by Eric Thomson
“Yes, we will. You can do what you want with them. The admiral has outlawed the Imperial Guards Corps in the entirety of the Shield Sector, and proscribed imperial viceroys, governors-general and governors.”
Tymak held Morane’s eye for what seemed like an eternity before giving a grudging nod.
“Take the Pathfinders whenever you like. I’ll make sure no one opens fire.”
“Thank you, General. We intend to do so in the next twelve hours.”
“One more thing, Morane.”
“Yes?”
“I’d like a full situation report on what’s happening elsewhere. We’ve been cut off for months.”
“Of course. I’ll also mention you need a new subspace relay once I return to Aramis. Your cooperation today will certainly help convince the admiral and his staff to hasten its replacement.”
When Morane saw Tymak’s eyes tighten, he was afraid he might have overdone it, but then the self-proclaimed general said, “That’ll be a fair consideration. Just make sure you take none of the fucking Guards. They’re mine.”
“Promised. Thank you, General.”
Morane returned to the conference room and updated the others on his conversation with Tymak. When he fell silent, Mikkel grimaced.
“Do you think we can trust him?”
“Probably not. But I don’t see how he might profit by firing on our shuttles. If anything, Tymak will want to capture them intact, which is beyond his ability.”
“Unless he forces our pilots to land behind his lines under threat of aerospace defense fire,” Commander Ryzkov said.
“At which point, we will bombard his troops, Lori. Tymak was an Imperial Marine officer. He knows a Navy ship in orbit always holds the high ground. But just in case, let’s plan on the shuttles coming down on the Talera mountain range’s far side. From there, they’ll fly nap of the earth to the fortress. That’ll keep them off rebel sensors until the last minute. Once the shuttles are on final approach, we’ll paint the rebel positions with active fire control as a warning.”
“That takes care of our part. How about the 14th Guards? They might take exception to our evacuating the Pathfinders and open fire.”
Morane glanced at his combat systems officer. “I understand DeCarde plans on blocking and booby-trapping every egress to the fortress roof, Annalise, but we’ve yet to hear how they intend to deal with the Guards should their delaying tactics fail.”
Vanquish’s coxswain, Chief Petty Officer First Class Arnon Shaney, shrugged. “Fight. What else is there?”
“CIC to the captain.”
Morane swallowed a brief surge of irritation.
“Yes?”
“Seven ships dropped out of FTL at the hyperlimit.”
All eyes in the conference room turned to Morane.
“Transponders?”
“Aye, sir. The 191st Battle Group.”
Mikkel swore. “It mutinied and went over to Admiral Loren eighteen months ago.”
“If they’re broadcasting, they don’t expect to find loyalist units, or in our case, neutrals in this system. The bunch Admiral Greth blundered into near Toboso were nice and quiet, even after triggering the ambush.”
“Meaning the 191st’s arrival isn’t due to them hunting us.”
Morane made a face. “I sure hope not, Lori. Because it would mean our clean break wasn’t really clean. Be that as it may, their arrival forces us to move up the evacuation.”
“For more reasons than one, Captain,” Mikkel said. “If Tymak finds out a second rebel battle group has entered the system and they somehow spoke with each other, he’ll have a lot less incentive to let us pick up the Pathfinders unmolested. As far as the 191st knows, our 197th remains loyal to the Crown.”
“Bridge, all ships to go silent immediately. Once that’s done, open a link with Colonel DeCarde and pipe it to the conference room.”
— 12 —
“Colonel.” Centurion Haller stuck her head into DeCarde’s office. “Captain Morane wants to speak with you. Apparently, complications just dropped out of FTL at the hyperlimit.”
“Shit.” DeCarde followed Haller back into the command post, where the hologram of a seated Morane was waiting. “Sir, my centurion said something about new arrivals.”
“Correct. The 191st Battle Group, which was among the earliest formations to mutiny. Or at least a portion of it, since we spotted only seven ships instead of the usual eighteen or more. We need to move up the timetable dramatically. The will arrive in a few hours, perhaps as little as five, and if they somehow speak with this General Tymak who seems in charge of the Coraline rebellion, we could face difficulties flying our shuttles in.”
“Sir?”
“I told Tymak we were one of Admiral Loren’s units here to pick you up at his orders, so he won’t shoot at my shuttles, or force me to bombard his units from orbit. Coraline’s already suffered enough damage as it is.”
“Admirable, I’m sure, sir, but Tymak and his troops aren’t much different from the Guards for respecting the Aldebaran Conventions. However, I understand that’s neither here nor there. How soon would you like to execute the evacuation?”
“Within the next two hours, if that’s possible on your end. My shuttles are ready, and the pilots only need a final briefing from your embarkation officer so they know how to stagger the landings.”
A pained expression twisted DeCarde’s face. “Leaving in broad daylight means most of the 14th Guards will be up and about, not to mention alert.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”
“Understood, so long as your pilots realize the last of my troops to embark will probably do so while exchanging shots with the Guards.”
“The shuttles’ armor can handle most small arms fire, Colonel, and they’re equipped with close-in defense calliopes capable of covering your rearguard.”
“Two hours?” DeCarde glanced at the time display on the operations board.
“Two hours. Try to keep a constant link with us from now on, so we stay aware of your status.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Vanquish, out.”
When DeCarde’s eyes slipped to the operations board again, she saw Haller had triggered a countdown timer. “Where are Major Salmin and Sergeant Major Bayn?”
Haller nodded toward a closed door to her right. “In there, discussing the embarkation plan with the squadron commanders.”
“Good. I can announce the change in plans to everyone at once.”
When she entered the command post’s improvised briefing room, Salmin fell silent, and all eyes turned toward her. DeCarde wasn’t one for intruding on a subordinate’s show, and her unannounced arrival could only mean new developments.
“I just spoke with Captain Morane. A rebel battle group came through one of the wormholes. Our evacuation can’t wait until after nightfall. Operation Bug Out is a go in,” she glanced at her time display, “one hundred and seventeen minutes.”
She saw several eyes widen, but none of her officers made so much as a sound, nor did their expressions change in any other way.
“If it’s time to go,” Salmin finally said, “it’s time to go. We’ll be ready.”
Major Bowdoin Pohlitz, the officer commanding B Squadron, which would embark last, squared his shoulders and nodded. “That means our chances of withdrawing under fire just increased fivefold if the Guards decide they don’t want us to leave or figure on swamping the last flight out.”
“The shuttles can offer covering fire.”
“As long as their pilots aren’t trigger happy and wait until we’re clear of the stairwells.”
“What about the rebels outside?” Salmin asked.
“Morane bluffed them into holding fire by pretending his ships belonged to Loren, who wants the 6th of the 21st to join him on Aramis. Once this new bunch comes within radio range and contacts Coraline’s new rulers, his bluff is over, which is the other reason we’re leaving in less than three hours.”
“I need anoth
er ten minutes, Colonel, then we can start the drawdown. I assume we’re still bringing everything we own with us?”
“Absolutely. Where we’re headed, we might never see another quartermaster depot again. Besides, I don’t want to leave anything useful for the Guards. They don’t deserve it.”
At that moment, DeCarde’s communicator vibrated. “Yes.”
“Haller, sir. Colonel Verkur is demanding to enter our unit lines.”
“Demanding?”
“He sounds pretty peeved at the new security measures.”
“Coming.” She gave Salmin a meaningful look. “Trust Dagon to show up at the most inconvenient time.”
**
“Now I know you’re up to something, DeCarde,” the Guards officer said when she joined him at the sentry post. “Why the increased security and why are your people crawling all over the castle’s upper levels and rooftop?”
She gestured toward her unit lines. “Why don’t we talk in my office?” As he fell into step beside her, she continued, “Troopers become bored during a siege, Dagon. So I’m shaking things up by changing alert levels and running exercises to defend against an enemy attack from above.”
“The rebels can’t cough up enough aircraft for a raid.”
“As far as we know. But you may remember we lost most of our aerospace defense ordnance during the withdrawal from Alexandretta. What’s left up top can be taken out in a bold strike to prepare a forced entry. Perhaps it’s not the most plausible scenario, but I’d rather my troops keep moving and thinking. Sitting in the fortifications all day long, watching the rebels watch us, dulls the mind. Of course, I should think Guards are used to dull minds, so maybe your folks don’t need periodic shakeups.”
By the time they passed through the command post on the way to DeCarde’s office, Haller had hidden any traces of Operation Bug Out, but DeCarde knew the centurion was anxious to pack.
“In fact,” she pointed at a chair, inviting Verkur to sit, “we’ll be conducting rapid reaction exercises to repel an enemy landing later this afternoon. You’re welcome to watch. Perhaps you might learn something.”
The Guards officer studied her as if she were a particularly suspicious coprolite specimen. “What are you really doing, DeCarde? We intercept encrypted transmissions from off-planet, and suddenly, your behavior gets even stranger than usual. I have half a mind to remove you from command.”
“You even owning half a mind is debatable, Dagon. And you can’t remove me from command, even if you claim seniority in rank. We belong to legally separate services.”
“Then perhaps I should put a halt to your nonsense by occupying the stairs and roof until you come clean.” A slow smile crept across his chinless face. “That would displease you, yes? Then I shall do it.”
When he made to stand, DeCarde pulled her blaster from its holster and pointed it at Verkur’s face. “Why is it you dumb fucking Guards always end up writing your own death warrants?”
Verkur didn’t seem able to decide whether she was joking or in earnest and he smiled. “Come now, Brigid. There’s no call to point a weapon at a comrade.”
“You were never my comrade. And you’re neither a Marine nor a soldier. Marines and soldiers protect civilians. They don’t murder them.” She stroked the trigger, and a smoking hole appeared where Verkur’s flat nose once sat. He crumpled to the stone floor in silence, flash-broiled brain matter oozing from the larger hole in the back of his skull.
“Centurion Haller?”
“Sir.” Haller’s head appeared in the doorway. Then, she looked down and made a face. “Oops. Clean up in aisle four. I’ll get a couple of troopers to hide the body.”
“And make sure you erase any evidence he entered our unit lines. Knowing the Guards, they’ll run themselves stupid trying to find him before the next in line decides this is his or her big chance at commanding the mighty 14th. Hopefully, that’ll further degrade their ability to stop us from leaving.”
“Will do, Colonel. And then I can finally pack.”
— 13 —
Morane strode across the hangar deck toward Vanquish’s command shuttle, piloted by Lieutenant Commander Creswell who would lead the rescue flight.
“Ready, Annalise?”
“Everyone here is good to go, sir. I’m waiting for Narwhal and Myrtale to confirm.” She tilted her helmeted head to one side. “And they’re ready.”
“Godspeed and good luck. Bring everyone home safely.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Creswell snapped to attention and saluted. “With your permission.”
“Launch.”
Creswell raised her left hand and made a whirling motion. Almost immediately, a siren began it lugubrious chant while the hangar deck lights dimmed. Large space doors, framed by the shimmering curtain of a force field, slowly drew aside to reveal a carpet of stars above Coraline’s curvature. And though Morane knew the force field would keep the deck pressurized, he nonetheless retreated to the control room. From there, he watched as Vanquish’s shuttles lifted off one after the other in a continuous stream until the hanger was empty.
Shortly after that, Creswell’s voice came over the control room speaker. “Mercy Flight is assembled and heading for the target.”
Morane touched his communicator. “Bridge this is the captain.”
“Bridge.”
“Warn the 6th that we’ve launched our side of Operation Bug Out. I’m heading for the CIC.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Captain, out.”
**
“Mercy Flight is on its way, sir.”
Centurion Haller slung the surface to orbit radio over her shoulder where it thumped against the pack containing her worldly goods. Like every other member of the 6th Battalion, 21st Pathfinder Regiment, she wore powered combat armor and carried, besides her own equipment, a share of the common gear and of the rations they stole from the Guards. Heavier crates already sat in the stairwells, waiting to be hoisted up by A Squadron, the first in line and headed for Narwhal.
“Right on time.” DeCarde grinned at her operations officer through an open helmet visor.
Though as commanding officer, she wasn’t expected to hump her share of the command post, she still carried the backup radio and the tactical AI that served as scribe, controller, dispatcher, and assistant to Haller and Piotr Salmin. The latter was already on the roof with Sergeant Major Bayn, preparing to marshal the shuttles and direct the embarkation.
So far, the 14th Guards were keeping quiet. Those few who noticed the Pathfinders mustering in full marching order seemed to shy away as if unnerved by the sight of the elite troopers in their powered armor. And no inquiries about Verkur’s whereabouts so far. DeCarde figured he probably disappeared for several hours at a time regularly. Everyone knew of his playmate on the governor general’s staff.
DeCarde took a last look around the bare room, to make sure neither of them had forgotten anything. “I guess that’s it. Time to join the rest of HQ Squadron.”
“Aye. If I never see this place again, I’ll die happy.”
“Me too, Centurion. Me too.” But the moment they stepped into the corridor, DeCarde’s radio came to life on the priority command circuit. Governor General the Countess Klim wished to see her and Lieutenant Colonel Verkur. “Crap.”
“What is it, sir?”
“The countess is feeling lonely. She’s convening an impromptu command conference.”
Haller snorted. “I doubt she has enough gin to drown the sorrow that will come from finding out both of her military commanders are gone.”
“Speaking of which, what’s become of Verkur?”
“Best you don’t think about it, sir. But his remains will never be found.”
“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” Their powered armor propelled them up a set of polished stairs and then another, before passing through a hasty defensive position thrown up by B Squadron on the fortress’ penultimate level, one of four established to cover the batta
lion’s withdrawal.
Soon afterward, the chase teams passed through them and confirmed that not only was the entire battalion waiting just below the roof, but the obstacles and booby traps were active, sealing them off from the rest of Klim Castle.
Unexpectedly, the countess’ grating voice filtered through her ear bug. “Lieutenant Colonel DeCarde, this is Governor General the Countess Klim. Please respond.”
“DeCarde here.”
“Why didn’t you present yourself to the conference room? And where is Lieutenant Colonel Verkur? His people tell me they can’t find him, nor can they track his movements. It’s as if he vanished off the face of the planet.”
“I don’t know where Dagon might be, Countess. Did you check with your deputy chief of staff? I understand she’s quite close to him.”
“Of course I bloody well checked with Azurine, Colonel. I’m not a stupid old woman unaware of what goes on around her.”
DeCarde forcefully suppressed the urge to laugh with derision.
“Then I can’t help you. Dagon is his own man.”
“And when will you show up?”
“My unit is in the middle of a training exercise, Countess. Perhaps afterward.”
“You are a very vexing person, Colonel. Did someone ever mention that?”
“I’ve heard it mentioned once or twice, mostly by those unaware of what goes on around them. But it’s fair that I point out you don’t yet understand how vexing I can be when I put my mind to it. Now was that everything? I am running a tactical exercise.”
“We shall discuss your flippant, disrespectful attitude later, Colonel.” Klim abruptly broke the link.
“I think not,” DeCarde muttered. “You soused, useless old bat.”
“Beg pardon, sir?” Haller gave her a quizzical look.
“Just saying my farewells to our beloved governor general.”
Haller’s head tilted to one side. “Lieutenant Colonel Gaillard, who I suppose is now the Guards’ new commanding officer, though he knows it not, wishes for a moment of your time, Colonel.”
“Patch him through.”
Moments later, Gaillard’s nasal tones erupted from her ear bug. “What the hell are you playing at, DeCarde? My people tell me you’ve blocked off access to the top level, and now I find our aerospace defense guns are inoperative. Or at least they’re no longer talking to us. We’re effectively blind topside.” DeCarde smiled. Her sabotage experts from the Pioneer Troop were performing their usual magic.
