worst case basis is that the galaxy goes into a free-for-all. And if that happens, all of humankind needs to be united. We can’t have internal strife, not if we want to emerge from the chaos in one piece.”

Rev stood up. “With all due respect, sir. That’s bullshit. There’s gonna be strife no matter what. And killing us by trying to neuter us, as you called it, well, that’s not gonna change anything. Not one bit. I don’t care if there are only forty-three of us left overall. I’m not gonna just march into the operating room to die.”

“First Sergeant, you’re IBHU Number One. Trying to remove your hyper-augments would be a death sentence, as you put it. We could remove a few, like your battle buddies, but the rest would kill you.”

Rev blanched at “battle buddies.” Yes, that asshole on the program had mentioned them, but Rev hadn’t really thought of losing Punch. And now, that scared him.

“So, we’re not going to do that. And that’s why I’m here. The Corps has come up with a solution. At least, we think it is one. But all the cards have to fall in place, and it has to happen quickly.”

Every Marine leaned forward, intent on what he was going to say.

“You can’t have your augments removed if you’re not here.”

What?

“We want to send you on a mission.”

“That will just kick the can down the road, sir,” the captain said. “When we come back, we’ll face the same issue.”

The general just stared at the captain, saying nothing. And then it hit Rev.

“You mean an indefinite mission,” he said in awe at the audacity of the idea.

The general nodded.

There was a moment of shocked silence, then an outbreak of protests.

“What about my family?” Horseman, one of the newer IBHUs asked. “My wife is seven months pregnant.”

The general held up his hand to quiet them down again.

“This is the only way we think we can keep you alive.”

“You can tell Titan to pound sand,” Kelly said. “Sir.”

“The Union isn’t going to do that, Gunny. We’re not going to war with the CoH over this. And the commandant is having enough of a problem just getting this approved. Which is another reason we need to get this going now. There is enough resistance that this could come crashing down before it kicks off.”

“What kind of timeline are we looking at, sir?” Captain White Eagle asked.

“Eleven days.”

Eleven? Rev hadn’t even accepted that this was happening, and now it was in just eleven days?

“That’s a little short to put something like this together,” the captain said.

“It’s been over a month in planning. And we’ve been in contact, through back channels, with the MDS, Tau Ceti, and Rigel. They’re aboard. Sorry we couldn’t clue you in earlier, but . . .”

But you didn’t trust us. It would have been nice to know to get our affairs in order. Oh, shit, what’s Miko going to say?

That should have been Rev’s first thought, but he was in something of a state of shock at the moment, and his brain was like mush.

“Is Titan going to go along with this?” Cocker asked. “It seems like a big ask.”

“We’re not asking, Sergeant. We’re doing. Oh, once you’re underway, we’ll sell it as a way to get the upper hand in the post-nox galaxy.”

“What’s our official mission?” she continued. “What will we be doing?”

“My chief of staff had something good here. There was an ancient 2D television show about a fictional spaceship and such. I don’t remember quite what it was about. But she said the ship’s crew’s mission was . . . let me see if I can get it right from my battle buddy . . . ‘to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no man has gone before.’

“At least, that’s how we’re selling it. We don’t even know all of the other races in the galaxy, so maybe it would be good to make contact and learn what we can about them. So far, we only know a few of the races, and not much about any of them.”

“What if I don’t want to go? What if I want to take my chances and get my augments removed?”

“Corporal Horseman, right? You got your hyper-augments seventeen months ago, right?”

Despite the situation, Rev was impressed that the general knew that.

“Yes, sir.”

“You might have a possibility of success. If you want to risk the procedures, we’ll get a medical evaluation then brief you on your chances. I can’t say for sure, but if you want to risk it and the docs give you a better than even chance, I’ll endorse the request.”

What about Miko and me?

Rev knew he was going. No need to ask. But who else was on the mission? Forty-whatever IBHU Marines weren’t going to be gallivanting around the galaxy on their own.

“Who else will be going, sir? There’s not enough of us, nor do we have the skill to operate a ship.”

“We’re going to ask for volunteers five days before departure. The reason the mission was created was because of you, but the mission itself is real. And vital, I might add. You’ll be the security force, but there will be other mission-vital billets that need to be filled. And a full ship’s complement.”

The general went on longer in that vein, but Rev was so relieved that he tuned the man out.

All he cared about now was that Tomiko could come.

34

“What???”

“They turned me down,” Tomiko said, her voice hard with anger. “Because I’m a resurrectee.”

“That’s bullshit!” Rev shouted as he jumped up from his desk. “I’ll go talk to the colonel.”

“I already did. He called the general, who called someone else, who said no.”

“What about General Echo. He’ll take my call.”

General Jack O. Echo was an ex-commandant. He was the one who’d labeled Rev the Nexus of Chaos. Rev hadn’t spoken to him in years, but he hoped he’d still at least consider helping them.

But then another thought hit him.

“What if we’re married?”

The wedding, which had been planned for twenty-two days from now, was off. But a quick trip to the chaplain’s office, then to admin, and they could be man and wife.

“I asked. They said it won’t matter.”

Which was probably true. Several of the IBHUs were married and had families, but they’d been too long an IBHU to risk the reversal procedure.

Three, including Horseman, were being given the chance. The rest, even the ones still going through resurrection therapy, were on the mission.

It had only been two days since they’d gotten the news, and it still hadn’t sunk in. And now, this blow was a slap in the face.

The general had said they’d seek volunteers five days out. That hadn’t lasted. Word leaked, and people were already raising their hands. Rev would be angry about that, but he was guilty, too. He’d told Tomiko within an hour after the general left, and she’d had her interview that morning.

“I’m calling General Echo. Then I’ll . . . I’ll . . . I’ll do whatever it takes.” He grabbed Tomiko by the shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix this!”

“Rev, you can’t. I’m a resurrectee.”

“Other resurrectees are coming. Fifteen of them.”

“Who are already IBHUs. They’re the reason this mission was created. I’m not an IBHU, so I don’t qualify.”

“The hell you don’t. I’m going to take care of it.”

“REV! Shut the hell up? You’re a damn first sergeant, not the commandant of the fucking Marine Corps. There’s nothing you can do,” she said, halfway between screaming and sobbing.

“Miko, don’t give up,” he said, trying to pull her into his arms.

But she jerked away. “Leave me alone, Rev,” she shouted. And just like that, she bolted from the office.

Rev stood there dumbfounded. He felt like he’d been kicked by a mule. The righteous anger he’d felt, the commitment to call up an ex-commandant as if that would do anything, had faded.

He’d see what he could do, but she was right. She wasn’t an IBHU, which was the only way she’d be assigned to the mission as a resurrectee.

There had to be a way. Only he didn’t know how.

He left the office. Tomiko was nowhere in sight.

“I’m leaving for a while,” he told Delacruz. “You know how to get a hold of me.”

He left the office, took two steps, then stopped, turned, and leaned up against the bulkhead. Sobs erupted from deep within his soul. He was being torn apart.

<You can’t do anything standing here, Rev. You need to try.>

Rev took five deep breaths as he struggled for control. Punch was right. He couldn’t surrender.

Come hell or high water, Rev was going to find a way for them to stay together.

* * *

<There is a large margin of error due to the low numbers of similar procedures, but you’d have a four percent chance of survival.>

“That’s it? Four percent?”

<Plus or minus approximately three percent.>

“So, it could be one percent or seven percent, right?”

<From a purely statistical standpoint, yes.>

Either way, those weren’t good odds. But the fact that he was considering it—if they would even agree to attempt the procedure, was proof enough of how desperate he was. He’d even gone as far as making the trek to division headquarters and talking the staff secretary into giving him General Echo’s number.

The ex-commandant had commiserated with him, but he couldn’t offer any succor. He didn’t have any authority, and Rev realized after only a minute that while he thought the man cared, he wasn’t going to try and step in, given the importance of what was being attempted.

“What are we gonna do, Punch?”

<Coming up with options in a situation like this is where the human brain outshines a crystal one.>

“But don’t you have like a million cases in history that you can pull from?”

<There are surprisingly few, and I’m not sure how any of those could offer insight.>

Rev had gone beyond anger. He’d gone beyond frustration. And now he was simply numb. In nine days he’d be boarding his ship while Tomiko stayed behind. All their plans had been shot. They’d always known that given their jobs, there had been a good chance that one or both might not survive to fulfill their dreams together. But he never envisioned it going down like this.

It wasn’t the enemy from without that was going to torpedo them. It was the enemy within.

To top it off, he couldn’t reach her. Her wristcomp was on ignore. Wherever she was, she wasn’t answering his calls.

His own wristcomp buzzed, and he jumped to answer, but it wasn’t her.

“Yes, sir?”

“I need you to come to the office for a moment.”

The captain was losing it, in Rev’s opinion. When you were going to be gone forever, it was easy to second-guess the load out. The last thing he needed was the captain throwing yet another task on him.

But he was at a loss to figure out what to try next, so he said, “I’m on my way. I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Thirty minutes? Where are you at?”

“I’m on mainside. I, uh, I had some errands to run.”

“Not a great time for that, First Sergeant. But OK, get back when you can.”

A tram arrived within twenty seconds of him reaching the stop, so it was closer to twenty minutes when he rapped on the sill of the company commander’s door and stepped inside.

“Ah, First Sergeant. In a sea of crap, I’ve got some good news for you.”

Rev’s heart leaped for joy. “About Gunny Reiser?” he asked.

“Reiser? No. Oh, about her request. No, I don’t have anything new on that.”

The joy crashed, and resignation set in. “What do you have for me then, sir?”

“Well, Sergeant Major-select . . .”

“Sir?”

Rev had been a first sergeant for less than a year. He had a long way to go before he was eligible for sergeant major.

“The powers that be decided that as the senior enlisted assigned to the mission, you need to be deep-selected for sergeant major.”

Rev just grunted. He’d wanted to be a sergeant major, of course, but at the moment, it was the furthest thing from his mind.

“That’s it? I thought you’d take this with a little more enthusiasm.”

“Oh, no, sir. I’m just a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“We all are, First Sergeant. And as of Thursday, that will be Sergeant Major Pelletier.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“You don’t want to ask me?” the captain prompted.

“Ask you what, sir?”

The captain rolled his eyes. “OK, since you asked. As the ground element commander, I’ve been deep-selected for major, too.”

The major-select was grinning like a schoolboy who’d just scored his first kiss.

“Oh, congrats, sir.”

“Don’t be too enthused,” he said with a scowl. “OK, get back to what you were doing. Time’s getting shorter.”

You’ve got that right.

Rev turned to go when the captain said, “Oh, and your buddy? Major Bundy? He’s getting bumped to lieutenant colonel, and he’s coming along.”

Rev stopped in his tracks and turned back to his commander. “Major Bundy? He’s coming?”

“That’s what I was told.”

“But he’s got family here.”

Bundy was old for a Marine, and he had grown children and four or five grandchildren. His wife had died just prior to him enlisting so many years before, but he was on good terms with his kids, as far as Rev knew.

Why would he be volunteering for the one-way mission?

“I don’t know. Only that he’ll be the senior Marine. I’ll be acting XO and ground force commander. Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know.”

Rev hadn’t seen much of Bundy lately, and he hadn’t expected his friend to volunteer. For a moment, he considered tracking him down to plead for Tomiko, but he knew he’d just be spinning his wheels.

He tried to come up with another plan when his wristcomp buzzed again. It was high-priority, coming from Yancey.

“What is it, Yance?”

“Get down to the ER, Rev. Now. Miko’s been in an accident.”

Rev never replied as he accelerated into a full-out sprint.

* * *

“How did it happen?” Rev asked the nurse.

Tomiko was lying on the bed, unconscious. Her face was bruised, but the big thing was what was on her right side. Or, more specifically, what wasn’t there.

“From what we were told, she sideswiped a utility pole. She was lucky. If she’d hit it head-on at the speeds she was traveling, things could be a lot worse.”

“But her arm?”

“She must have had the window open and her arm out. It tore clear off, but the tear was clean. The arm itself was recovered, but it is really a little too smashed to reattach, so I think they’ll graft and grow a new one for her. Give her eighteen months, and she’ll be as good as new.”

Eighteen months here on Safe Harbor while I’ll be who knows where.

Rev stepped up closer and held her left hand. Normally, he wouldn’t be allowed there, but he used his rank, notoriety, and the fact that she was still his fiancée to be allowed to scrub in, don scrubs, and get to her bedside.

“She’ll be slowly coming around over the next ten minutes so we can do a few more tests. If she asks for water, you can give her a few of those ice chips,” the nurse said, pointing to a small thermos on the table alongside the bed. “And if you can give me a shout, that would be great. After the tests, we’ll prep her for transport to Anastasia.”

The naval hospital at Anastasia had been one of the priority rebuilding projects after the Naxli invasion. They were still working on it, but most of the wards were operational. Here at the still-temporary Camp Nguyen clinic, there were basic sick call wards and the ER, but if anything else of long term was needed, the patient had to be transported to the naval hospital.

Once she was gone, Rev might not see her again. He’d try to make it over, but without the maglev operational, it might be out of the question.

“Miko, Miko, Miko,” he muttered. “What did you do to yourself?”

She must have been so upset that she lost control. Signing out a staff hover, then speeding along the roads to the Bravo training areas in manual mode? What was she thinking?

“If there was any chance of you coming with me, you took care of that, babe. It’s over.”

This was the nail in the coffin. Rev knew now that he had maybe a few hours with her left. That was it. They’d both go ahead with their lives but along separate paths.

His wristcomp buzzed. It was the skipper again. Rev ignored it. He was going to be there when she woke, and he’d stay until she was on her way.

“I guess we’ve got something in common now,” he said with a humorless chuckle.

She didn’t have a prosthesis, of course, but he clinked his prosthetic arm against the rail along her right side. “Sibs in steel, Miko.”

She’d always been jealous of Pashu. In another place and time, she might have gotten an IBHU. Or maybe not. Being resurrected carried a lot of limitations. But that was moot. There were no more IBHUs being fitted to candidates.

Tomiko groaned, and Rev leaned over her. Slowly, her eyes fluttered, then opened. It took them a moment to focus on him.

“Miko!”

“Water,” she croaked.

Rev almost knocked over the thermos in his haste to get the chips. Then he fumbled with the latch, and when he finally managed to get it open, several chips fell to the floor. Finally, he had a few chips, which he carefully fed to her.

He knew he should go get the nurse, but he wanted to extend the time he had alone with her. There wouldn’t be much more of it.

She shook her head after the fourth chip.

“Miko, what did you do to yourself?” Rev asked, gently stroking her head.

“Arm?”

Rev didn’t know if he was the one to tell her, but she asked. “I’m sorry. It’s gone.”

There was no reaction. If anything, could there be the slightest hint of a smile?

She’s in shock.

“The nurse said they’ll start growing a new one at the Naval Hospital. Eighteen months, and you’ll be good as new.”

He didn’t bother to say that would be eighteen months without him.

“First Sergeant, I asked you to get me when she woke. We’ve got a lot of tests to do before the transport is here. And we can’t be late. The surgical team will be waiting.”

“Sorry, ma’am. She just woke up and asked for water. I was going to get you in a moment.”

“Well, OK. But I’m going to need the space there. Say your goodbyes for now.”

No! “Now” meant forever.

He turned to Tomiko, almost in a panic, but she was calm. Their pending separation didn’t seem to bother her.

She raised her left hand and beckoned him closer. Rev leaned in.

“IBHU,” she whispered.

“Miko. There’re no more IBHUs.”

Only there were a handful. But no new fitting procedures.

“Just do it, Rev. I know you can.”

“First Sergeant? If I may?” the nurse said as she waited with one of the testing consoles.

Rev automatically stepped back to give her room, and she slipped between Tomiko and him.

Rev looked over the nurse’s shoulder as she pulled out the first scanner wand. Tomiko nodded at him and mouthed, “IBHU” once more, with a look of utter trust on her face.

* * *

“So, she purposely took off her arm?” Strap asked.

“It looks like that,” Rev said.

“Man, she’s got big balls,” Strap said, his voice full of respect.

“And that’s new to you?” Kelly asked.

“OK, OK. She’s a badass. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we’re short of time.”

“And a way to somehow get her an IBHU. This isn’t like issuing her an M-51,” Yancey said.

“Then let’s figure out a plan,” Rev said. “Focus. First, do we have any unattached IBHUs here?”

“I’ve got the armory queens,” Daryll said.

If they were going to somehow pull this off, Rev knew he had to ask the Sieben rep to join them.

“Will they work?” Rev asked.

An “armory queen” was an IBHU that was kept around to scavenge parts from. Having the right part on hand could make the difference between getting another IBHU back up and combat-ready in hours vice waiting for a new part to be shipped.

The logistics command hated armory or hanger queens. It messed up their record-keeping. But every tech or repair shop had them.

“I can probably put one together. It might not be the best unit around.”

“That doesn’t matter. We just have to say that Miko’s an IBHU,” Kelly said.

Rev was the most anxious to somehow pull this off, but Kelly was a close second.

“I do have another option. I still have Bhatt’s IBHU.”

“Respect for the fallen,” the Marines said in unison.

Lance Corporal Bhatt had fallen at the Naxli station. Rev was surprised that her IBHU was still in the armory, but then again, he’d never really wondered what happened to one after the Marine who carried it was killed.

“And it works?” he asked.

“It’s in perfect working condition. It wasn’t hit.”

It almost seemed improper for Tomiko to inherit a dead woman’s IBHU, but Bhatt was beyond caring. And if that could get Miko on the mission . . .

“And it can be synched to her after being synched to Bhatt?”

“It will take a number of sessions, but yes, I can do it.”

“Daryll, we don’t have time for that.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Daryll, we leave in nine days. Eight now,” Rev said.

“And I’ll be leaving with you.”

Everyone turned to the tech in surprise.

“I agreed this afternoon.”

“But why?” Yancey asked. “This is forever.”

Daryll shrugged. “What else am I going to do? I’ve spent the last how many years dealing with IBHUs? What else do I know? And all of the working ones are going with you guys. Ergo . . .”

“But your family. Your father.”

“Eh, this lets me get out from under his shadow. Besides, he said I should jump at the chance.”

Daryll’s father was retired Lieutenant General Begay. Rev always thought that the tech resented getting his first job with Sieben because the company was buttering up to the general.

Whatever the reason, Rev was glad Daryll was on board. He’d downloaded manuals and recordings on how to maintain an IBHU, but this made it so much easier.

“OK, we’ve got an IBHU. But now for the hard part. Miko’s at Anastasia.”

“Which is where the implant facility is,” Daryll reminded Rev.

“True. That’s one good thing. But how do we get them there to hook her up? We can’t just ask them politely to install a collar, much less the other augments.”

“We can’t ask them, but we can force them,” Kelly said.

“What do you mean?” Rev asked.

“She means we lock and load and give the team there an ultimatum,” Tsao said as she and Kelly high-fived. The Platinum Nova holder had been sitting quietly for most of the discussion.

I guess when she does talk, she makes it count.

He might have expected the bloodthirsty attitude from Randigold or Kelly, but not Tsao.

“What, you’re saying that we go don our IBHUs, then get to the hospital, march in, and force the team there to hook her up?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” Kelly said. “Do you have a better idea?”

Rev opened his mouth to argue, but then he stopped.

“No, I don’t have a better idea.”

He knew this wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing, and he shouldn’t be dragging in the rest of them. But he didn’t see any other way to get around the problem.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” he told Punch.

<I can. It’s very much in line with who you are. You do what you think is right no matter the consequences, and you are not quite the honest man Tomiko said she wanted to make you.>

Rev didn’t think that was an accurate assessment. This wasn’t about being honest but doing what was right. It didn’t matter, though. He was going to take the step.

He looked around at the others. “Are we all on board with this?”

Everyone nodded.

“Strap?”

“They’re not putting us in the brig. So, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“They can drop you from the mission. You’re barely back from rehab, so it wouldn’t be hard. What about you, Yance?”

“Miko’s my posse. I’m in.”

“But you’re not coming with us. They can put you in the brig.”

Yancey shrugged. “If they do, they do.”

Rev looked at each of them in turn, waiting for a nod.

“OK, then. It’s almost one. I want to do this as soon as the installation team arrives for work so they have all day. That gives us five hours to get ready and an hour to get there. So, let’s come up with a plan, and it better be a good one.”

35

Rev, Tsao, Kelly, Randigold, and Cocker followed Daryll to the armory, trying to act as if this was a routine visit. Daryll nodded at the guard, who smiled and let him pass. But when Rev tried, the guard stepped in front of him.

“Sorry, First Sergeant, but you’re not allowed inside.”

“It’s OK, lance corporal. I need them to synch their IBHUs, so I can close them down. They’ll only be ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Sorry, Mr. Begay. You can go in, but the azris can’t. No disrespect, First Sergeant,” the guard added.

They didn’t have time for a guard doing his duty. Rev flicked his wrist, and the other three spread out around the Marine. The guard put his hand on the sidearm in the holster at his side.

None of them were armed with their IBHUs, but they still had the hyper-augments. They were quicker and stronger than the guard. He might be able to get one of them, but Rev put the odds against it.

Daryll just watched the drama unfold.

The Marine tensed, and his hand crept closer to his holster latch.

“You sure you want to do this?” Rev asked.

He hesitated, then his face relaxed, and he dropped his hand. “Ah, hell. You just go inside. They’ve done you dirty.”

The four IBHUs relaxed as well, and Rev nodded to Daryll, who scanned into the door. As they started to troop inside, Rev stopped.

“You want us to take you hostage?” he asked.

The Marine’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, First Sergeant. That might be good.”

“What’s your name, son?”

“Roggert, First Sergeant. Jee Roggert.”

“Well, Lance Corporal Roggert, you’re doing the right thing. Thanks.”

Daryll went straight to the controls, and a moment later, the conveyor was moving. Rev’s heart leaped when he saw Pashu roll into view. He stepped back into the loading cradle and the arms brought his IBHU to his shoulder. With a soft snick, he was connected.

“Run a status check,” he told Punch as he stepped away from the cradle.

He rotated his IBHU, then put it through a number of gyrations. She felt wonderful!

<All systems green. Your IBHU is in working order.>

“Can I, you know, touch it?” Roggert asked.

Rev extended Pashu, and the lance corporal tentatively reached out, and as light as dandelion fluff floating in the breeze, touched the barrel.

“Uber-cool,” he said almost reverently.

Tsao had her IBHU, and while Randigold stepped into the cradle, Daryll reached under one of the workbenches and pulled out a case of twenty-millimeter cannon ammo.

He pulled out a belt and gave Rev a raised eyebrow question.

“We’re not going to shoot anybody,” Rev said.

“No, but you need to look like you will.”

“Good point. But what are you doing with ammo in an armory? Never the twain shall meet in here.”

“So, sue me. Do you want it or not?” Daryll asked.

No matter what happened, Rev was not going to use deadly force against a fellow human on this mission. But appearances matter. He nodded, and Daryll counted off about fifty rounds, then tore the belt. He inserted one end into the chamber, then stuffed the other end into the magazine and closed it.

Fifty rounds weren’t much, but with the magazine lid closed, no one could tell just how many rounds he actually had.

Micky Cocker stepped up to get her IBHU, when Daryll said, “I think that’s Staff Sergeant Gantz coming up.”

Rev looked at the security feed. But instead of a truck, Strap and Yancey had commandeered an ambulance.

“I hope we fit,” he said more to himself than anyone else.

Kelly, Randigold, and Tsao got their ammo, and as soon as Cocker got hers, Rev had them moving outside, but not before he thanked Roggert again.

“Where’d you get this?” Rev asked Strap.

The staff sergeant shrugged. “The opportunity arose, and I thought it might blend in better.”

That was true, but he wasn’t sure that the back had enough room. After they all clambered aboard, though, he realized that while it was tight, this was a much better choice. No one should give them a second glance as they pulled up to the hospital.

Rev hit the back of the cab, and they took off. They passed through the gate without a problem. Security was for people coming in, not going out.

The trip to Anastasia was uneventful. Rev spent most of the time going over the plan with the others, but as they reached the edge of the city, the Marines and Daryll fell into silence, lost in their thoughts. Traffic was building with the morning commute. Despite much of the city being still in rubble, the work routine had quickly settled back in. They reached the hospital about fifteen minutes later than Rev had planned, but there was lots of slack built into the timeline.

Strap and Yancey came to the back of the ambulance with a set of EMT overalls for Daryll. He donned them, and the three took off, leaving the IBHU Marines in the back.

“Ten minutes,” Rev told the others.

“What am I forgetting?” he asked Punch.

<If you remember, tell me. But right now, your pulse is racing. How about a joke to calm you down?>

Punch hadn’t told Rev a joke in ages, and to his surprise, Rev missed the dumb things.

“Go ahead.”

<Why do ambulance drivers always have another person with them?”>

“To work on the patients,” he answered with a knee-jerk response.

Punch didn’t respond to that. Rev had to admit it wasn’t even funny. It was just the first thing that came to his mind.

“OK, why?”

<They’re a pair-a-medics.>

It took a moment, but Rev groaned. Cocker turned to look at him with concern on her face. He waved her off.

“Three months without a joke, and that’s what you come up with?”

<I know you liked it. You forget, I can read all your vitals. How about the man who found a broken-down ambulance, and when he opened the back, he found a dismembered foot there?>

That was a little out of Punch’s normal pattern, but Rev prompted, “And . . . ?”

<He had to call a toe-truck.>

Rev groaned again, and Cocker leaned over, put her hand on his, and said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure Gunny Reiser’s OK. We’ll get her through this.”

Rev didn’t bother to correct her misconception as to why he’d groaned. And Punch didn’t stop. One joke after the other, and each one worse than the one before.

And then it was time. Instead of stewing over what was about to happen, instead of getting stressed, Rev was in a good state of mind. His battle buddy had taken care of that.

With a renewed sense of confidence and determination, Rev gave the signal, and the five IBHU Marines poured out of the back of the ambulance. The sun wasn’t quite at the horizon, but the sky was that gray predawn, with a rose and peach tint on the horizon.

Rev barely noted the colors. He was focused on the mission, his eyes locked on the ER entrance. As with all of his battles, his warrior self was stirring, ready to meet the enemy.

That probably wasn’t appropriate, but Rev retained just enough of that battle mindset, hoping it would show through and deter anyone from getting in their way.

“Wristcomps off,” he told the others.

It was a little thing, given the scope of what they were going to do. But he didn’t want to be ordered to stand down and then have to disobey that command. That would mean one less charge at the court martial.

“Let’s do it,” he said as the five Marines spread out and jogged to the double doors. Someone started to enter, spotted the IBHUs, and then quickly reversed direction and made themselves scarce.

A civilian guard was just inside the door. He spotted Rev and stepped forward to confront him when the rest came through as well.

He stopped dead in his tracks, said, “They don’t pay me enough for this,” and retreated against the far wall.

They weren’t interested in the ER. People jumped up and scrambled to get out of the way. And while Rev didn’t purposefully aim Pashu at anyone in particular, he held her at the ready. No one mistook that for anything but a willingness to use her against anyone who would try to stop them.

They passed reception, went through the doors leading into the rest of the hospital, and jogged forty meters down the main corridor. People tried to melt into the walls to get out of the way.

“There’s nothing to fear. Just stay out of the way,” Rev shouted, trying to calm them down.

The cowering people didn’t seem to take his words at face value.

The IBHU Marines ran past an elevator just as a door opened. Several people started to get out, spotted them, and jumped back in as they frantically hit the door-close button.

Rev ignored them. The Marines could take the elevator, but that would make it too easy for security to trap them.

“This is it,” Rev said.

There wasn’t a sign above the door, but Rev knew what was on the other side. They passed through and started to descend the stairs. Rev almost bounded down the steps, craning his head to see forward. And as he reached the bottom, the most welcome sight in the galaxy was there. Daryll, Strap, and Yancey, all in their EMT overalls, were there, seemingly arguing with someone in a white lab coat. Between Strap and Yancey was a gurney, and the most beautiful woman in the galaxy was lying on it.

She looked groggy. The three would have retrieved her from the recovery room, so her surgery had probably only ended two or maybe three hours ago.

Groggy or not, she spotted the IBHU Marines, and a huge smile broke out across her face. Rev rushed up to her. At the sound of his footsteps, the lab-coated individual turned around and squeaked at the apparitions rushing him.

“I knew you would come,” she said. “I just didn’t know you’d bring the entire company.”

Rev leaned over to give her a kiss, then turned to the tech. “Which is the IBHU procedural suite?”

The man raised a shaky hand and pointed to the third door.

“Seal this off,” he told Randigold and Cocker. “No one goes out. If a doctor comes, let them in, though.”

“Got it, First Sergeant,” Randigold said.

“Go find the doctor,” he told Strap.

“Uh, sir? We don’t use a doctor here,” the tech said in a squeaky voice.

Rev didn’t remember who’d done his collar. He was sure it was a doctor, but maybe things had changed.

“Who handles the collars?” he snapped.

“The chief tech, sir.”

“And where’s he or she?”

The tech pointed at the same door.

“Let’s go.”

Rev took the point, leaving Yancey to wheel in Tomiko. He burst through the door, Pashu at the ready. The procedure suite wasn’t that much different than the one where Rev had been fitted for his first IBHU. The machinery looked more compact, but it all resembled what he’d seen before.

Two more people in lab coats had a panel on one of the machines open and were peering inside.

The woman turned at their entrance and asked, “Can I help you?”

She ignored their three IBHUs as if this were an everyday occurrence.

“Which one of you is the chief tech?” Rev asked, waving Pashu in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

“That would be me. And you would be . . . ?”

“It doesn’t matter who I am. What matters is your choice in the next few seconds. I want you to implant a collar.”

“As you seem to have a perfectly functioning one, am I to assume that this would be for the woman on the gurney?”

Rev almost snapped that it wasn’t any of her business, but it was if she was going to do the procedure.

Rev nodded.

“And why am I going to give that woman a collar? The program has been shut down, as you surely know. We’re just going through the mount-out procedures.”

Rev wasn’t going to argue with the woman. “Because if you don’t, I’ll shoot you and go to the next one in command.”

The man standing beside the chief tech paled and swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bouncing up and down like a pogo stick.

“Oh, you’re not going to shoot me, so let’s do away with the theatrics.”

Rev’s mouth gaped open and shut a few times. He’d been counting on bluster to force the woman to perform the procedure, but she didn’t seem cowed by him in the slightest.

She walked past Rev, using her hand to tip Pashu up and out of the way. Tomiko raised herself to her elbow and stared at the chief tech.

The woman looked at Tomiko’s shoulder, and for the first time, she faltered the tiniest bit.

“That surgical wound isn’t even closed yet. When was it done?”

“About three hours ago,” Tomiko said.

“You do know we wait at least three months before we start the procedures, right?”

“Well, you’ve got the three hours today,” Rev said, trying to reassert himself as being the one in charge here.

The woman bent over to get a better look. “Clean surgery, but the underlying damage is pushing the envelope. What happened to cause the initial injury?”

“Hover accident. Hit a utility pole.”

Rev winced at “accident.” He knew it wasn’t an accident. Tomiko had planned it.

The tech prodded the wound. For someone who wasn’t a doctor, she had the same attitude as many of those Rev knew. Arrogance—what some people might just call confidence. But somewhat impersonal. To her, Tomiko’s stump was something to conquer, not necessarily something that carried a greater meaning to the patient.

“I don’t know if we can get it cleared, but it would be good to get back to doing our job before we close shop for good. One more time into the breach and all. I can hop you up with some specialized nanobots that can prep the site. Then, if corporate gets the OK, we can do the collar next Friday, if that works for you.”

“No, it doesn’t. This will be done today.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

The male tech touched her shoulder, then leaned into the ear and whispered so quietly that even Rev’s augmented hearing couldn’t make out the words.

“Really?” the chief tech said before turning around to take in Rev and the other’s IBHUs and seemingly putting two and two together.

“I guess I see why that won’t work. Well, if we can get clearance from corporate, then I think I can work with today, though. It will take some effort to program the surgical bot, but with a cut that clean, it’s doable. Then, next week we can start on the infrastructure.”

“That won’t work,” Rev said. “Everything will be done today.”

“Of course, you were going to say that, too. You know, you can’t just come in here waving your IBHUs and do away with reality. But . . . this would be an interesting undertaking, and I do so love a challenge.”

She stopped for a moment, and Rev could see the gears turning in her mind.

“What about Dr. Chakrabarti? Is she going to give the OK?” the male tech asked.

“Screw corporate. And Chakrabarti would jump at the chance. All of this in one day? No one’s done that. The data alone would be valuable. And no repercussions from the authorities. We’re afraid of the big bad azris with their IBHUs pointed at our heads.”

She leaned into the other tech and started a conversation. Rev could pick up the words with his augmented hearing, but he didn’t understand most of the terminology. The chief tech seemed excited at the prospect. The other tech was decidedly less so.

Finally, she turned back to Tomiko and said, “I can get the collar on and start the initial syncing. I can get to some of the support hyper-augments. But there is no way I can get all of them in by today. There’s a reason things have to be done on a certain timeline. If you want the complete package, you’ll have to come back again.”

Tomiko looked to Rev. Anything was better than nothing. All they really had to do was to get the command to agree that she was an IBHU. Everything else could be addressed later.

It was up to her, of course, but he wanted to let Tomiko know he was for it. He nodded, and she told the chief tech, “Do it.”

“Get one of the collars, Grant.”

“But—”

“Unless you want this azri to shoot you. I wasn’t kidding about that part.”

The man’s face went ashen, and he hurried off. The woman rolled her eyes.

“He’s really good at his job, despite his tendency to believe whatever I tell him.”

Rev hoped the man was competent. He had more confidence in the woman . . .

“What’s your name?” Rev asked.

“Julie Matarama. What’s yours?”

There was no reason to play coy. “Reverent Pelletier.”

“Ah, I recognize the name. And now, together with what Grant reminded me, it’s all falling into place and why the rush.”

You’d think the IBHUs would have clued her in the moment we got here.

“And you are?” she asked Tomiko.

“Tomiko Reiser.”

“Well, Tomiko Reiser, let’s get going. I need to run some scans and prep you. Then you’ll hang out for a couple of hours, so I figure that we’ll do the collar at around 9:45 and then start on your hyper-augments.”

“Why wait two hours? Why not start right away?” Rev asked.

“Because we need to deactivate her blockers and then wait the two hours for the nanobots to clean her system. Otherwise, the entire first synching will be useless. So, unless you want to stand here and gab?”

“No, you go ahead.”

The male tech—Grant, the woman called him—returned with a package, probably the collar, and started the first scanner. Julie monitored the numbers.

Randigold stuck her head inside the room. “First Sergeant, we’ve got company.”

“What and how many?”

“Civilian jimmylegs. About a dozen. Armed. Five city cops.”

“Kelly, Tum. Take it. Remember, tell them that no one’s in danger, and if they mind their manners, we’ll be leaving without anyone getting hurt.”

Kelly seemed like she was about to argue, but she had second thoughts and left.

A few minutes later Julie told Tomiko, “We’ve got the necessary data. I’ll program the bot and try to prioritize the augments. Why don’t you go into the recovery room and relax? The calmer you are during the procedure, the more connections will be made, and that will help in the long run.

Rev wanted to stay in the room with the chief tech, but he had to trust her at some time. She said he’d have shot her if he was going to. Her arguments worked the other way as well. If she was going to turn them in, she’d have already done so.

But with the civilian jimmylegs and the local cops already here, who was she going to report them, too?

“The recovery room?”

Julie pointed to a door at the end of the suite. Rev checked it out. It looked like any other ward room. There was a bed and a side table, a Spartan-looking couch, and a 2D screen. It would be a little more comfortable and let Tomiko rest up a little easier.

He went back to her gurney and, with Daryll, began to push it, when she stopped him.

“I can walk.”

She started to slide off, and Rev stopped her. “Your arm.”

“I don’t know about you, but I use my legs to walk, Rev. And I need to clear my head.”

Daryll said he was going to stay in the suite and watch the two techs. Tomiko was unsteady, and she took Rev’s arm, but they walked to the door as Julie and Grant started on the equipment. Tomiko paused at the door and surveyed the room.

“Wait a minute,” she said.

She suddenly looked nervous.

“It’ll be OK, Miko. This is gonna work.”

“I know. But . . .”

“But what?”

She turned to him. “The wedding’s off.”

Of course, the wedding’s off. We’ll be gone before then.

“We can get married on the ship.”

“I want . . . if something goes wrong here—you know, if they stop us, or if this doesn’t work—I want us to be married. I kept delaying this, waiting for the right time, for the big ceremony, when all that really matters is you and me.”

Rev gave a forced laugh and tried to make a joke of it. “That’s the surgery drugs talking. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m serious, Rev. Let’s do it. It’s almost all I’ve been thinking of since I came out of surgery. If things don’t go right, I want to be married. I want it official.”

Rev looked around the room. “Here? Now?”

“It doesn’t matter where, Rev. Just get a chaplain here, and we can do it while we wait.”

Rev had always been willing to get married earlier, no matter their deployment schedules. He didn’t need to wait for the “right time.” But this seemed like the wrong time.

He looked into Tomiko’s eyes, and he saw her determination, but coupled with fear. If this was what she wanted, then who was he to balk?

He gave another awkward laugh and said, “You sure know how to be romantic.”

He helped her to the couch, then exited the suite. The Sieben staff had vacated the reception area. Kelly and the rest were standing at the doors. On the other side were at least a dozen jimmylegs, several civilian cops, and three Navy MPs. Behind them, Rev could see some curious onlookers.

Probably hanging around to see a shootout.

Kelly saw Rev and asked, “Is everything OK?”

“We’re getting married.”

Her eyes got bigger, but she didn’t say anything.

Rev opened the door.

Immediately, one of the MPs said, “First Sergeant Pelletier, we need to talk.”

He gave a wry smile. Of course, they knew who he was by now.

“We don’t want anyone to get hurt here,” Rev said. “So, you stay on this side of the door, and we’ll stay on the other side until we’re done.”

“What exactly are you doing in there? Are Ms. Matarama and Mr. Joyce OK?”

“They’re fine. As to what we’re doing? That’s our business. But I have a demand. I want a chaplain.”

The MP seemed surprised. “A chaplain?”

“Yes, a chaplain. This is a hospital. There are chaplains here. Please get one.”

With that, he closed the door. Through the glass, he could see them discussing his demand, then the MP talking on his handset.

“When the chaplain gets here, bring them in,” he told Kelly. “You and Yancey.”

He returned to the suite and the recovery room. Tomiko looked up at him with eager eyes.

“I’ve asked for a chaplain. I told Kelly and Yance to come in with them to be best man and maid of honor. Uh . . . is there anything else you want to do? Flowers or something?”

“Well, since I don’t think they have a one-armed wedding dress at hand here, I think everything’s fine the way it is.”

Rev took a seat beside her, and she leaned into his side. He was amazed by her resilience. Twelve hours ago, she’d purposely lost her arm, torn off halfway between her elbow and shoulder. Now she was sitting next to him as if the trauma hadn’t happened, ready to exchange marriage vows.

Of course, modern medicine and a lot of drugs were the reason it was even possible. She’d feel the pain later as the healing process started in earnest. But still, it was a miracle that she was functioning so well at the moment. His fiancée really was a badass.

The harried-looking chaplain, followed by Kelly and Yancey, arrived within eight minutes.

“Do you need to talk?” the chaplain asked Rev.

“No talking,” Tomiko said. “Just marry us.”

The chaplain was almost bowled over.

“You took over part of the hospital to get married?” she asked incredulously.

“No, of course not. We took over—it doesn’t matter what we’re doing here. But we want you to marry us. You can do that, right?”

“Well, yes, I’m authorized to perform weddings. But—”

“No buts, ma’am. Just do it.”

The chaplain was flustered. She stood there for twenty seconds, looking from Rev to Tomiko and back again, but she finally shrugged, pulled out her stole, and placed it around her neck and shoulders.

“Where do you want to do this? In here?”

Rev glanced around the room. It was a little crowded with all of them in it.

“Out in the suite.”

The two techs had stopped working and along with Daryll, moved over to join them. There was a little shuffling until they were all in position.

Tomiko was a little unsteady, and she grabbed Rev for support.

The chaplain faced them and started, “We are gathered here—” before Tomiko interrupted her.

“You can skip all of that. Just get to the official part.”

From the grip on his arm, Rev knew that Tomiko wasn’t doing as well as the façade she was putting forth.

“Do you want to say anything to each other?” the chaplain asked.

Tomiko looked up at Rev for a moment and said, “Reverent Pelletier, you are the man I love, and who I’ve loved since shortly after we met after standing on the yellow footprints at boot camp. No matter what happens here later today, and no matter what happens eight days from now, we’ll be bonded together forever.”

The chaplain looked at Rev, who hadn’t prepared anything to say.

“I . . . all I know is that I love you. I always have, even if it took me a while to realize that.”

Yancey let out a laugh which he quickly cut off. He was well aware of Rev’s confusion and his interlude with Malaika, which everyone except for Rev had known was a mistake.

“You’ve always been my best friend, Miko, and I thank my lucky stars that I got that traffic ticket when I was seventeen. Without that, I would never have met you. And now, yeah, whatever happens, we’re together. We didn’t need this ceremony to know that, but it’s gonna feel good to make it official.”

Tomiko nodded at the chaplain to get on with it.

“Do you have rings?”

Rev and Tomiko shook their heads in unison.

“No matter. They’re not necessary.” She turned to face Tomiko.

“Do you . . . what’s your name?”

“Tomiko Reiser.”

“Do you, Tomiko Reiser, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Tomiko looked deep into Rev’s eyes, and in a firm voice that left no question, said, “I do.”

The chaplain turned to Rev. “Do you . . .”

“Reverent Pelletier.”

“Reverent Pelletier, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?”

Rev was surprisingly nervous. This was not what he expected to be doing today. But there was no question as to his answer.

“I do.”

There was joy in Tomiko’s eyes, and Rev felt the same sweep through him.

“Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The chaplain gave a pointed look at the two techs. Julie was smiling, and Grant’s eyes were wet with tears.

“In that case, I now pronounce you husband and wife. First Sergeant, you may kiss the bride.”

Rev leaned over to Tomiko’s upturned face and kissed her. He would swear that he felt an electric shock sweep through him the moment their lips met.

When they finally broke, their faces beaming, Julie said, “Well, this was sweet, but we’ve got a lot to get done today, so let’s get at it.”

“Take me to the room, Rev,” Tomiko said.

“Yance, can you escort the chaplain out? And thank you, ma’am, for officiating.”

She was smiling now. “This is one of the most unusual ceremonies I’ve conducted. I don’t know what is going on here, but I hope things work out for the best and you lead a happy life together.”

Tomiko had an iron grip on his arm as he helped her back to the room. “Couch or bed?” he asked.

“Bed.”

He assisted her to it and helped her lie down. As he started to step back, she grabbed his arm again.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes, I am, Miko.”

And he was. Even with the stress of what they were doing, he was happy.

She didn’t let go of his arm, though. “I want to, you know, consummate the marriage.”

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying. He pulled back.

“Now? Here? In your condition?” he asked, shocked at the suggestion.

“I want to make this official, Rev. Please!”

“That’s . . . tradition. It isn’t required by law. We’re legally married now. Nothing can change that. You know that, right?”

“Yes, I know. But I was brought up that a marriage had to be consummated.”

Rev stared at her, and the pleading in her eyes.”

“But your arm . . .”

“I don’t need an arm to do this.” The pleading turned into something different, something more saucy. “You’ve only got one arm, and you’ve done pretty well in that department over the years.”

Rev felt his face turn red. But his eyes kept taking in her lost arm, the pale look on her face, and the unsteadiness in her voice.

“Are you physically up for it, Miko?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be doing all the work.”

Rev turned to look at the closed door. Kelly, Yancey, Daryll, and the two techs were right on the other side. He switched back to Tomiko. She was holding up the side of the bedsheet, inviting him.

<Just do it. Your body’s telling me you want to. And I can see she wants to as well.>

There was no degree of shame between Rev and Punch. They’d shared too much over the years. But this time, Rev wanted privacy.

“Shut off, Punch,” he said as he joined his wife in bed.

* * *

And that’s where Julie found them ninety minutes later. She raised an eyebrow as Rev hastily scrambled for his uniform.

“Now that you’re rested, Gunny, I’m ready for you.”

Tomiko seemed to relish Julie’s comment as she lay there with a cat-who-just-ate-the-canary smile on her face. Rev felt his face burning as he struggled to get his utilities on.

It seemed like forever until he was dressed. He helped Tomiko out of the room and into the suite. Daryll and Grant were huddled together. Rev could hear them, but once again, very few of the words made sense.

“. . . an XC-501,” Grant was saying.

“I can get a hold of one pretty easily.”

“Use a 440 or a 480, and you can convert the cross-bearing lats to carry the shear load . . .”

“What are they talking about?” Rev asked Julie.

“I told you we’re not going to be able to do everything here. We’ll introduce the woolly rhino and the other DNA, and we’ll start on supports. Maybe even the mesh. But there’ll be some things that we can’t do in one day.”

“What if we stayed here until tomorrow?”

“Oh, that will go over well with the cops out there,” she said. “But no. No matter what your demands are, there are some things that just can’t be rushed. The DNA has to be allowed to grow the bones, for example, before some of the other augments can be installed.

“Grant there is telling your tech how to get around some of the issues.”

She turned to Tomiko. “Gunny, an IBHU is a big piece of gear. You can’t just horse it around like you are. So, you’ll have to wear some externals to make up for what we can’t do.”

Tomiko nodded. “I understand.”

Rev and Julie helped Tomiko onto the operating table. Even without the recent trauma, she wasn’t used to moving around with only one arm.

Julie called Grant over, and he maneuvered one of the large machines up to Tomiko’s stump.

“Do I need to get scrubbed or anything?” Rev asked.

Julie shook her head. “We’re not doing anything ourselves. It’s all automated, and the machines will keep everything around the gunny’s arm disinfected and sterile. Grant and I are just here to move the equipment around, punch in the commands, and monitor the numbers.”

She waited until Grant gave her a thumbs-up before addressing Tomiko. “This is the first step, Gunny. The surgeons did a good job on your stump, but they weren’t preparing it for a collar. We’re going to debride the skin several centimeters and expose the nerves. We’re also going to take off a few centimeters of bone. We need to do that before we actually install the collar. Are you good with that?”

“I sure am,” she said, putting on a brave face. “Let’s do it.”

EPILOGUE

“Not very big,” Rev said as he looked at the stateroom.

Tomiko pushed past him and flopped on the rack. “At least we have a honeymoon suite now.”

“I wasn’t sure it was going to happen.”

The last eight days had been hectic, to say the least. Tomiko’s procedure had gone off without a hitch despite her condition and how rushed it was. Dr. Chakrabarti, the same person who started the program and had been there for Rev’s procedure so many years before, had arrived and taken over for Julie.

That was a godsend because she was able to get more done than the chief tech would have been able to. Chakrabarti’s bedside manner was as poor as always, but she, like Julie, seemed to relish the challenge and was using the procedure as a learning opportunity.

It was 0230 the next day before they were done and Tomiko was wheeled out to a waiting ambulance. There had been a few tense moments as the Anastasia cops wanted to arrest Rev and the rest, but after a fifteen-minute standoff, they were allowed to leave with an MP escort. Rev rode in an ambulance with Tomiko while the rest had a van.

Rev had his ass chewed by Major White Eagle (he’d been promoted the evening before) upon his return, Colonel Caplan, and, after he was escorted by MPs to the division headquarters, by General Auriolis. Rev didn’t care. He stood there and let the words slide right off his back. Tomiko may not be able to use an IBHU yet, but officially, she now carried the 0379 MOS: Integrated Bionic Hoplological Unit Marine.

That didn’t mean she was going on the mission yet, but it gave them ammunition, which was a better situation than it had been two days before.

The surreal aspect of the general’s ass-chewing was that when he was finished reminding Rev that what he and the others had done only reinforced the opinion that IBHUs were going rogue and couldn’t be trusted, he gave Rev his promotion warrant for sergeant major.

“I’d tear that up if I could. By thinking only of yourself, you’ve shown you don’t deserve it. But it was already signed by the commandant, and the only way I can take it back is to send you up for a court martial. And that would have to be done in the next six days. Frankly, I just want you out of my hair now. You’re dismissed.”

Rev turned to leave. The division sergeant major glared at him as he went through the door. Once outside, he looked over the warrant. The general hadn’t offered to pin his new rank insignia on, and the sergeant major looked like he wanted to kill him.

He shrugged. He asked his MP escort if he could stop at the PX, where he bought a set of chevrons. Standing there at the entrance of the building, he put them on himself. One of them was crooked, so the MP offered to straighten it out.

The next six days were a tale of two timelines. One was filled with the logistics of getting ready for deployment. As a sergeant major, the details wouldn’t normally be his job, but this situation was unique. In many ways, he was a company gunny again, making sure everything that was supposed to go actually made it to the staging area.

But Rev appreciated being inundated with the minutia. It helped keep his mind off of the second timeline, which was everything surrounding Tomiko’s request to be added to the mission.

Tomiko was bedridden for three days due to the trauma done to her body. She’d had a lot of procedures performed on her in a short period of time. Julie and Dr. Chakrabarti came over to Nguyen to monitor her process. Rev knew it wasn’t out of the goodness of their hearts but because Sieben wanted to see what they could take away from what had been done.

She hadn’t waited to formally put in her request, though. That happened on the afternoon of their return. As the first step in the chain, Major White Eagle reluctantly approved it. So had Colonel Caplan. But somewhere up the chain, the request was disapproved. And then things blew up.

The media got involved. Rev didn’t leak the story, and he didn’t know who did. One of them, or maybe one of their friends, contacted the media. But the IBHU Marines rallied around Tomiko. They threatened to refuse to board their ship unless Tomiko was assigned to the mission as well. Even the major came around and joined what was essentially a mutiny.

It became a big story—both as a love story of Tomiko sacrificing an arm to be with her husband and, as the general had warned, of how dangerous the IBHUs are and how they have to be reverted back to “normal” human beings. The fact that the mission wasn’t routine and that they were all being essentially exiled wasn’t openly known yet.

Through Punch, Rev found out that the holdup was a high-level official, possibly the Minister of Defense himself, who got a hair up his ass about letting “enlisted troops tell me what to do.”

Things were getting tense. There was talk about simply smuggling Tomiko on board. Rev didn’t want it to get that far, but he was beginning to think it might be necessary.

Rev hated all of the fuss. He was still a Marine, and Marines obeyed orders. And as a sergeant major, it was his duty to make sure things went smoothly and according to regulations.

One of the precepts of leadership was never to issue orders that your subordinates can’t obey. And that’s what was being done to him.

Unit discipline aside, he was also responsible for the welfare of his Marines. That meant Tomiko and the rest. So, he had two warring missions, and all he wanted was to calm the roiling waters.

He cursed the minister on an hourly basis.

On the fourth day, the deadlock broke. Someone higher than the minister—and there was really only one person higher in the government—made a decision. Tomiko was assigned to the mission.

There hadn’t been time to celebrate. Tomiko went in for some minor adjustments that Dr. Chakrabarti thought would help, and Rev was up to his ass in alligators trying to get ready for the deployment.

They’d be completely self-sufficient for the duration. There was no coming back for resupplies.

And then there was no more time. The gear was taken from the staging area, and the personnel were bused to the spaceport. At every moment, Rev half-expected the bus to be stopped and Tomiko removed. It was irrational, but the minister had to be angry, and angry men with power often did irrational things.

They reached the spaceport without issue, though, where max confusion reigned. Rev got more and more nervous as he tried to put out fires, but five hours and twenty-three minutes behind schedule, Rev and the rest were on the shuttle for the ride to the PUNS Galaxy Explorer.

“Are you ready for this?” Tomiko asked him as they waited to take off.

“It will be a relief.”

“Leaving Safe Harbor? It’s our home.”

Rev looked out the back ramp. He could see the trees and buildings on the far side of the tarmac. A flood of memories almost overwhelmed him. His family outings to Big Trees. School. Playing flipball. Darker memories, too. The invasions. Grover’s murder. His missing family.

If his family was still there, it would be different. But he’d finally decided that they wouldn’t be coming back.

Still, it was home. And yes, he’d miss it.

But he said, “As long as I’m with you, that’s where my home is.”

“Oh, you are so romantic when you want to be.”

She hugged his arm, her silver Rycroft intertwined with his. With them leaving, all of the IBHU Marines had reverted to them, junking the more realistic Hotchkins TC-450s.

When the shuttle took off, he felt a pang, as if his roots were being torn from the nurturing soil.

The ride to the ship was quiet, with most of them lost in their thoughts. They docked, and crew guided them to their quarters.

“You’re still on bedrest, Miko. Take it easy, and I’ll see to getting the troops settled in.”

“Come get me for departure.”

“Will do.”

Rev spent the next few hours dealing with the multitude of issues as gear was stowed and troops settled.

The PUNS Galaxy Explorer was the ex-PUNS Seary, a fleet supply ship. Decommissioned over fifty years ago, it had been undergoing rehab with old century-ship tech, making it suitable for multi-decade scientific exploration. After the Centaur War, the government had taken over the project, which had only accelerated once the Naxli came on the scene.

When the decision had been made to get rid of the IBHUs, the ship had become the logical choice. Its original mission was still valid, but now as the flagship of the Exile Fleet, as the Marines and sailors were calling it now.

The ship was huge. It had to be to carry all of the machinery, printers, and hydroponics necessary to provide everything the crew needed to survive. Not only for the ship itself, but also for the other four ships that would join them at Bare Rock Station, an outpost at the far edge of human space.

“Sergeant Major!” a voice called out behind Rev as he hurried to the IBHU armory, which he wanted to check before the ship got underway.

Rev turned to see a sailor in a ship’s jumpsuit, a bulge at the back of his neck and two external jacks identifying him as a Rigel Navy Helmsman. The fact that a Rigel sailor was aboard was a surprise, but there was something familiar about the man . . .

“Lake?” Rev asked, surprised to see the man.

It had been years, back when some of the hyper-augments were being shown off at the conference in Titan.

Lake came up to shake Rev’s hand. “I saw your name on the manifest, and I’ve been looking around for the last hour trying to find you.”

“It’s great to see you, sir. But why are you here?”

“Exiled, like you. All of us.”

“On the Galaxy Explorer?”

“Well, we’ve got our capabilities, as you know,” he said, pointing at his jacks. “So, the powers that be are spreading the wealth. There’re three of us aboard the ship. We came over a week ago to start the synching process.” He paused, then pointed at Rev’s chevrons. “Sergeant Major. Pretty cool.”

“And you’re a . . . still a lieutenant?”

The Rigel Navy didn’t use Union Navy ranks, but lieutenant was the equivalent, and that’s what Lake was when they first met.

Lake shrugged. “It’s a lifetime rank. Sort of like your warrant officers. We don’t command. We just drive ships.”

“Wow. I didn’t think you guys were getting booted, too. Anyone else? I mean, I know about the karnans and the Rangers. What about the Freedom commandos?”

Lake shook his head. “No Legionnaires or commandos.”

“They’re hyper-augments, just like us.”

“But they don’t stick out. You can’t tell just from a glance.”

That didn’t seem fair to Rev, but since when was the galaxy fair?

“Your hyper-augments don’t stick out that much,” Rev said. “And they’re not, uh . . . they don’t make you look dangerous.”

The Rigel lieutenant shrugged. “A bunch of us didn’t want to have ours taken away. Until you’ve seen space like we have . . .” he started to say before trailing off.

So, you’re here by choice.

Rev didn’t know how to take that. He was glad that the Exile Fleet would have their capabilities, but the IBHUs and the others had no choice.

“What about the carabinieri? Rumor is that the Buggatis were working on a hyper-augment,” Rev said.

“I’ve heard that, too. I guess we’ll find out when we get to Bare Rock.” He paused, then looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “Did you hear?”

“Hear what?” Rev asked, leaning in for what sounded like gossip.

“This isn’t supposed to be known yet, but you know, stuff leaks.”

“Just tell me. What are you talking about.”

“The gennies,” he said with a satisfied smile.

“What about them?”

“They’re coming with us.”

Rev’s mouth dropped open. This was new to him, and Punch hadn’t picked up a hint of that.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as the Mother makes little green apples.”

“We’re going to have a genny rep with us?”

“Not a rep. All of them. All of this has been hush-hush during the negotiations.”

Rev had always wondered about what had happened to them. They’d hidden from humanity for two hundred years, but their presence had been revealed on Pakao.

As he thought of it, them leaving with the fleet made sense. They couldn’t stay in human space. The masses wouldn’t stand for it. But war was not an option. It would be too costly for both sides.

But exile? It seemed like a likely course of action.

“How is that going to affect fleet dynamics?” he asked.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

Rev was about to speak again, when the 1MC came to life. “All hands. Underway in thirty minutes. I say again, underway in thirty minutes. Make final underway preparations and report in to division heads.”

“Already? I’ve got to run. But we’ll talk,” Rev said.

“And I’ve got to get to the bridge. Take care of yourself.”

Rev was a little confused as to exactly where he was. His navigational capabilities didn’t work aboard a ship. He needed Punch’s help to get back to his stateroom. Tomiko was sitting up on the rack waiting for him, and the two made their way to the rec room—yes, the ship had a large, functional recreation space, something that was a luxury in a Navy ship.

A holo base was set up next to the outer bulkhead, over which now floated an image of Safe Harbor. Marines were already gathering to witness getting underway. The air was filled with both excitement and a degree of sadness.

Kat waved, and the two made their way to her.

“How are you feeling?” she asked Tomiko.

“Weak as a kitten, but that’s to be expected. I’m just happy I’m on board.”

Kat had been one of the first to apply for the mission, and she’d been one of the first accepted. As Rev’s only family—well, one of two now, with him being a married man—leaving had been much easier knowing she was coming as well.

Rev scanned the gathered Marines. There was Kelly, Tsao, Randigold, Cocker, Pierson, Božič-Mizaki, and the rest of the IBHUs, of course. Strap saw him and waved. His application had been a little dicier. He was out of rehab, but he wasn’t quite at full combat capability yet. Tiwari and Hvarser, his old reaction team, had both applied, something that had touched him deeply.

Bundy, now a lieutenant colonel, came in with White Eagle. He spotted Rev and gave him a nod.

Rev nodded back, but he felt a pang of regret. The posse was down to three: Bundy, Tomiko, and him. Yancey, Fyr, and Ten had come to see them off. It had been difficult, and more than a few tears were shed, knowing that they’d never get together again.

He’d had loved for Yancey and Fyr to have volunteered, but he understood their feelings and didn’t blame them for staying.

Not everyone was a Marine or sailor. Three karnans, part of their rear party helping with the decommissioning of First Human, were standing together. Rev still didn’t know how many karnans or Rangers would be on the expedition. All of that and the organization of the expedition would be determined during the two months they were scheduled to spend on Bare Rock before they headed off into the unknown.

“All hands, we will be underway in five minutes. Final ready reports are due now.”

There was a murmur in the room. Everyone knew they were leaving for good, but as with any deployment, getting underway came with a degree of excited anticipation.

Tomiko leaned in to take Rev’s arm. He didn’t think it was because she was feeling weak.

Everyone turned to the holo. The planet looked beautiful. Even if he was leaving, Rev would always be a Harborian in his heart. Hopefully, someday, somehow, he would be back.

“I guess it’s real,” Rev said.

“Leaving, or us?” Tomiko asked.

Rev laughed. “Both, I guess.”

Kelly came over to join them. She gave Tomiko a hug, then stood beside her, facing the holo.

“Underway in one minute.”

The room went silent. All of them had battle buddies, and like Rev, they had their AIs count down the time.

<Why is leaving home like standing on wet cement?>

Now, Punch? Is this really the time for jokes?

Rev wasn’t in the mood to guess. “Just tell me why, Punch.”

<Because the longer you stay, the harder it becomes to leave, and you can never let go without leaving your footprints.>

Rev grunted, and a feeling of losing something dear to him grew. To suppress that, he said, “That wasn’t funny.”

<It wasn’t meant to be.>

Tomiko turned her head up to him at his grunt. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just Punch being . . . not Punch.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together as if wondering if he was crazy.

“All hands, the PUNS Galaxy Explorer is now underway.”

There was a cheer, and the holo started to shift as the ship turned. Except that wasn’t accurate. The holo was just a depiction done for the crew. But it gave them a visual that they had left their berthing orbit.

“I guess it is real now, like you said,” Tomiko told Rev.

He reached across his chest with his organic arm to pat the one she’d intertwined with his prosthesis. She was looking up at him with the biggest smile he thought he’d ever seen on her. She was positively beaming.

“What?” he asked.

“Now that we’re underway, they can’t send us back, right?”

“What are you talking about? They could, I guess. But why?”

“I’ve got to tell you something, Rev. I got it confirmed this morning, but I wanted to wait until we’re underway.”

“Tomiko, you’re being weird. What’s so important?”

Her smile grew even larger, if that was possible.

“Rev, you’re going to be a father.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant. Pikachu confirmed it.”

“That’s . . . that’s impossible.”

“And yet I am.”

“But your implant. You can’t get pregnant.”

“It was turned off. When I got my IBHU collar.”

“When did they do that?”

“Julie called it a blocker. But it was my implant. It was turned off so they could synch the connections. Remember? That’s why they had to wait two hours?”

“The two hours when we—”

“Made our baby. Yes.”

“But they turned the implant back on before you left, right?”

“I guess it was too late.”

Rev was stunned. This was so unexpected that he’d never considered it.

“A father? I’m going to be a father?”

He shifted his organic hand from her arm to her belly.

“You can’t feel anything now. It’s the size of a grain of rice,” she said.

But Rev could swear her belly felt different already.

“Well, this is going to complicate things,” he said.

“Your whole life is complicated. It’s always been that way. That’s why you’re the Nexus of Chaos.”

For once, he didn’t mind the nickname.

“Are you happy, Rev?”

Behind him, the simulated image of Safe Harbor disappeared, and the system’s sun slid into view.

But he couldn’t take his eyes off of her belly. This was almost too much to absorb, but one thing he did know was that despite everything, despite being exiled from the rest of humanity, the future was looking pretty good right now.

Crazy, hectic, and unimaginable, but good.

He brought Tomiko in for a hug.

“Yes, my wife. I’m happy. Very happy.”

* * *

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Rev will return in EXILED TO PERDITION, available on Amazon.

GLOSSARY

AGMS: Anti-G Straining Maneuvers

AIW: Association of Independent Worlds

AO: Area of Operations

ASAP: As Soon As Possible

BC: the digital currency for most nations

BFG: generic term for “Big Fucking Gun”

BIPAC: A heavy weapon used by MDS soldiers

BOCT: Benevolent Order of Crystal Technicians

Breel: ally to humans. Vegetative-type race. Called “ents.”

Bronze Nova: the third-highest medal in the Union military

CASEVAC: Casualty Evacuation

CCR-32 Didactic Interface: the AI implanted into the Marines’ heads.

Cerrocrete: a very strong futuristic concrete

CG: Commanding General

CO: Commanding Officer

COH: Congress of Humanity, the highest authority of mankind

Corolla Wars: a series of wars approximately 200 years before the events in these books. The wars pitted humans against several android and augmented groups.

CP: Command Post

CST: Combat Simulation Trainer

Camp Seong-Matris: One of the three camps on Eceladus housing the Home Guard’s Second Brigade

D-5 Cord: an explosive-saturated cord

Dalit: residents of Samara. They came from the Dalit caste, sometimes known as the “Untouchables.”

DC/Direct Combat: Marines such as infantry, recon mech combat engineers, who will face the enemy in direct combat.

Deca: an MDS unit about the size of a battalion

Deimers: a group of androids dedicated to eliminating humans. Defeated during the Corolla Wars

DI: Drill Instructor

Dykstra: a heavy sniper rifle

E-Club: Enlisted Club where the lowest three ranks can hang out, drink, and eat.

ECR: Effective Casualty Radius. The radius from a detonation within which will produce 50% casualties

EMP: Electro-magnetic Pulse. Will shut down all electronics within range

EOE: End of Enlistment

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

Eunuch Regiments: an extreme group an opponent of humanity during the Corolla Wars

EVA: Extravehicular Activity

FEPM-K: A combined electromagnetic pulse shell that is followed by a kinetic missile.

Frag Order/FRAGO: Fragmentary Order. A modified and abbreviated version of an operation order to modify or issue a follow-on mission

FSCL: Fire Support Coordination Line. A control measure beyond which fires into the area must be coordinated.

FTL: Faster Than Light, a starship drive

G-Loc: G-force induced loss of consciousness

Genesians: human/machine constructs and opponent during the Corolla Wars

Gnista: a formalized Naxli method of combat by champion

Gold Nova: the second highest medal in the Union military forces

Groundpounders: slang for infantry

HE: High Explosive

Hellborer: a man-packed beamer

Hiver: nickname for Naxli-subjugated race

Host: the military arm of the Frisian Mantle, a sometime ally/enemy of the Perseus Union

Hreetz: derogatory Naxli term roughly akin to coward

HSPEY: High Speed Planetary Extraction System

IBHU: Integrated Bionic Hopological Unit

Kanter: a small, furry, human ally. They attack in mass. Called “lemmings.”

Karnan: Nickname for the hyper-augmented soldiers from the MDS

KIA: Killed in Action

Leaches: Military slang for civilians

LOD: Line of Departure

LZ: Landing Zone

M-102 Nellis: the Marine Corps’ main sniper rifle

M-103: a 40mm grenade launcher attachment to the M-49 and M-51

M-133: a heavy weapon fired by mech Marines

M-305 Jackhammer: a crew-served 40mm grenade launcher

M-49 Assault Rifle: the standard weapon of the Union Marines. It fires a 2mm high-velocity dart.

M-51: a modified version of the M-49. Bigger barrel to fire a heavier dart that has tiny warheads in the tip that can help burn through body armor.

MF-30: a standard issue handgun

MM-37 Mantis II: a man-packed launcher for the Mantis II missile

MDS: Manifest Destiny Sphere

MilDes: Military Designator

MilDes Ninety-nine/Ninety-nine: essentially indentured servants in uniform

MMCS: Marine Mechanical Combat Suit

MoV: Medal of Valor, a Home Guard award. Runs from third class to first class.

MP: Military Police

MPT: Military Placement Test

Na: Hinglish word often tacked onto the end of a sentence

Naxli: “shifter” race and enemy of humankind. Called “nox” by Marines and “gaunts” by most other humans.

NCO: Non-commissioned Officer. The middle two ranks of enlisted Marines

NCOIC: Non-commissioned Officer in Charge

Niklith: human ally. Fierce fighter with electrogenesis capability. Nicknamed “scorps.”

NM: Neuro-mapping

Nox: nickname for Naxli

NVD: Night Vision Device

OBE: Overcome By Events

Omega Division/OD: the secret police and spy agency of the Union

OP: Observation Post

Optisight: a flexible optical tube

Order of Saint Bome: a fraternal/political elite organization within the MDS military

PAL-3: Personal Armor, Light 3: the standard body armor for an infantry Marine

PAL-5: Personal Armor, Light 5. The standard body armor of recon Marines and Raiders.

PAL-H: new and improved heavier PAL

PAL-HX: PAL-H version designed for IBHU Marines

Paladin: a large Centaur heavy mech unit, similar to a light tank

PFC: Private First Class

Phoenix MG-3 Incendiary Mine: a small grenade that can burn through most substances

Plastiderm: a synthetic skin that is used in medical procedures

PN: Platinum Nova the highest military award in the Perseus Union military

POO: Point of Origin. From where an incoming round was fired.

Poolee: someone who is committed to the Corps but who is not yet been sworn in as a recruit

PQ: Personality Quotient. Used to determine the human characteristics of some AIs

PS-40 “Viber:” an unpowered ground sensor

PUNS: Perseus Union Naval Ship

Raider: part of Recon, but with more combat-focused missions instead of surveillance

Recon: Reconnaissance Marine

Riever: a smaller Centaur mech unit, similar to a Marine Raider or reconnaissance Marine.

Rodan: Mezame hyperaugment. Can fly.

RP: Rally Point

S-1: staff section that deals with administrative matters.

S-2: staff section that deals with intelligence

S-3: staff section that deals with operations

S-4: staff section that deals with logistics

S-5: staff section that deals with technology and information

Safe Harbor: Rev’s homeworld

Secdrones: Security drones used by the police

SFC: Sergeant First Class, the equal to a Marine gunnery sergeant

Shrike: Union Navy fighter aircraft, capable of atmospheric and vacuum operations

Sia: etheral, floating race. Human ally. Called “singers.”

SNCO: Staff Non-commissioned Officer. The highest three ranks among enlisted Marines.

SOP: Standard Operating Procedure

Syksky: a deep-fried bread stuffed with spiced meat and vegetables

T/E: Table of Equipment. This is the document that identifies all the equipment of a unit.

T/O: Table of Organization. This is the document that identifies all the members of a unit.

Toan: human ally. Not very militaristic, but technologically advanced. Nicknamed “radishes.”

Toanphone: nickname for a commercial Toan-made communicator that is resistant to Naxli jamming

Toh: Hinglish word without a real meaning.

Torinth Accords: a treaty governing the rules of war

VGW: Veterans of Galactic Wars

Uauii: tripedal human ally. Called “clickers.”

WIA: Wounded in Action

Weislen’s Syndrome: A cancer-like disease affecting those who have had their bodies augmented. Known as the “rot.”

XM-554: a more powerful missile designed to have more punch

XO: Executive Officer, the #2 person in the unit.

Yellowjacket: a shoulder-launched missile

Yellowshirt: a Navy sailor charged with moving people and goods around a flight line.

NATIONS, INDEPENDENT WORLDS, AND POLITICAL ENTITIES WITHIN THE CONGRESS OF HUMANITY

Bugatti’s World

Association of Independent Worlds

Enclave of Humanity (Home System)

Federation of Independent States

Freedom Confederation

Frisian Mantle

Hégémonie Liberté

Manifest Destiny Sphere

Mezame Concordate

Nowhere

Osnovnoy Alyanz

Paxus

Perseus Union

Rigel Cluster

Samsara

Sunberry Group

Synergy Alliance

Tau Ceti

Tigana 3

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Second Brigade, Congress of Humanity Home Guard

Colonel Levin-Tell

Second Battalion

Lieutenant Colonel Semes

Major Djanka

Fox Company

Major Nona Yves

First Sergeant Glorious Weinstein

Corporal White

First Platoon

Second Lieutenant Aristotle Bundy

Master Sergeant Tina Barber

First Squad, First Platoon

1st Squad SFC Delila Gamay (Rigel Cluster Legion)

Staff Sergeant Ting-a-ling Tjivyrtzlin (Frisian Mantle)

Staff Sergeant Reverent Pelletier (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union)

Sergeant Refever Lines (Nowhere)

Sergeant Mylar Racine-Okan

Corporal Charles Akkeke (Millsap, AIW)

Corporal Manuela Acevedo

Corporal Taula La’ei (Uafua)

Corporal Henri Larson

PFC Jasmine Wahid (Sirocco)

PFC Jebediah Gingham (Moxigill)

PFC Uram Keung

Second Squad

SFC Lev Arsenyev (Osnovnoy Alyanz)

Staff Sergeant Lincoln Kvat (MDS)

Staff Sergeant Tomiko Reiser (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union Marine)

Staff Sergeant Rice Unifora (Paxus)

Sergeant Tims

PFC Suki Tun

Third Squad

SFC Moba

Staff Sergeant “Dog” San Martin

Staff Sergeant Toshi Gant (Mezame, Hégémonie Liberté)

Sergeant Moli Pinkerton (Nowhere, AIW)

Second Platoon

Captain Chokra (Revelation)

Master Sergeant Reston Fitzwater

Staff Sergeant Liam Patrice

Sergeant Crocker (Barclay)

PFC Minnie Rasta

Lance Corporal Ethereal Randigold (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union)

Sergeant Crocker (Barclay)

Staff Sergeant Rice Unifora (Paxus)

Corporal Wymont (MDS)

Third Platoon

Sergeant Tesler Sign of Respect (Rebirth, Perseus Union)

Other Notable Military Personnel

General Ibsen: Commanding General of the Home Guard (Planters)

Brigadier General Platte: senior Perseus Union Marine on Enceladus

Major Liege: Senior IBHU Marine in the Home Guard

Sergeant Major Pute (MDS) Third Battalion’s sergeant major

First Lieutenant Milei Macek: Golf Company. Senior IBHU Marine in Second of the Chief Wimox: (Paxus) Shuttle pilot

Cali Hu (Safe Harbor) Augmented Marine who contracts the rot

Yancey Del Rio (Safe Harbor) Marine, a member of Rev’s posse

Sergeant Tumeric Tsao (Safe Harbor) IBHU Marine assigned to Titan, Platinum Nova holder.

Notable Civilians

Daryll Begay (Safe Harbor, Perseus Union) Head Sieben technician for the IBHU on Enceladus

Zacharia Filmore (Perseus Union) Sieben technician for the IBHU

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

In remembrance of Micky Cocker, a great beta reader and a true friend to Jonathan and his family. She was a joy to all and a shining light that was snuffed out too early.

Kelly O'Donnell

James Caplan

Christie Strahler

Neil Rubenking

Tracy Beattie

Sharon Mendez

Mike Belanger

Eliss Wiltshire

Matthew Lewis Titus

Bill and Konnie Kampfer

Geoffrey Morse

Joshua Hopkins

Mike Belanger

Elissa Wiltshire

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ABOUT THE AUTHORS

J. N. Chaney is a two time Dragon Award nominee and USA Today Bestselling author, has a Master’s of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, and fancies himself quite the Super Mario Bros. fan. He migrates often, but was last seen in Las Vegas, NV. Any sightings should be reported, as they are rare.

Chaney is best known for his Renegade Star series, the Variant Saga, the Messenger series, and Ruins of the Galaxy. For more on his releases, go to www.jnchaney.com.

* * *

Jonathan P. Brazee is a retired Marine colonel now living in Colorado Springs with his wife Kiwi and twin baby girls, Danika Dawn and Darika Marie. He was born in Oakland, CA, but has lived throughout the US and the world, and has traveled to over 100 countries.

He has more than eighty-five titles to his name in six different languages. He is a two-time Nebula Award and two-time Dragon Award finalist as well as a USA Today bestseller. Find out more by visiting his website at http://jonathanbrazee.com.