Ascendant

by Jack Campbell

  “How bad is it?” she asked Dominic as he walked past.

  “It could have been worse,” he muttered. “We’ve got twenty unaccounted for. Some of them may still be trying to get here.”

  Twenty out of about a hundred. Carmen nodded in understanding. “Get something to eat. What can I do?”

  “Help watch the streets. We need as much warning as possible if any of the enemy show up around here.”

  “Got it. Eat something,” she repeated.

  Carmen found the lobby security desk and activated the exterior cameras using the building’s backup-power batteries. She sat watching, but no enemies appeared. The exterior mics did pick up noise, though. The sounds of fighting elsewhere in the city, the roar of warbirds or shuttles passing overhead, and sometimes between those noises the deceptive quiet that made the empty streets seem peaceful.

  Dominic found her still there. “We’ve got orders to head for the park in front of the opera house.”

  “A park? Out in the open?”

  “It’s full of trees and low stone walls. Sort of a maze with overhead cover. I don’t know how long we’ll be there.”

  The unit moved through the streets in quick rushes, watching for trouble but encountering none until they reached the safety of the park’s cover. “Post guards,” Dominic told his platoon leaders. “Four per platoon, rotate them every two hours. Make sure everybody else gets as much rest as they can. I was told we might try to retake part of the east warehouse district.”

  “How are things going?” Dominic asked Carmen as they sat down in the grass next to one of the low walls. “How much of the city is under enemy control?”

  She shook her head. “It’s hard to tell. Everything’s confused. Both sides are jamming every signal they can, every one of our satellites has been knocked down, and we can’t risk our remaining warbirds on reconnaissance missions. We can still use landlines as long as the enemy hasn’t cut them or tapped in to them. From what remains of our intelligence capability, about all I’ve seen for certain is that there’s still fighting going on around the government complex.”

  As she talked, Dominic had been chewing mechanically on the food bar she had given him. “Why?” he asked after swallowing. “There’s no government there. They evacuated days ago.”

  “It’s the symbolism,” Carmen explained. “Strange thing to die for, huh? The symbolism of buildings that no longer contain anything. I saw that on Mars. Certain old buildings, old sites that had held government functions in the old days, were fought over all the time. Some of them were just piles of rubble. But lives were still sacrificed over being able to claim control of that rubble. Domi, the situation is confused as all hell, but I think we’re holding our own. We might be winning.”

  “Winning.” Dominic sat back against the wall, gazing up at the stars beginning to appear between the leaves of the trees as the sky darkened into night. “Winning here won’t be enough, will it? A few years back Scatha tried to invade Glenlyon, and got kicked out of the star system. I was like most people, I guess, thinking, good, they learned their lesson. They won’t try that again.”

  “Wishful thinking,” Carmen murmured.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Scatha just got some friends and built up their forces and came at us and Glenlyon in a different way. If we beat them here, no matter how badly we beat them, they’ll just come back again someday, won’t they? It’s not enough to stop their attacks. We’re going to have to take the fight to them. Show them they can’t keep attacking others while they and their own star systems stay safe.”

  She nodded slowly, looking at the pain and weariness graven on his face like some ancient statue bearing the marks of time. “It’s looking like that, isn’t it? We can’t stay on defense.” Carmen followed Dominic’s gaze upward to the stars multiplying in number and growing more brilliant in the darkening skies. “Their plan here should have worked. Wear us down, isolate us, make sure Glenlyon had nothing to spare for us, take out Shark, then come in with three-to-one superiority against our one remaining warship. They should have succeeded, Domi. This invasion should have been covered by three warships in low orbit. Scatha, Apulu, and Turan had it all figured out because we gave them the time and the opportunity to do that. If Glenlyon’s ship hadn’t shown up and helped, we’d be halfway to defeated on this planet already. And there was no reason to expect Glenlyon to send that ship.”

  Dominic nodded as well. “We got lucky, or someone on Glenlyon got smarter than any of us deserve. Did you say you know that guy? The commander of Glenlyon’s ship?”

  “Rob Geary. Sort of. I know a friend of his, Mele Darcy, and I only know her because Lochan met her on their way down and out and they got to be friends.”

  “The people you know are good to have as friends,” Dominic said, smiling slightly. “Lochan made it out okay? I never got a chance to ask.”

  “Yes. The ship he was on jumped safely for Tantalus. If anyone can get help for us from other star systems, he will.”

  “I hope you’re right, Red.” Dominic finally looked at her, his smile growing affectionate. “Thanks. I’m pretty sure you saved my life at least once today. I’m glad Lochan is out of this.”

  Carmen nodded, smiling back at him. “Lochan was worried about Mele, but she’s probably the safest of us all right now. I’ll bet she’s in a bar somewhere having a good time.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Mele ducked as a burst of solid slugs tore along a shelf near her, shattering heavy glassware and hurling shards in all directions. A rain made up of droplets of expensive booze splattered her, Giddings, and Lamar.

  “Monsters!” Giddings complained. “Who does that to good scotch?”

  “Just get me a clean signal!” Mele ordered, trying to sort out where the enemy forces were. The attackers were trying to jam the defenders’ links but with only partial success.

  “I’ve almost—There! Got a strong link, Captain.”

  Mele’s display steadied out, displaying red markers where enemy movement had been detected. There were a lot of red markers in the two corridors she could see, and more were joining them as continuing fire raked the bar.

  The oddly named Buffalo Grass Bar sat at an intersection of two main routes through the facility, opening out into both before they diverged again beyond the bar. That made it a good spot from which to cover both routes. It also made it a really good target once the attackers figured out Mele and her fellow Marines were holed up there, trying to buy time for the militia who had survived earlier attacks to re-form and set up new defensive positions.

  The assault had been by the book, the enemy shuttles coming in screened by the bulk of the facility from fire by either Shark or Saber. But Rob Geary had managed to get Saber into position to nail one of the shuttles despite the efforts by the remaining enemy destroyer to keep Saber tied down protecting Shark.

  Before the shuttles had dropped off their occupants, the single aerospace warbird escorting them had torn up the areas of the facility facing them to take out any defenders there. Fortunately, Brazos had paid attention to that part of the book as well and kept his forward militia forces far enough back to be safe as the warbird fired everything it had.

  The by-the-book attackers had come swarming down the primary routes into the station, aiming to overrun the defenders fast, and ran into the by-the-book defenses set up by Brazos. Mele had watched the first engagement play out on her display, trying to remain dispassionate as friendly markers winked out and the forward militia platoons fell apart under the attack by greatly superior numbers with better weapons and equipment.

  She’d already chosen this bar as the point where her part of the Marine force would halt the enemy advance. Corporal Gamba had been sent with the remaining two Marines to block a third corridor.

  Watching the movement of the red markers on her display, Mele sensed the next assault
building. “Grenades,” she told Giddings and Lamar. “Prime ’em.”

  The incoming fire abruptly grew in volume as the attackers charged.

  “Let them have it!” Mele ordered, pitching her grenade into the corridor nearest her as the other two tossed theirs down the other. The roar of the resulting explosions hadn’t faded when Mele reared up from behind the barricade formed by the bar and began firing. Her mind stayed cold and sharp as she centered her sights on an enemy, fired, and shifted to a new target. “Lamar! They’re trying to get past on my left!”

  “On it!”

  Mele heard Lamar scrambling past behind her, but stayed focused on her front, firing with enough speed and precision to throw back an attack already disrupted by the grenades.

  She knelt behind cover and recharged her weapon as the attackers fell back. “Report.”

  “Good on this side,” Giddings called in, sounding breathless but fine. “They’re pushing hard, Captain.”

  “Yeah. Lamar?”

  “Um . . .” Lamar’s voice came across the circuit, high-pitched with pain. “I stopped two of them trying to get past, but also stopped something with my leg. Oh, man. Hurt.”

  “Giddings, get over to Lamar. I’ll watch our front.” Mele waited, tense, for Giddings to report in again. “Gamba, how are things where you are?”

  “We held them,” Gamba said, sounding unnaturally calm. “But I don’t think we can hold them much longer.”

  “Understood,” Mele said, peering through the murk of chaff grenades in search of more enemies. On her display, she could see that the militia’s retreat had halted at the next set of defenses.

  She could also see the location of the booby-trapped grain compartments, between her Marines and where the militia now was. “Yoshida, are those compartments ready to blow?”

  “Yes, Captain. Just give the word.”

  “You’re going to have a very short count,” Mele warned. “When we pull back they’re going to be right on our heels.”

  “Captain?” Giddings said. “I got a big battle patch on Lamar, but she’s not doing any walking or running. Her left leg’s a mess.”

  “Can you carry her?”

  “Sure.”

  “Get going. Take her back to the next militia position.”

  “But—”

  “Go!” Mele paused to fire into the cloud of countermeasures slowly drifting across the corridors in front of the bar. “Gamba—”

  “I got movement! They’re coming again, Captain!”

  “Expend all your remaining grenades and get back as far as the closest militia position! Yoshida! Stand by to blow those compartments!” Mele primed her last two remaining grenades, waiting as sudden motion appeared in the murk before her. She tossed both, crouching as they detonated with blasts that shook the corridor. The moment the explosions ebbed she leapt up and ran, chasing after Giddings and Lamar.

  Shots rang out behind her, solid slugs and energy bursts whipping past as Mele crouched and dodged and ran.

  But she kept her eyes on the building schematic on her display, measuring her distance to the grain compartments. She was above them, then just past them, the enemy fire growing heavier and more accurate by the moment. Red threat markers filled the corridor behind her. “Now, Yoshida!”

  “You’re too close, Captain!”

  “I said now!”

  A shot skipped off the upper edge of her shoulder armor, staggering Mele, just before the world behind her blew up.

  CHAPTER 10

  The overpressure from the exploding grain dust burst the compartments and tore through surrounding areas in a wave of destruction, ripping apart floors, walls, and ceilings and turning their fragments into deadly projectiles.

  The shock wave hit Mele in the back, hurling her forward. She went into a tumble to break her fall, trying to stay low so none of the shrapnel bouncing off the surviving nearby structure would hit her.

  She paused, trying to catch her breath, her arms shaking, trying to figure out if any parts of her had been hit. Air was rushing past as the atmosphere left in this part of the facility vented through the holes torn by the blasts, making it harder to focus her impact-rattled brain. But aside from an ache in her back where the shock wave had probably planted a massive bruise she seemed to be intact.

  The buzzing in her ears resolved into frantic calls. “Captain? Captain!”

  “Here,” Mele said. She got to her feet, grimacing at the effort, and looked back at the mass of wreckage behind her. “I’m okay. You guys?”

  “We’re all with militia units, Captain.”

  It was Giddings calling, Mele realized. “I’ll be with you soon.”

  She started moving down the corridor, wincing, picking up speed as she moved. By the time she reached a wide-open area where three corridors met Mele thought she was moving almost normally.

  Hands waved her toward an improvised barricade at the far side of the area. There she found more than a dozen militia, as well as Giddings and Lamar. The militia were posted along the barricade, while Giddings was a short distance behind, kneeling beside Lamar as he checked her injury.

  “What was that?” someone asked Mele.

  She turned to see a man with lieutenant insignia and anxious eyes. “The compartments for grain storage blew. I, um, guess that’s what happened.”

  “How did they—? Never mind. They took maybe thirty or forty of the enemy with them,” the lieutenant said. “And stopped their attack cold.”

  “Good,” Mele said, trying to decide whether to sit down or not. Uncertain whether she’d be able to stand up quickly again, she elected to remain standing. “What are your orders?”

  The lieutenant gazed back at her, his distress growing.

  “Your orders,” Mele prompted. “What has Major Brazos told you to do now?”

  “Major Brazos . . .” The lieutenant gestured back toward the areas now held by the enemy. “He was up front, at the forward defensive positions. We haven’t heard . . . he told the people with him to fall back, and he’d cover them. We think . . . we think he’s dead. Holding off the enemy.”

  Mele barely held back uttering one of her most vicious curses. “Dead?”

  “We think . . .”

  “Who’s in command now?” The militia officer gazed back at her blankly. “Lieutenant! Who is in command of Kosatka’s militia forces on this facility?”

  “We don’t know,” he replied, sounding helpless.

  “How can you not know?” Mele demanded, making an effort to calm herself. “Who’s the senior surviving officer?”

  “All of us! There’re three lieutenants, and we all got our militia appointments at the same time.”

  Mele slumped back against the nearest wall. “Call Commander Derian on the Shark. Ask him to designate one of you as the militia commander.”

  “Yeah! Good idea!” Happy to be given clear instructions on what to do, the lieutenant hunched over, speaking rapidly into a comm link, but after a few moments turned to Mele again. “Commander Derian wants to talk to you privately, Captain.”

  “Me?” Mele exhaled heavily in frustration before clicking on the proper circuit. “Captain Darcy here, sir.”

  Derian replied in tones so heavy that each word seemed to have extra weight. “Captain, we have a problem.”

  “We do?” Mele couldn’t help replying.

  “Major Brazos died valiantly—”

  “Major Brazos chickened out,” Mele replied, her anger boiling over. “He knew he wasn’t suited to command this defense. That’s why he gave me so much trouble. And that’s why, when the fight began, he went to the farthest forward position he could so he could do what he knew how to do, die valiantly! And leave his soldiers without a commander!”

  Derian paused before replying. “I understand.”

  “He’ll be reme
mbered as a hero but he left his people in the lurch,” Mele finished bitterly. “Now that I’ve vented I won’t say that again. Please excuse my candor, sir.”

  “I understand,” Derian repeated. “Here’s the problem. I’ve got three lieutenants who could command the militia. None of them are suited for it.”

  “Sir—”

  “Listen to me, Captain Darcy! I can tell when someone lacks confidence in themselves. Those three lieutenants got rank pinned on them along with a lot of responsibility, but they don’t have the training or experience to command combat troops. They know it, and the rest of the militia knows it.”

  Mele did her best to rein in her temper again. “Commander, with all due respect, those three lieutenants are all you’ve got.”

  “No. I’ve also got you.”

  “I can’t be placed in command of Kosatka forces!” Mele almost yelled in reply. “I have no legal basis to give them orders!”

  “I’m the senior surviving officer of Kosatka’s forces on this facility!” Derian yelled back. “As such, I invoke emergency powers and place the remaining Kosatka militia aboard this facility under your command, Captain! And if the government of Kosatka disagrees with my decision, assuming a government of Kosatka still exists, and assuming that government continues to exist, they can take it up with me after this is over! I will save my ship and crew, Captain! And that means I need you to hold off those attackers!”

  Mele stared at nothing as she thought.

  Derian spoke again, his voice calmer, but insistent. “And if you need a personal incentive to take command, Captain Darcy, I think you’ll agree with me that unless you do so, the odds of you and your Marines surviving this engagement are too small to measure.”