Triumphant (Genesis Fleet, The)

by Jack Campbell

  “An ambush, they said. No warning. It must have been in an area where the enemy had managed to map out everything.”

  “If you contact anyone else, warn them of that. We can’t assume the enemy is lost in all portions of this facility.”

  “But, Major, we cannot know which areas the enemy has been in long enough to map them,” Nasir said.

  “That’s true,” Mele said. “Which means we have to assume the enemy has mapped out anywhere we go. How’s your group?”

  “We have been chased, and we have made those who chase us unhappy when they have caught up with us.”

  “Good. How are you doing, Shahid?”

  “I am fine, Major. I try to give my Marines hope in my words and my actions. I believe I have been successful so far.”

  Mele hesitated, surprised by how calm Shahid Nasir sounded. “Good. Try to remain positive, but don’t forget to stay scared enough to be alert for the threats we’re facing.”

  “I have not forgotten the danger. But I remember what my father told me. Those filled with fear see only their fears,” Nasir said. “Those filled with hope see what they fear, but also a path onward that leads to what they hope for.”

  She looked along the dark tunnel at the tired shapes of the Marines in her group, slumping as they rested. Her Marines. “Yeah. I see hope, too.”

  “Major, someone’s trying to trace this link,” Sergeant Giddings said.

  “Got to go, Lieutenant,” she said. “Good luck. Darcy, out.”

  Choosing a route to another hiding spot, Mele passed it to Corporal Lamar.

  “Got it,” Lamar said. “Ford—”

  “Take point,” Private Ford said, sounding resigned.

  “Don’t anticipate commands,” Lamar chided him.

  “Yes, Corporal.”

  “Take point.”

  “Yes, Corporal.”

  They dropped through a hatch into a small room that led to a stairwell.

  Private Ford had taken only four steps down the stairs when he froze, his weapon aimed downward.

  “What is it?” Lamar asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ford said, his voice wary. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Nothing’s showing on sensors,” Lamar said.

  “I know. But it’s wrong.”

  “Major?”

  Darcy gazed down into the darkness, weighing the need to move against the instinct of a single private. Was Ford spooked, or was there some danger up ahead?

  She had maybe two seconds more to decide. If there really was trouble ahead, it might not give her any more time than that to make up her mind.

  And right now her mind urged her to order Ford forward. Just go. Don’t hesitate.

  But she did hesitate.

  Damn.

  Why?

  The voice of her old sergeant echoed in her memory. “You’re not as smart as you think you are, Darcy. And even smart people can be stupid. Try not to forget that in case anyone’s lives ever depend on you.”

  “Fall back,” Mele ordered. “Everyone cover Ford.”

  Ford retreated backward, one cautious step up the stairs, like someone moving through a minefield.

  Warning alerts flared on Mele’s battle armor display. “Move!”

  She fired as explosions rippled up the stairway, the rest of her group joining in, Private Ford jolting backward as at least one shot struck him, then being hauled along as they retreated up through the hatch, enemy fire chasing them and wounding another Marine.

  “Get it sealed!” Lamar ordered.

  “Not yet!” Mele shouted, grabbing grenades from other Marines, priming three, and pitching them in a group down through the hatch into the projectiles and energy bolts flaying the hatch. “Now!”

  Two Marines got the hatch closed, another pouring liquid weld onto the seam to seal it solid. They hadn’t finished when the surroundings rocked from all three grenades detonating.

  Mele calmed herself, studying the schematics, choosing a new route, and relaying it to Lamar.

  “Ford!” Lamar called.

  “He’s wounded,” Corporal Okubo said. “So’s Kusinko.”

  “Can they move?”

  “K’s going to need to be carried. Ford can only use one arm until I get him patched up.”

  “That’s a yes,” Mele said. “Let’s get moving, Lamar.”

  “Mac! On point!”

  Private MacKinder moved out, his weapon ready, threading through the maze along the path displayed on his helmet’s face shield. The others followed, Mele staying in the middle of the group along with the wounded. She studied the layout as they went, guessing what the enemy might be doing, where they might be going to try to catch Mele’s group as it fled. “Sergeant Giddings, are you picking up anything?”

  “There’s some signal traffic flying,” Giddings replied. “Just random hits on my sensors. But a lot of it. I can’t tell anything else.”

  “They’re being sloppy with transmissions,” Mele said. “That means they’re in a rush, trying to box us in. Lamar, I’m shifting the route. Got it?”

  “Yes, Major.”

  “See that segment to the left with the access running past it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m certain that some of them are going to be coming along there to cut us off. We’re going to wait and give them a welcome.”

  “Got it, Major.”

  They headed to the left, the Marines pausing and dispersing along the short hallway, Lamar and Mele positioning them with hand signals to avoid tipping off enemy sensors scanning for even the weakest transmissions. The Marines readied themselves, aiming toward the doorway to the access tunnel, Mele preparing two more grenades.

  Vibration through the structure. She felt it a moment before her sensors warned of approaching movement. As she expected, they were moving fast, trying to seal off some of the routes that Mele’s group would need to use to escape. Urged on by commanders eager to ensure their prey didn’t escape. Moving too fast to spot unexpected trouble before they ran into it.

  As the shaking caused by the footfalls of heavily laden soldiers in battle armor grew very close, Mele pitched the two grenades in rapid succession through the access, bouncing them off the far wall so they rebounded down the hallway into the approaching enemy. The soldiers who appeared as they ran past the opening were cut down by fire from Lamar and the other Marines, the grenades detonating among their comrades who would at that moment be piling up just short of the access.

  Mac led the charge through the access, firing down it as his shoulder hit the far wall, the other Marines following and shooting into the surprised and already battered enemy force.

  By the time Mele had readied her rifle and followed, the shooting had stopped.

  She spent only a moment evaluating the situation, seeing the bodies of the enemy sprawled about, ensuring this enemy force had been wiped out. Fifteen fewer enemy soldiers to worry about.

  No, fourteen. One of the enemy was wounded, breathing heavily, staring at the Marines. Mele kicked the soldier’s weapon away before speaking to Lamar again. “New route. Go.”

  “What about—”

  “They’ll have picked up our attack here and be coming to this location. They’ll find their wounded and take care of him. Now get going!”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mac, point!”

  Mac grumbled as Lamar designated him point again, but went ahead.

  Without the schematics in their battle armor the group would’ve been quickly lost as they threaded through apparent dead ends and actual tight spots until finally reaching a compartment where they could stop. “Post two on sentry,” Mele told Lamar. “Glitch, how’s it look?”

  Sergeant Giddings took a moment to reply. “If they’re still talking, it’s too far off from us to pick anything up t
hrough the structure. I can’t see any signs they’re close.”

  “We lost them,” Lamar said.

  “Maybe,” Mele said. “One hour here while Doc Okubo fixes up our wounded, then we move.”

  “Major?” Giddings said. “If you want my opinion—”

  “Damn, Glitch, don’t you know better than to say that to an officer? Fine. What’s your opinion?”

  Sergeant Giddings gestured outside the compartment. “When we move, we make noise. We have to move sometimes, because they’re going to be searching everywhere, but if we move too much, we’ll make too much noise.”

  “Making it easier to find us?” Mele thought about that, looking toward where two Marines on guard duty watched the entry to this place. “That’s a good point. Have you got any feel for how long we should stay in one place before we move?”

  “I’m guessing three or four hours minimum between moves, Major. Unless we hear them coming and have to move sooner. Six hours if we can stay in one place that long. They want us to bolt, like rabbits, because we’re easier to spot when we run.”

  “Yeah,” Mele said. “We just got a demonstration of that, didn’t we? All right. Five hours. But I want some portable sensors planted out there with independent fiber feeds back to here.”

  Corporal Lamar nodded. “On it, Major.”

  Mele finally let herself relax again for a moment, trying to rest, wishing she knew how much longer this contest would last. “How’re Ford and K?”

  “They’ll live,” Corporal Okubo said. “Ford’ll be able to use his arm again in a little while. But K’s not going to be walking for some time.”

  She let out a long breath, staring into space, trying to decide. “Does he need hospitalization?”

  “No, Major,” Okubo said, knowing what she meant. “We don’t have to leave K to be picked up by the enemy. I’ll let you know if it comes to that.”

  “Do we know these guys will treat prisoners right?” Corporal Lamar asked.

  Mele nodded. “If they’re a pro outfit, they should play by the rules when it comes to prisoners. It’s stupid to kill prisoners when they might spill something under interrogation, or provide leverage in negotiations. For all they know, K is a knucklehead with a grudge against his officers who’ll tell them lots of stuff if they treat him nice. If we have to leave K, or anyone else, they’ll be all right. But for now we keep him with us.”

  “Major?” one of the other Marines said. “Kusinko really is a knucklehead.”

  “But I love our officers!” Kusinko added from where he lay as the others laughed.

  “Sure you do,” Mele said. “Doc, is Ford going to be well enough to work point again?”

  “In five hours? Yes, ma’am,” Okubo said.

  “Good. Lamar, I want Ford on point when we move.”

  “Major, I’m wounded!” Private Ford protested.

  “If Doc says you can handle the job, you get the job,” Mele said. “Because you’re so good at it. I’m going to be counting on you to sniff out any more ambushes. Congratulations, Private Ford.”

  “But . . .”

  “No good deed goes unpunished,” Corporal Lamar reminded him.

  * * *

  • • •

  Rob Geary, frustrated with sitting on the bridge while not able to do anything to help the defense of the orbital facility, had retreated to his stateroom. “Me being there was just making everyone else as tense as I was,” he told his wife.

  The image of Ninja on his stateroom display gave a nod, her eyes shadowed by fatigue. “You’re not the only one who wishes they could do more.”

  “No luck?”

  “Not much.” She gestured around vaguely, the motion sharpened by anger. “They’re keeping everything tight. Good discipline. About all I’ve been able to do was break into their comms long enough to find out they’re really unhappy about the resistance they’ve run into.”

  “But nothing we can exploit?”

  “Not yet. At least we know Mele’s people are still fighting.”

  Rob grimaced. “That just reminds me that I can’t help her.”

  “You’re helping, Rob. You’re keeping those warships off her back.”

  “Is that how everyone is seeing it?” he asked. Her hesitation provided the answer without words. “Okay. I knew how this would look.”

  “They know better than to say anything around me,” Ninja said.

  “Have you heard anything from the enemy warships?” Rob said, deliberately changing the subject. “Any clues to their supplies or fuel cell levels?”

  “Not yet. Promise me you won’t do anything crazy.”

  “I already did.”

  “Promise again.”

  “I promise.” Rob sat forward, looking down at his hands. Hands that could do nothing. “I’ve never let Mele down before. I’ve never let you down. But this time . . .”

  “The chance will come. Leigh Camagan went to get help. That woman is tough. She’ll get us help. And when it gets here, you will kick the butts of those guys.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  His tone must have made clear how he felt, because his wife’s gaze and voice grew fierce. “Hey, Rob. You’re a hero to me. Never forget that.”

  He couldn’t help a small smile as he looked back at her. “I hope I never do. But I still want to save those people on the facility.”

  “Well, duh, why do you think you’re my hero?”

  * * *

  • • •

  “Mine.” Private Ford breathed the single word, freezing in place as another Marine slid forward cautiously to disable the enemy trap.

  “Got a sensor over there, too,” Sergeant Giddings said, pointing. “We need to disable it.”

  “Where?” Corporal Lamar asked, checking the spot. “Oh. I got it.” She used an EMP pen to send a kill charge through the sensor the enemy had planted. “They’ll know we just took that out.”

  “By the time they get here we’ll be long gone,” Mele said. “Is the mine disarmed?”

  “Yes, Major.”

  “Move it over there, and reset it to explode on any target. When they come looking for that sensor, their own mine will be waiting for them.”

  They were about fifty meters farther on, Mele guessed, when she felt the shock of the mine’s detonation.

  Ten meters beyond that, Ford stopped moving again. “I’m picking up movement!”

  “Me, too,” Lamar said. “On the right and below us.”

  “Move straight on,” Mele said. “They might be trying to herd us.”

  As the group moved through a large compartment subdivided by improvised barricades, a place that Mele belatedly realized had been part of her favorite bar up here, a flurry of enemy fire suddenly came from their left.

  One of the Marines carrying Private Kusinko fell, and so did Kusinko. The two nearest Marines hesitated.

  “Get out of here!” Kusinko yelled, rolling onto his stomach to fire. “I’ll cover!”

  “Move up and straight!” Mele ordered Lamar.

  They scrambled through the barricades, heading for a spot Mele knew, through what had been a door behind the bar and through a storage area that held crates of mixer too cheap to bother taking down to the surface. She heard Kusinko’s fire cease abruptly, and hoped that meant he’d been captured rather than killed.

  Private MacKinder paused long enough to slap a small mine next to the exit as they went out.

  Ford dropped through an access, ran over a couple of meters, and then pulled open a concealed access visible on the helmet schematics. Everyone followed as he dropped through again.

  By the time they reached another hiding place, everyone was breathing heavily, their battle armor life support laboring to process their exhaled carbon dioxide back into oxygen.

  Mele gritted
her teeth, trying not to think about Kusinko.

  “Major?”

  “Yeah, Doc,” she said.

  Okubo waved in roughly the direction they’d come. “I was still getting Kusinko’s life support readings when they cut off. He didn’t register as killed before his armor systems stopped transmitting. Maybe they killed his armor systems and him at the same time, but there’s a good chance K was taken alive and his suit systems wiped themselves.”

  “Thanks,” Mele said. “Corporal Lamar, who’d we lose?”

  “Yuri was carrying Kusinko,” Lamar said. “I think he bought it. Where’s Carlita? Did anyone see what happened to Carlita?”

  “I think she got hit right before we got away from where we left K,” Mac offered. “I didn’t see her after that.”

  “Son of a . . .” Lamar muttered. “That’s it, Major. We lost Privates Josh Kusinko, Carlita Indra, and Yuri Chen.”

  “Thank you,” Mele said, feeling personal responsibility for the dead and injured Marines, trying not to let her rage and sorrow at the losses show to the others. They needed an officer who was calm and in charge, not one overwhelmed by emotion or beating herself up with guilt. “Inventory the power supplies and ammunition before we move on from here. Glitch, see if you can get any picture of the enemy’s movements, and see if you can contact any of our other groups. I need to know how many effectives they have left.”

  “Do you want locations, Major?” Sergeant Giddings asked.

  “Hell, no. If they tell us that, the enemy might intercept it. All that’s important is knowing which of our groups are still active and how many people they’ve got left.”

  Mele slumped against a bulkhead, closing her eyes, thinking about K and Indra and Chen. And wondering how many more of her Marines, and the ground forces soldiers fighting alongside them, had also been lost already.

  * * *

  • • •

  The unwelcome sound of a high-priority incoming message awoke Carmen from a deep sleep filled with clashing images of Mars, Old Earth, and Kosatka. She bolted awake, breathing heavily as she fumbled for her pad. Had a second invasion fleet arrived in this star system? “Ochoa.”