Ascendant
Page 22
Still slumped against the wall, Mele looked over the militia, reading their body language. It wasn’t only the lieutenants who lacked confidence in themselves. “They have to accept me,” Mele said, knowing that was a weak comeback. “They have to be willing to take orders from me.”
“Ask them,” Derian said. “Thank you, Captain.”
“Just get that damned ship of yours fixed!” Mele snapped in reply. “Sir!”
She ended the call and turned to the lieutenant, who was waiting with obvious concern. “Commander Derian has appointed me your commander,” Mele said.
The reaction startled her. The lieutenant’s eyes lit with hope, and he straightened as if given renewed strength. “You’re in command? Can I—? May I inform the troops, Captain?”
“Yeah,” Mele said, calling up all the information her display had on the militia positions. “Gamba, how are the militia where you are?”
“Shaky,” Corporal Gamba replied. “Hold on. Something’s happening. They’re showing a lot more confidence. Buckland, ask them— What? Captain Darcy? You’re in overall command now?”
“I guess so.” Mele forced herself out of her slump, seeing the militia near her looking far more ready to fight. Intangibles. You could calculate weapons and numbers and supplies and distances, but those didn’t always win battles. “Fighting spirit” didn’t always win battles, either, though coupled with poor leadership it could produce massive friendly losses. But soldiers without confidence in those leading them didn’t win many fights, and these militia seemed to have confidence in her. Like that Old Earth guy Sun Tzu had said: “Because such a general regards his men as infants they will march with him into the deepest valleys. He treats them as his own beloved sons . . .
. . . and they will die with him.”
“Listen up!” Mele said over the command circuit. “We’ve been hurt, but we’ve hurt them worse. We stopped them once, and we can stop them again. As we get closer to the dock area, the available approach routes for the enemy are going to neck down so we have to defend fewer spots. Give me all you’ve got and we’ll kick these scum all the way back to Apulu!”
Switching to another part of the circuit, she spoke to the three lieutenants in charge of what were now the farthest forward militia positions. “Send out scouts to see how many routes are blocked by damage from those blasts. We need to know which routes are still open because the enemy is looking for those as well. If you’ve got any portable surveillance devices, plant them in the open routes and link them to the command net.”
Mele spent another moment looking over the situation on her display, her eyes lingering on the final defensive positions just short of the dock area. If the enemy got that far, those militia would have to hold no matter how many losses Mele, her Marines, and the other militia had already suffered.
There was something she could do about that.
Walking back to where Giddings was still fussing over Lamar, Mele gestured toward the lieutenant. “Get with him and make sure I have full access to what’s left of the command net. Then see if you can break into the enemy net.”
Giddings straightened up, saluting quickly. “I’ve done everything I can for Private Lamar, Captain.”
“Thanks, Glitch,” Lamar called up to him.
As Giddings hastened over to the lieutenant, Mele knelt by Lamar, studying the wounded private. Her left leg was sealed into a full-limb battle bandage that had hardened into a cast. There was still atmosphere here, so Lamar’s faceplate hung open, revealing her strained face with beads of sweat spotting it. “How you doing, Marine?”
“Okay,” Lamar said, the gasp in the single word robbing it of its intended meaning. “I just got some more pain meds. Be ready for action in a minute.”
“Good. I’ve got a job for you,” Mele said. “Back toward the dock.”
Lamar shook her head stubbornly. “Captain, I can still fight. I should stay up here with the rest of you.”
“You can still fight,” Mele agreed. “What you can’t do is run. Which makes you perfect for this job. I’m going to have a couple of the militia get you back—”
“Captain—!”
“Shut up. Back to this final defensive position. See? A squad of militia holding the area just short of the dock where that broke-butt warship is sitting. You’re going there. If the fight reaches you, and I’m not there and Gamba and Giddings and Yoshida and Buckland aren’t there, it’s going to be up to you to stiffen the spines of those militia and make sure that position holds until the Shark gets away.”
Lamar blinked at Mele, confused, then with growing understanding. “You mean if I’m the last Marine left, I need to make sure those militia hold?”
“Yeah. Show ’em how it’s done.”
“But . . . Captain, I’m just a private.”
“You’re a Marine. Which means you get the job done and done right.” Mele studied Lamar, wondering if she’d be up to the task. “Understand?”
A pause, then Lamar nodded. “Yes, Captain. I understand.”
“You’ll show those militia how to hold their ground.”
“I’ll show them.”
“Good.” Mele stood up. “And you get to be carried there, so that’s a bonus.”
“I always like to arrive in style,” Lamar said, grinning. The expression was too anxious, too tight with worry and the pain getting past the meds, but also laced with determination. “I won’t let you down. Not any of the others, either.”
Mele waited impatiently, not knowing how much time she had before the enemy regrouped, while a couple of militia members ran up with a mobile med bed and hoisted Lamar onto it. She gave Lamar an encouraging wave as the private was taken back toward the dock area.
The rest of the Marines took the news of Lamar’s new assignment stoically. All except for Yoshida, whose grumble carried easily across the comm circuit. “She owes me a twenty I lent her until next payday.”
“Maybe she’ll survive and be able to pay you back,” Giddings said.
“Yeah,” Yoshida said, cheering up.
“Yoshida,” Mele said, “have you found anything else in this facility that will blow up on command?”
“No, Captain,” Yoshida said, sounding annoyed this time. “They seem to have off-loaded everything useful over the last week.”
“That’s bad,” Gamba commented. “The grain dust explosions saved us back there.”
“There’s a good part,” Mele reminded them. “The enemy doesn’t know we don’t have any more big explosions ready and waiting for them. They lost a good number of people when the grain compartments blew. They’ll be worried that more traps like that have been set up.”
“Which means they’ll advance more cautiously,” Giddings said. “Right?”
“Right. They’re going to be more cautious, slower to follow up when we pull back, and spend more time checking out areas before they enter them. That’s all good for us.”
“Captain?” Yoshida said, sounding worried. “You meant anything that could blow up except the fuel cells, right?”
“The fuel cells?” Mele asked.
“There’s a bunch located in secure storage near the dock. To refuel ships.”
“Those make a really big bang when they blow, right? Why did you think I wouldn’t want to know about those?”
“Because,” Yoshida explained, “if we blow the fuel cells, they’ll take this whole facility with them. They’d blow it all into really little pieces. And everyone on it would be blown into little pieces, too.”
“Like us?” Giddings asked.
“We can’t control it?” Mele said. “Like, blow one cell or part of one fuel cell?”
“No, Captain,” Yoshida said. “If you disrupt a fuel cell, the whole thing goes. And if we set off one, it’d probably cause the others nearby to blow as well.”
Gamb
a’s words came out with careful precision, as if she wanted to ensure there was no chance of anything being misheard. “So blowing fuel cells would be a very bad idea.”
“Here it would be, yes,” Yoshida agreed. “It would also be the last very bad idea of whoever did it. Guaranteed.”
“Okay,” Mele said. “Understood. We don’t blow the fuel cells.” But inside she was wondering what to do if defeat was inevitable, if the enemy was about to seize the facility and Shark. Wouldn’t it make sense then to trigger a detonation of those cells as a last dying gesture to ensure that the enemy didn’t profit from their triumph? Should she . . . ?
Was that the sort of legacy she’d want to leave her Marines who were still at Glenlyon? Not just giving their all to win but accepting certain death if they lost? Did she want Marines following that example in the future, committing grand suicidal gestures rather than surrender?
Hell, she already didn’t like the idea. Suppose she went through with it and people decided to do the same thing because she’d established that precedent? How many would refuse surrender and fight to the death, senselessly, because Mele Darcy had done the same thing even though she hadn’t really?
Mele looked around at those with her, realizing that it was one thing to demand their best of people, because that would not only give the best chance of success but also the best chance of them living through the fight. But it was a very different thing to demand their deaths. That was a step she wouldn’t take. None of that victory or death garbage. The dead couldn’t win the next fight. What had that Clausewitz guy called it? Husbanding resources. As in don’t waste the lives of your own troops.
“Captain?”
Mele realized that she’d been lost in thought for long enough to worry her Marines. “Sorry. I was thinking. Listen up. My reaction force plan didn’t work. There aren’t enough of us. We need to disperse among the militia to stiffen them. I’m staying with this bunch along with Giddings. Gamba, you take that group on the far right of our positions. Buckland and Yoshida, I want you to stay with the group you’re in.”
Mele paused, knowing her next words had to be phrased right. “All of the militia are going to be looking to you. The officers, too. Yeah, you’re corporals and privates, but you’re all veterans of years of service. You’re used to someone else telling you what to do when the bubble breaks, but now you have to be that someone and let the militia know what you think should be done. I’m going to be monitoring as much as I can, and giving you orders when necessary, but if I’m out of loop because of jamming, you make the calls for what to do. Use your heads, remember your training, and remember that these people are looking to you for examples and hope. Gamba, if I’m cut off and you’re still linked in, give the orders you think are right. If Gamba is cut off, Giddings takes over. Any questions?”
“Why did I volunteer for this?” Giddings asked, causing laughter from the others.
“Find out what the scouts are reporting back to the militia lieutenants with you,” Mele ordered. “Giddings, get me into the enemy net. I want to know what they’re doing and where they are.”
“Captain?” Mele turned as the lieutenant approached her. “I’ve got something that’s probably important.”
“What is it?” Mele asked. “What’s your name?”
“Freeman. Lieutenant John Freeman, Kosatka Defense Militia,” he replied. “Um, we’ve got some good code monkeys in this group, and they were looking at what we were picking up of the enemy signals before the explosions.” Freeman pointed to data on his pad. “See here? They’re thinking this node indicates the enemy commander was there, and this other one maybe the second-in-command since it seemed to be mirroring the commander’s signals.”
Mele studied the images with growing hope. “Those were both inside the blast zones. They were leading from the front.”
“We’re thinking maybe one of them, maybe both, got killed.”
“You might be right. That’d explain why they’re taking awhile to resume the attack. Whoever is third in line is trying to figure out what happened and trying to assume command.” Mele paused as her helmet display updated, the schematics of the station taking on numerous damage markers. “I’m getting some of the reports the scouts are sending back. Good.”
“Captain, do you think we can do this?”
Mele focused on Freeman, knowing her next words would be important. “Hell, yes, we can do this. You and your soldiers are equal to this challenge.”
“Thank you.” Freeman smiled, saluted, and went off to talk to his fellow militia.
Damn, I’m a good liar, Mele thought to herself, as Giddings called in.
“Captain, I got a few snapshots of the enemy net before they closed me out. Here they are.”
Mele examined them, unhappy with the number of remaining enemy soldiers shown. But the casualty count was gratifyingly high and might limit the enthusiasm of the enemy to keep pushing the attack. And the enemy force was still clearly disorganized and trying to re-form after the grain compartment blasts that had torn up both the leading elements of the enemy force and substantial parts of the facility they now occupied.
Unfortunately, there didn’t seem a lot else she could do at this point but try to spot new attacks developing and try to stop them, or at least hold them up as long as possible. “Lieutenant Freeman, can you give me a comm link to the Saber? I ought to report in while I have a chance.”
“Oh, sure, Captain. We should be able to run a link through Shark. Hold on. Yeah. Circuit six.”
“Thanks.” Mele switched over to six. “Saber, this is Captain Darcy. Is Commodore Geary available?”
Geary himself responded. “I’m glad to hear from you. How are you doing, Mele?”
“I’m not dead yet.”
“We worried when we saw a big chunk of that facility blow out. Was that your work?”
“Maybe. It slowed down the bad guys pretty good. How’s life in the fleet?”
Rob Geary sounded frustrated. “The good news is that the Bruce Monroe made it to the jump point for Tantalus and is on her way to find help for us. Otherwise, we’re stuck here keeping that enemy destroyer off Shark. The only good part of that is the enemy warship is tied up tying us up, so they can’t support any other part of the invasion. From what we could see, the initial invasion drop lost a lot of shuttles to the defenders. Those losses wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if enemy warships had been covering the invasion force from low orbit.”
“So you are accomplishing something.”
“Yeah. But I wish we could do a lot more. Shark will be ready in only another twenty-three hours, but that’s a very long time under current circumstances. How are you and Commander Derian getting along?”
“We may get married when this is over,” Mele said, unable to resist.
“What?”
“Kidding. He’s in charge. He put me in charge of the militia.”
“Kosatka’s militia? He can do that?” Rob asked.
“He says he can, and he made some compelling arguments for why I should agree,” Mele said. “Once I did, he gave me an impossible job to do. Sort of a pattern for me. I need to change how I look for bosses.”
“Sorry about that,” Rob said. “Why do you keep looking for that kind of boss?”
“I don’t know. Maybe there’s a reason why Marine and masochist both start with m.”
“Good luck, Mele.”
“Same. Out.” She took a moment to mentally regroup, then turned to Lieutenant Freeman. “All right. The scouts are spotting the routes the enemy will have to use to move forward. Let’s set up some forward firing positions to hit them as soon as they stick their noses out. It’ll take them awhile to realize we’re not holding any spot near the wreckage in strength.”
“Should we move everyone forward?” Freeman asked, gazing at the schematic of damage to the facility.
“Oh. Yeah. So, two-person teams for the forward positions?”
“Right,” Mele said, pleased that Freeman was listening and learning. “Let me get the other two lieutenants going on this as well. Send some of your people to cover these three spots.”
“How will they know when to fall back?” Freeman asked, anxious again at the thought of some of his militia being trapped.
“I’ll make that call,” Mele said.
“Then I know they’ll be okay,” Freeman said, turning to get his teams sent forward, pausing to turn back and salute before rushing off.
Wondering how long it would take messy reality to tarnish Freeman’s total confidence in her, Mele talked to the other militia commanders and got things moving. It would have been nice to sit down and rest after that, but her bruised back was threatening to stiffen up so Mele had to keep walking and stretching.
“We’re getting an increase in enemy net traffic,” Freeman called to her.
“They’re getting ready to move,” Mele told him, alerting the other lieutenants.
She checked the time. Twenty-two and a half hours left. Less than a day. But it looked like it was going to be a very long less than a day.
* * *
• • •
Carmen was roused before dawn by one of the soldiers who was going from person to person waking them. The stars above the darkened city were still clearly visible in the small patches of sky that could be seen between the branches and leaves of the trees in the park. She caught a glimpse of a small, oddly regular constellation of unfamiliar stars and realized it must be the enemy ships in orbit about this planet, illuminated by the sun that hadn’t risen for those on the surface.
“We’re moving out in half an hour,” Dominic told her when she joined him. “Headquarters is trying to set up a counterattack in the government district.”