“Colonel Sifuentes? I think he’s in the armory, sir,” she answered automatically before her face fell, and she looked at Colby, asking, “I mean, if that’s OK for me to say that.”
“Why do you want to know, Vice-Minister?” Colby asked, almost choking on his words.
Greenstein stared at Colby, then turned his body so that there was no doubt that he was snubbing him, and said, “If your commander isn’t here, then I order you to arrest this man.”
“Sir?” Captain Utica asked, clearly confused.
“Did I stutter? I told you to arrest this man. He was in my custody until some. . . people in military uniforms. . . released him. Those people will be found and prosecuted, but as I know your name, Captain. . .” he said, turning to look at her name tape.
Captain Utica kept turning away from him, keeping her name tape from his sight, and he almost chased around until with a shout of victory, said, “Utica!
“As I know your name, Captain Utica, it won’t be hard for me to find you if you do not obey my orders. So, get your Marines and arrest this man now!”
She looked up at Colby, clearly out of her depth, then said, “I. . . I can’t, sir.”
“What do you mean, you can’t? Can’t or won’t? I’m warning you, your career is about to come to a very unpleasant end.”
“She can’t, Vice-Minister. You have no authority to give her any such orders.”
Greenstein had been deliberately ignoring Colby, but at this, he turned towards him, his face turning red as he almost choked before managing to get out, “What the hell do you mean, Edson? I have the authority, and you damn well know it.”
“In that, you are sadly mistaken,” Colby said, a smile forming despite his half-ass attempt to control it. “You do not have the authority.”
Greenstein stared at him, mouth gaping open. He turned to look at the two of his capital guards as if for support. The SUTAs glanced about at the eight other Marines in the room, Marines who were taking an intense interest in what was going on. Greenstein’s guards evidently decided that discretion was the better part of valor because they failed to look the vice-minister in the eyes. They might be jerks, but that didn’t mean they were stupid.
Even without their moral support, the vice-minister did not back down. Instead, he ramped up the rhetoric, pitching his voice as if surrounded by media recording him for the evening news, and addressed everyone around him.
“I am First Ministry Vice-Minister Asahi Greenstein. I have declared Colby Edson in violation of Civil Code 1402.3b. As such, it is within my authority to request assistance from any Republic constabulary or federal troops to carry out arrests and detainment,” he said before breaking down into normal speech, “That means you Marines. You have to arrest Edson.”
Captain Utica had regained her composure. She stepped around Edson and said, “If the general were a civilian, you could charge him with whatever that code is. But since he is a Marine, all charges have to be referred through the Commandant of the Marine Corps via SJA-1.”
“Edson? A general? He used to be a general, Captain, but he got cashiered,” Greenstein said, the gloat in his voice almost enough to make Colby step up and punch him. “Now he’s nothing but a farmer at the ass-end of the galaxy.”
Four of the Marines stepped forward at his words, and the two SUTAs instinctively took a step closer together. Colby held out his hand, palm outward, to stop the Marines.
Before he could have the satisfaction of giving the vice-minister the news, Captain Utica said, “He may be a farmer, sir, but he’s also an active duty lieutenant general of Marines.”
Once again, Greenstein looked poleaxed. This time, Colby didn’t hold back the grin.
“That’s correct, Vice-Minister Greenstein. As of. . .” he said before checking the time, “. . . eight hours and thirty-two minutes ago, I’ve been recalled to active duty. Signed, sealed, and delivered.”
“But. . . but you were cashiered. You were kicked out for cause.”
“You’re never completely out, vice-minister. You’re simply transferred to the inactive list, there to be recalled at the whim of the director.”
“She signed off on this?” he said, a note of panic in his voice.
Colby could practically see the wheels turning in Greenstein’s mind. If the director had signed off on Colby’s reactivation, then that could portend a new political wind, and ever the politician, he was acutely aware of how things could change.
“As I said, signed, sealed, and delivered.”
The vice-minister stood there silently for along moment, and Colby could almost hear the gears spinning furiously in the man’s head.
“I’m going to want this confirmed, Edson—”
“General Edson.”
The vice-minster almost snarled, but said, “General Edson. I want to speak with the commandant. I assume you realize that as a vice-minister, I have the authority to dema. . . to request that?”
“Of course, sir.” He turned to the captain and said, “Please relay the vice-minister.”
“I’d be happy to, sir,” she said with sarcastic enthusiasm.
As a civilian, even a high-ranking civilian in the First Ministry, Greenstein did not have a military implant. His commercial implant could connect him throughout human space, but only through the commercial relays. The main relay on New Mars had been turned into so much rubble by the alien daikaiju, so to call back to Earth, he either had to use his ship’s comms and then request a patch to the military side of the ministry, or he could be patched right to HQMC via Captain Utica’s.
“Sir, code two-three-bravo-niner-six-foxtrot-zero-four-four,” the captain said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Greenstein said as he flipped down his earset.
He turned away as he started sub-vocalizing, not that Colby could have picked up what he was saying even if he tried. The reason he’d had the captain relay Greentein’s call was that his implant was still offline. Now, if he’d had it, as a Level 6 implant, he could listen in.
Captain Utica caught his eye and raised her eyebrows. She could listen in without too much trouble. Colby shook his head, suddenly feeling guilty for his own thoughts along those lines.
The vice-minister was getting angry, pacing back and forth, punching the air with his right hand in a fist. That made Colby happy. The guy should be rotting away in a federal cell, preferably on some planet with heavy gravity and noxious air, but for now, no matter how petty it might be, Colby was enjoying this.
Until the vice-minister suddenly stood up straight, his right hand raised to his ear. He nodded, then said aloud, “So, I am the senior First Ministry rep?” He nodded a few times, then said, “Thank you, General McTimmons. I’ll pass on to the first minister how cooperative you’ve been.”
Colby’s stomach gave a lurch. General McTimmons was the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps, who, along with the two force commanders, was on an equal level as a vice-minister. And if Greenstein was happy with whatever the ACMC had just said, Colby was pretty sure he was going to hate it.
“Thank you, Captain,” Greenstein said in a saccharine voice. “You’ve been a great help.”
He turned to Colby but made a show of stowing his earset, keeping him waiting.
“Well, General, it seems that you have been reactivated after all. Congratulations are in order, I guess. We’ll worry about the charges after this operation back to Vasquez is over.”
Colby waited for the other shoe to drop as the vice-minister looked at him with triumph gleaming in his eyes.
“Is that all?” Colby finally said, losing the battle of wills.
“Oh, no, now that you mention it. It seems that I’ve been made the senior First Ministry rep for the mission—you know, to make sure this thing is actually done correctly. And as you are part of the First Ministry, and, of course, as I out-rank you, I am in command.”
Colby stared at the vice-minister in shock.
He’s in command? Of a military operatio
n?
“I’m going back to my ship, General. I’ll expect a full brief in. . . oh, let’s give you time to get this done. . . in two hours?”
With that, he wheeled around, snapped his fingers at the two Capital Guards—who seemed more than eager to leave—and marched back out of the room. As soon as the hatch closed behind him, Marines broke out into questions.
Colby started to activate his implant before he remembered he was still cut off.
“Quiet!” he shouted before turning to the captain and saying, “Get to the ACMC’s office and find out just what is going on.”
Colby had felt like taking a victory lap only ten minutes ago, but victory had been snatched right out from under him. If Dickhead was right, this mission had just turned to shit.
***************
“General, the vice-minister wants to inspect all the Marines,” Major Nkundlande-Siphers passed. “What do I tell him?”
“Excuse me, Captain,” Colby said, holding up a hand. “I need to handle something.”
Greenstein was being a pain in the ass, but it hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared. First, he was not in command of the task force, as much as he wanted to believe it. Task Force Roundup was a military operation, pure and simple, and Colby was in command. Still, the first call he’d received once his implant had been reactivated—the Marines hadn’t been able to hack it yet, but as part of the compromise with the civilian side of the First Ministry, the block had simply been turned off—had been from the commandant himself. He told Colby to humor Greenstein for the moment. Colby had objected, wanting to arrest the man, but what had been simply a request from the commandant immediately became an order that brooked no argument, and Colby immediately shut up about it.
The vice-minister had cancelled the brief he’d told Colby to give him (which was just one less possible confrontation as Colby had planned on sending a junior officer to do that). He’d stayed in his ship, emerging once the Navy arrived and again just now. He’d spent five minutes making sure the Navy knew he was in charge, and now, eight hours later, he’d come out again with his latest demand.
Colby knew the man was just trying to let everyone know he was in charge. It was petty, but Colby could play the game, too.
With his implant back to its full capability, he didn’t have to subvocalize. Years of experience enabled him to “think” his messages, and the implant sent them.
“Take a squad from Alpha, have them lay out their full gear in component mode, weapons disassembled. Give him a checklist, then we’ll see how long he lasts.”
“Oh, sir, with all due respect, you are a cruel man,” the major said.
“How do you think I got three stars, my young major. Edson out.”
Marines absolutely hated a component inspection, referred to as “junk on the bunk.” It was onerous to set up and easy to fail. With so many parts, it was almost impossible to have them all in perfect condition. What the junior Marines didn’t necessarily realize is that the SNCOs or officers conducting the inspection hated them even more, if that was possible.
“I’m sorry about that,” Colby told the Marines and sailors in the small, almost-intact room he’d commandeered as his CP. “Captain, you were saying?”
Captain Alicia Whitehorse was the composite fleet commander as well as commanding officer of the RS Pattani, a Naha-class frigate and the designated flagship of the task force.
Colby had not been familiar with her, which was not surprising. She’d just made captain, and he’d been out of circulation for awhile. A quick scan showed that she was an up-and-comer, one of the Navy’s brightest stars. Highly experienced and decorated, Colby was glad that it had been the Pattani that was close enough to answer the call.
It wasn’t that the other two captains and ships were lightweights. Commander Deshal Brockmorton of the corvette RS Portnoy Bay, and Commander Nick Pierce of the packet destroyer RS Gazelle had excellent records as well—no one got command of a Navy ship without being one of the best—but Whitehorse and the Pattani were one-percenters.
With the ongoing crisis with the Borealis Pact, Colby was surprised that the Navy had even sprung the three ships. It was necessary, as the plants represented a clear and present threat to humanity, but the plants were an unknown to the command while they understood the very real danger of the Borealis Pact.
“Yes, General,” the captain said. “There was some talk about waiting for the Surrey County to arrive so you could have assault craft for your Marines, but based on your initial report, the sector commander thought time was of the essence.”
The RS Surrey County was a Ground Assault Carrier, designed to forcefully insert Marines on an enemy-held planet or moon. Vasquez might still be technically enemy-held, but Colby didn’t think that the Surrey County’s capabilities would be needed to land his Marines.
The sector commander had been right, time was critical. Topeka and Riordan were still there, and Riordan needed medical care. Chances were that more survivors were on the planet as well who’d managed to hide or run, and while Marines could stand up to the plant soldiers, he knew civilians couldn’t face them head on and survive.
“The Pattani has more than enough spaces for your Marines, and with our ship’s shuttles and my gig, we can land you in two waves. With your warning order, we’ve tentatively chosen two locations, here and here,” she said, waving her wand. Vasquez appeared over the table, then the image zoomed in to DeStaffney Station, where Colby, Topeka, and Duke had battled the plant soldiers and found the enemy ship, then it rotated to Tennison, the second collection point for the planet’s agricultural products.
“Once you debark, we will take the guard position at the wormhole while the Portnoy Bay and Gazelle remain on call for any support you need.”
The image of Vasquez disappeared, to be replaced by images of both of the smaller ships, along with their armaments. As always, Colby was somewhat in awe of the power even a smaller capital ship had. A corvette was a pirate and smuggler hunter, and the packet destroyer was a ship killer, but either one of them had more firepower than a regiment of Marines. He was confident that if his Marines needed fire support, either ship would be more than capable to supply it.
Neither ship could touch the firepower of a frigate, however.
“Explain to me one more time why the Pattani is going to remain by the wormhole and not in orbit.”
Colby had received the ship disposition already, and even as the task force commander, there wasn’t much he could do to change it, but he wasn’t quite sure of the whys and wherefores as of yet.
“If we have to destroy the wormhole, sir, then the Pattani is the only ship of the three of us capable of doing that.”
Destroy the wormhole? Then Vaquez would be isolated. Why? he started to wonder before it hit him. Of course. We killed the plant boss here on New Mars, but if a new one can. . . sprout?. . . then we cannot risk it getting through here, and then to other systems.
“And why only the Pattani?”
“Neither of the other two ships have a Pluvian Doomfist. The Pattani does. Imploding a wormhole is, well, it’s a balancing act between brute power and a delicate touch. The ship has to be in the exact center of the wormhole, and you know how they keep shifting with gravitational fluxes. Then, the PD has to be set for a close-sphere field induction. And trust me, General, if the induction fails to spark full pluviation, imploding the wormhole will be the least of your problems. We’re talking a wave of quantum instability spreading out from both ends.
Colby couldn’t understand half of what the captain was saying, but he nodded sagely.
“And that will destroy the wormhole?”
“If we keep the induction field at max output for between 20 and 30 seconds, yes, sir, it should.”
“That can’t be good for the ship and crew.”
The captain laughed, then said, “No, sir. It won’t. We’ll get the crew off on the life-capsules, but the ship itself will be lost.”
Colby knew
how captains felt about their ships, and he was surprised that she was so matter-of-fact about the potential for her ship to be destroyed. He decided right then and there that not only did Captain Whitehorse have a sterling record, but he rather liked her. She was the kind of warrior he understood. She was his kind of people. The kind of officer who would unflinchingly sacrifice her own career much as he had done. He hadn’t met many in his long career, and stumbling over one in the current situation struck him as an omen of sorts.
Well, Edson, that means you need to make damn sure she doesn’t end up sacrificing herself to close that wormhole. What a waste that would be.
“And the Surrey County? Does this have the Puluvian. . . Ploovi. . . uh. . . the same capability?”
“No, sir. None of the amphibs have the PD. Frigates and battleships, and only the newer ones at that.”
It was just as well, Colby thought. Ever since humans left their caves to fight one another, those in charge always wanted more firepower, it didn’t matter if it was bigger clubs or bigger spaceships, that need had never changed. He didn’t have to like it, but Colby knew that when the time came, he would make full use of whatever they had.
“Well, let’s hope it never comes to that,” Colby said. “So, what are we looking at for leaving orbit?”
“We’re ready when you are, sir.”
“Colonel Sifuentes?”
“Without the armor, we’re light. Top Wunton’s already aboard the Pattani doing a quick embark brief, but we’d be ready to load out in 30 minutes.”
The armor was a sore spot. It had proven extremely effective against the plant soldiers, but somehow, they’d almost all been disabled, gummed up, and CWO4 Mikhailov, the battalion armorer, had said that some components couldn’t be repaired. With 331 Marines, the task force had exactly five working sets of battle armor.
“We always say that it’s the Marine who’re the dangerous weapons, not what we arm them with, so this might be the time to prove it.”
Colby watched his officers. Manny’s attempt to suppress a grin was less successful than Whitehorse’s effort not to roll her eyes. “Let’s start the embark. I want every ass-slap onboard in ninety minutes. Can we do that?”
The Seeds of War Trilogy Page 20
