Ascendant, Page 2

  And having let him know, she’d probably never bring it up again. Because she knew the pressure he was under, that he’d need her support, and that arguing with fate was worse than useless.

  What right did he have to put her through that? Rob bit his lip, trying to come up with words, and finally looked up at her again. “Ninja, I’d decided I should go because you, and those kids, deserved a free world to live in. I really don’t want to leave. If it would hurt you that much—”

  “Oh, shut up, Rob! You and I both know you have to go! Because that’s the idealistic idiot that I was stupid enough to fall in love with and marry! And our kids will probably inherit your sense of duty and idealism so someday I’ll have to see them off on some harebrained noble missions, too! And it’ll be your fault! But you had better come back again, do you hear me? You come back, or I swear I will tell these kids that you were a fool and they should never be anything like you!”

  He looked at her helplessly. “What is it you want?”

  Ninja shook her head. “You figure that out for yourself.”

  “Do you think I want to do this?” Rob demanded. “Leave you and Little Ninja? Go out there and . . . watch men and women die because of orders I gave? Do you think I want to do that again?”

  She looked at him without saying anything for a few moments. “You say their names sometimes when you’re asleep. Did you know that? The names of the ones who didn’t come back. I hear you say those names, and I don’t know what to do.” She reached out and embraced him, her arms gripping him tightly. “And then I think of Kosatka, and how many people would have died there if you weren’t such an idiot. And how you got most of the crew of Squall home when it seemed hopeless. And here at Glenlyon, where Scatha would probably have been running everything by now. People like you and Mele go out and do things like this because you think you have to, and people like me and Little Ninja just hope and pray you come back each time.”

  “It really is about you,” Rob whispered in her ear. “I can’t let you down.”

  “I know.” Ninja pulled back and looked in his eyes, smiling sadly at him. “The first time we met, you were the lieutenant in Alfar’s fleet reviewing my case, and I was just some sailor who was being pushed out the door. And I realized you actually cared. I wasn’t anybody to you, and the brass wanted me gone, but you wanted to be sure I got a fair shake. And I thought, if he’s like that with someone he doesn’t even know, what’s he like with someone he cares about? I knew what I was getting. I wanted what I got. Usually that’s great. Sometimes, like now, it hurts.”

  “I’ll tell the council no if that’s what you want.”

  She shook her head. “What I wanted was Rob Geary. I got Rob Geary. For better and for worse. I’m going to be mad, I’m going to be real unhappy, but I know why you’re going. Do you know that guy Ferrer who works in station IT?”

  “No,” Rob said, puzzled by the apparent change in topic.

  “His girl was on the Claymore. They were going to get married. Right now she’s listed as missing.” Ninja put her palms on either side of Rob’s head, holding it so he had to look back at her. “Go out there and make sure there aren’t a lot more people like Ferrer and his girl. You can do that. Beat the scum who destroyed the Claymore and don’t lose too many of our own doing it. Bring back alive as many of our own as you can. And remember that we need you. Make sure you come back.”

  “I will.”

  “And Mele. Bring her back, too. That girl is crazy.”

  “She’s a Marine.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  * * *

  • • •

  The official workday on the orbital station had ended. Mele Darcy lounged back in one of the comfy chairs at her favorite bar, half-facing the floor-to-ceiling virtual window that offered a stunning view of the planet down below. As commander of the orbital station’s security force Mele encouraged the members of the small police force to wear their uniforms when visiting places like bars. That way they could discourage troublemakers while enjoying themselves. Not being the type to ask one of her people to do something that she wouldn’t do, Mele was both wearing her security captain uniform and enjoying herself.

  Knocking back a shot, Mele nodded to Rob Geary as he walked up to her. “Have a seat, space squid. I hear you talked to Leigh Camagan, too. Are you a commander now?”

  “It takes effect tomorrow,” Rob said, sitting down and waving off an attentive server bot. “How about you?”

  She paused to consider the question, remembering the events of three years before. Remembering the risks she had run and those who hadn’t made it. “Still making up my mind.”

  “You’d get to be a Marine again.”

  Mele eyed him. “I never stopped being a Marine.”

  He looked properly abashed. But then Rob Geary was always so earnest. “Sorry.”

  “Yeah,” Mele said, easing up on him, “it’s like a permanent condition. No known cure.” She examined the empty shot glass in her hand, then grinned at Rob, knowing that others found that expression on her both captivating and alarming. “I heard if I accepted the deal my new boss would be a real hard case.”

  “Yeah,” Rob said. “He must be pretty dumb, too, to agree to be your boss.”

  “I’m not that bad. Unless people give me a reason to be.” Unfortunately, that also conjured up memories of three years ago. Mele leaned forward, dropping her outward lack of concern, her expression suddenly intent. “I’ve done all right running the security force up here. Steady work, nobody looking over my shoulder as long as I do my job right, not too big a chance of getting killed.”

  “Me, too.”

  “How mad was Ninja?”

  “Pretty mad.”

  “You and Ninja and your little girl are the closest thing I have to family out here,” Mele told him. “Just in case you didn’t realize that.”

  He looked away, obviously unhappy.

  “You must have given Ninja a reason, Rob,” Mele said. “Give me a reason.”

  He paused to think, looking out the virtual window that offered a view of night creeping steadily across the oceans and continents below. “They need us.”

  Mele snorted, letting her exasperation show. “Last time they needed us they got rid of us as soon as they didn’t need us anymore.”

  “I don’t mean the government. I mean Glenlyon. I mean people like Ninja and my little girl. Mele, you know what this place will be like if Scatha moves in and takes over.”

  “Yeah.” Mele grimaced. “But I didn’t like sticking my neck out, giving my all, then being kicked in the butt by the people whose butts I’d saved.”

  “I can’t give you any other reasons,” Rob said, his eyes on her.

  “What, no appeals to my honor?” Mele asked, looking around for the drink bot. “No promises of fame and glory?”

  “Sorry, no.”

  She sighed. “Fortunately for you, I gave up on fame and glory during boot camp. There are only two reasons I’m considering taking their offer. One is because I don’t want Ninja to be a widow, which means you need someone with restraint and common sense nearby when things get crazy.”

  “Are we talking about you?” Rob asked. “Because I thought you said restraint and common sense.”

  Mele grinned at him again. “That’s the other reason. Because I know I’ll be working for somebody who isn’t an idiot.”

  “At the moment, Ninja might not agree with you on whether or not I’m an idiot,” Rob admitted.

  “It can’t be easy on her.” Mele shook her head, looking down toward the planet. “Do you really think you can bring around those Earth Fleet stiffs?”

  “Danielle Martel told me that any Earth Fleet officers I encountered would be very skilled and good at what they do. She also told me they’d be unable to function without their checklists. She was right on bot
h counts.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mele asked, finally tagging the serve bot. “You want anything?”

  “I’m good,” Rob said, as Mele dialed up another shot. “What am I going to do? First off, delete the checklists.”

  She couldn’t help laughing. “Make them think? What kind of monster are you?”

  “The kind that wants us to win and those Earth Fleet sailors to survive,” Rob said.

  Mele nodded, nursing her shot. “You’ll still only have one ship. No way that’ll be enough.”

  “We’ll need friends,” Rob agreed. “Hopefully we still have a few.”

  “Kosatka still owes you,” Mele said, but couldn’t resist adding more. “That’s probably one of the reasons the government wanted you back so bad.”

  “Probably. I also need Marines.”

  “People in trouble often do.” She smiled, toasting him with the shot. Mele downed it, sighing with satisfaction at the warm sensation of the liquor hitting her stomach.

  Rob finally smiled back at her. “Do you think you can whip up a Marine force for me overnight?”

  “Miracles usually take about a week,” Mele replied, giving him a serious look. “It’ll depend on what kind of warm bodies I get. According to Camagan, the government is ordering Colonel Menziwa to provide me with twenty volunteers from the ground forces regiment. Guess how Colonel Menziwa is going to feel about that?”

  “Mad as hell?”

  “Probably. I don’t know if you’ve worked with Menziwa, but I’ve dealt with her a couple of times when her boys and girls got into trouble up here. She’s not the warm and fuzzy type.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Rob asked. “I have no idea how much time we have before Scatha or their pals show up here.”

  Mele shook her head, trying to decide on a third shot or not. “We’ve got time. The wise general sees to it that his troops feed on the enemy.”

  “What?”

  “That’s a quote from an Old Earth guy named Sun Tzu,” she explained. “He also said that the best policy in war is to take a state intact. That’s what Scatha and their friends are doing. Like at Hesta. Take over without a fight so everything is undamaged.” Mele jogged her head in the general direction of where Saber orbited. “They don’t want to destroy Saber. They want her in one piece, ready to add to their own forces. All of which means Scatha won’t be showing up with another invasion force. Not right away, anyhow. They want to see if we’ll fold like Hesta did. That’s why they let the Bruce Monroe bring back the survivors from the Claymore, to scare us into submission. Otherwise, why wasn’t our first news about what happened at Jatayu the surprise arrival of an invasion force?”

  “Damn,” Rob said, nodding. “Maybe you should be the one in charge.”

  “I’m not stupid enough to want that job,” Mele told him.

  He paused, looking around the quiet bar where worried-looking men and women sat morosely facing each other. “But we may not have that much time. Scatha’s plan may work. People are scared. We have to give them a reason to think this world can hold out.” He paused again. “But the longer we do hold out, the higher the odds that Scatha and its friends will attack.”

  Mele, who had been looking about for the server bot again, focused back on Geary. “Because?”

  “Because they don’t want Glenlyon being a successful holdout, an example to every other star system that fighting back can work. At some point, they’ll decide we need to be made into a different kind of example, a cautionary one of what happens to star systems that don’t submit.”

  She nodded. “Good point. Yeah, if we inspire opposition, sooner or later Scatha and their pals will come in and start breaking things to cow anyone thinking about doing the same thing. So, we’ve got time, but maybe not a whole lot of time.”

  “We?” Rob asked. “Does that mean you’re in?”

  Mele frowned at her empty shot glass. “I need one more drink before I say yes. Don’t go taking that the wrong way, squid.”

  “Ninja wouldn’t like it if I did.” Rob laughed. “We’re both likely to get screwed anyway before this is over.”

  “But not in a good way.” Mele sketched a salute toward Rob, wondering how much she’d end up regretting what she was about to say. “All right. You’ve got yourself a Marine. I’ll call Camagan to tell her and go see Menziwa tomorrow about the warm bodies we’ve been promised.”

  “I’ll need you in the morning if you can put off your visit to Menziwa until the afternoon. What are your plans if Colonel Menziwa won’t deliver?” Rob asked.

  “I’ll tell her to talk to my boss.”

  He shook his head at her. “Thanks.”

  “But, seriously,” Mele added, hoisting her third shot and looking through the amber liquid. “I don’t think there’s much chance Kosatka will come through for us because they’re tied up with trouble at home. My old buddy from the Battle of Vestri, Lochan Nakamura, is still there, and the occasional messages I get from him say Kosatka’s problems are getting worse. Who was that girl Lochan was hanging around with? The one who came out from Old Earth? Carmen . . . Ochoa.” Mele downed the shot. “Tough girl, according to Lochan. I hope they’re both okay.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Shadowy figures flitted along the edge of the spaceport terminal, some in battle armor and some only wearing chameleon camouflage fatigues but all bearing weapons.

  Not wanting to be spotted by those others, Carmen Ochoa advanced cautiously through the layers of ornamental planters that offered the best cover along this part of the spaceport. Her own cammies helped conceal her, but Carmen had long ago learned to take nothing for granted. People who made assumptions like that didn’t last long on Mars. Her rifle, a high-powered model with a large scope, wouldn’t be much good in a close-in fight.

  She’d made it off Mars and ended up on Kosatka. So far it hadn’t exactly been a happily-ever-after thing.

  Four years ago automated construction equipment had begun pouring the foundations and erecting the buildings that would someday be a city named Ani, the third city on the planet, preparing for an expected flow of new settlers. Three years ago she and Lochan Nakamura had reached Kosatka, he looking for a new start and she hoping to do something worthwhile in hopes that other worlds wouldn’t end up like Mars had. He’d become a diplomat for the government. She had struggled to make a difference as a civilian, but eventually fell back on the skills learned while surviving Mars.

  Those skills had been needed because two years ago the occasional acts of terrorism that were plaguing Kosatka had suddenly expanded into a low-level insurgency, and last year the low-level insurgency had become a small-scale war. Ani, its new downtown and spaceport gleaming with the sterile and pristine shine of structures awaiting their first use, had become a no-man’s-land as the rebels declared it their capital and Kosatka fought to regain control.

  Carmen paused, crouched behind a retaining wall, scanning the area ahead for the platoon commanded by Lieutenant Dominic Desjani. Three years ago, Desjani had been a public security officer, and Kosatka’s army had consisted primarily of organizational charts prepared for a militia that few expected would ever have to be fleshed out. Today, he was out there somewhere in front of her, in charge of a group of hastily trained soldiers helping to defend the spaceport.

  Carmen finally spotted him and his platoon, crouched behind one row of heavy planters. The contrast between the soaring, shining spires of the spaceport buildings and Desjani’s dirty, battered group of soldiers felt unreal.

  She called out. “Friendly!” Having announced her arrival to prevent any jittery soldiers from firing at her, Carmen, bent over to stay low so she wouldn’t be visible to enemy soldiers, ran toward Dominic. She eased up close to him, carefully observing the advancing rebels through the scope of her rifle. “We need prisoners,” Carmen whispered.


  “Why are you on the front line again?” Desjani whispered back, anger in his voice.

  “I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if a certain cop hadn’t decided he needed to be a hero,” Carmen replied, feeling a rush of affection mixed with worry. “You could be fairly safe back in Drava, you know, maybe directing traffic in that city instead of being on the front here in Ani.”

  Her jab must have gone home because Dominic changed the subject. “Where’s our aerospace support?”

  “Ask your commander. I’m just a volunteer intelligence officer, remember?”

  Desjani glanced at the weapon in Carmen’s hands. “So that’s an intelligence collection device?”

  “Contrary to the old saying, dead men do tell tales,” Carmen told him. “I’d prefer some live ones, though.”

  “You may get your wish very soon,” Desjani said.

  Carmen saw the figures of more so-called rebels appear, advancing in individual rushes among the waist-high barriers once intended to channel traffic approaching the spaceport terminal. Their chameleon camouflage was trying to match the metallic gleam of the road barriers, which made them stand out against the glass of the spaceport’s main entry behind the rebels.

  She waited as Dominic took aim, calling out to his soldiers in a low voice. “Steady, boys and girls. Pick your targets.” He fired, the rest of his soldiers opening up, some of the rebels jerking at the impacts of hits and falling. Behind them, panels of glass hit by some of the shots shattered into shards that fell gleaming to the ground, the chiming of the broken glass lost amid the boom of gunfire.

  Most of the rebels dropped behind the cover provided by the barriers, but one in battle armor stood, solid projectiles bouncing off, a hit from an energy weapon causing a section of armor surface to vaporize but not penetrating as the rebel fired back.

  Carmen leveled her rifle, sighting carefully, the autosight zooming in on the face shield of the rebel in armor. Her rifle barked, and a moment later the face shield shattered.

  As that rebel dropped, she heard Dominic Desjani calling out, “On the left! They’re also coming up through that office access!”