“The ARC program was successful,” Jakobson said.
“From a certain point of view,” Sinclare argued. “But unfortunately Lieutenant Murphy is the only member of her platoon able to utilize the technology.”
“What are you driving at, Allison?” Jennings said.
“I think we need proven operators in those suits,” Sinclare stated.
“Cashman’s team is the best of the best,” Fuller replied.
“At close quarters combat, perhaps,” Sinclare went on. “But they are not utilizing the ARC suits at even half of the hardware’s capacity. We should pull them; get some experienced pilots in them.”
“That isn’t really feasible,” Jakobson said. “The ARC suits are custom fit for each person.”
“I find that a little hard to believe,” Sinclare said. “We’ll find the right people.”
“There’s no need,” Jennings said. “The next batch of suits are ready now. We just need pilots.”
“So the decision is made?” Fuller said. “You’re snatching the ARC program from my command?”
“You’re people had their chance,” Sinclare said. “They dropped the ball.”
Angel stiffened and started to speak up but Jakobson put a hand on her shoulder. When she turned he shook his head slightly. It wasn’t a strong gesture, but she decided to hold her tongue.
“I honestly don’t think we need to waste more money on the ARC program,” Sinclare said. “We have the best people in the service dissecting the aliens. We’ll know their weaknesses soon, and we’ll be able to bring more conventional weapons to bear.”
“We can’t risk that,” Jennings said. “The memo we have leads me to believe the intelligence we’ll gain from the fallen aliens is limited. There are also reports of Swarm activity on two other colony worlds. We need effective personnel in those systems.”
“Let my special forces teams have the suits,” Fuller argued. “We’re the best people for the job.”
“Not true,” Sinclare said.
“You’re people are skilled pilots. No one would argue that,” the Marine Corps Commandant continued. “But will they close with the enemy? Will they run straight into the Swarm and do what it takes to disrupt the hive? My people are proven operators; fearless, self-sacrificing.”
“Your people have proven that they don’t have what it takes,” Sinclare said. “They can’t operate the technology.”
Once more Angel had to bite her tongue. It was true that Cashman and his fire squad had trouble doing what Angel was capable of in the ARC suits, but that didn’t mean they weren’t effective. She had seen them moving at incredibly fast speeds over difficult terrain, while taking the fight to the enemy. She had hoped that their next battle would prove even more successful, but she wasn’t sure she would even get a chance to face the Swarm again.
Fleet Admiral Jennings was the ranking officer, and officially the Commander In Chief of the CSF. He cleared his throat and the other two officers fell silent.
“Six ARC suits are ready to be fit with operators. I’m giving this squad to the Air Force. Sinclare. Send your best pilots and anyone with gymnastic experience. They will join Lieutenant Murphy’s platoon for training.”
“Sir, all of my pilots will outrank Second Lieutenant Murphy. You can’t expect them to take orders from her,” Sinclare said.
Angel’s blood was starting to boil, but Jakobson had a hand on her arm and clearly didn’t want her to interject.
“She’s the most qualified person in the CSF,” Fuller said. “If rank is an issue, I’ll give her a field promotion right now.”
“There’s no need for that,” Jennings said. “Lieutenant Murphy will be in charge of the training, but Sinclare’s officers will have command in the field. The platoon is already a mixed branch assignment. All of our people are accustomed to working together. This is no exception. I want the entire group headed back to Neo Terra within seventy-two hours. We need to mop up the survivors on Neo Terra, then dispatch to Alpha One. We all know what’s at stake here, people. Let’s not get lost in the weeds. The enemy is out there and we must rise to meet it. This session is adjourned.”
4
Fleet Operations Command Station
Mars Orbit, Sol System
“What was that?” Angel asked, as Colonel Jakobson escorted her from the room.
“That, Lieutenant, is the push-and-pull of power inside the CSF.”
He led her to a small office and waved her to a chair that was bolted to the floor. He sat down behind an empty desk. There were no decorations on the walls, and the built in shelves were empty. At first she thought they had ducked into an unused office, but Colonel Jakobson pressed a button to activate the desk’s intercom.
“I don’t want to be disturbed for a while,” he said.
“Yes, Colonel,” came a snappy voice that Angel recognized.
“Was that Wendy?” Angel asked.
“That was Captain Wendy McManus. It’s best to stay formal here in the Command Station. There are ears everywhere and it’s best you play your cards close to the vest.”
“My cards?” Angel said. “I didn’t even know I was in the game.”
“Oh, you are very much in the game. I recruited you for a purpose, Lieutenant. You have exceeded my highest hopes. Your victory on Neo Terra has made you the hot commodity for the moment. Popularity in the halls of power is fickle, and not aways a good thing. But for the moment, imagine that you are playing chess. If a pawn gets to your opponent’s back rank it can become any piece, including a queen. Your action on Neo Terra has set you apart from the other pieces on this particular board, and everyone wants to control what you become.”
“I don’t think I understand,” Angel said, frowning.
“Take for instance the ARC suit, which at the moment you are the undisputed master of. Is it Marine, or Navy, or Air Force tech? Should the suits being produced be assigned to just one branch of service?”
“I thought they were for Marines,” Angel said.
“And so they were. Marshal General Allison Sinclare had no problem with that until you proved how valuable the suits really are. Now, she’s fighting tooth and nail to gain control of the ARC technology.”
“But why?” Angel asked. “Aren’t we all on the same team?”
“In theory, but just like any organization, there are factions who long for more power, more control. Ultimately it all comes down to money. The Air Force doesn’t want to be seen as highly skilled taxi drivers. Drones have been a major threat to the relevance of their branch. Children learn to fly drones. The best remote operators are teenagers who learned to fly playing video games and have been recruited by the CSF Navy. The Marines were in a similar position until the Swarm infestation began. Before that, the Navy with their interstellar ships were the belle of the ball. Now everything is up in the air. No one wants to be seen as irrelevant, and it might even be possible to see the Commandant or Marshal General become Commander In Chief. From their point of view, a lot is at stake.”
“I had no idea,” Angel said.
“Of course you didn’t. And to be honest, you are still a pawn hoping to survive the game. I don’t mean that to be rude; I’m simply pointing out that while you are involved, you have very little power of your own. In cases like this, it’s best to listen, learn, and stay focused on the task at hand. You’re still a second lieutenant, and what you want is to get back to your platoon.”
“You’re right. How do I do it?”
“The Fleet Admiral has already ordered you back into the field,” Jakobson said. “You’ll have debriefs for the next several hours. Then I suggest you catch a shuttle down to Bezos City. Lingering here will only tempt the powers that be to cloud your thinking. The last thing you need is to have doubts when you return to combat. I see a bright future for you, Lieutenant, but only if you survive the war.”
“I thought I was at the debrief,” Angel admitted. “Isn’t that why the Command Staff wanted to see me?”
“Oh no,” Jakobson said. “You were a prop in their struggle for power. Captain McManus will escort you to your official debrief. I wanted a word with you first. Do you know Alex Nance? He was a gymnast a few years before you retired.”
“Alex Nance? Sure, I knew of him. We weren’t really friends, but you get to know the competitors from other gyms in your region. He had a bit of a reputation.”
“For what?” Jakobson asked.
“For playing fast and loose with the rules for one thing. He was also said to be a womanizer.”
“He is now Captain Alex Nance, CSF Air Force. My sources tell me he has been tapped to be your counterpart in the ARC program.”
“Oh,” Angel said, surprised by the news. It was hard to imagine that of the entire population of humanity, someone she knew would be joining her in the CSF’s new ARC program.
“Don’t let him get under your skin,” Jakobson said. “His task will be first and foremost, to prove the superiority of the Air Force officers in the ARC suits. You’ll have to work with them, just don’t get drawn into their game. That’s how good officers get killed, Lieutenant, and I don’t want that for you.”
“Thank you, Colonel. But can I ask a question?
“Of course.”
“Why do you care so much about me? You hardly know me?”
“I have a variety of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that I recruited you. As your stock rises in the CSF, so does mine. I won’t lie and pretend that doesn’t matter to me. I have high hopes for you because we have a lot invested in you. And while I’m a Marine Corps Officer, as head of intelligence it’s my job to oversee the health and well being of the entire service. This program is vital to the future of the CSF, and to humanity. My hope is that you will prove equal to the task.”
“Thank you for your honesty, sir,” Angel said.
“I work within the realm of hidden agendas and secret ambitions. Honesty is the highest compliment someone in my profession can give. And you have mine, Lieutenant.”
Wendy McManus stuck her head in the door. “Commandant Fuller is waiting for us.”
“Go on then, Lieutenant. And good luck.”
“Thank you sir,” Angel said as she got to her feet and saluted.
Jakobson returned the salute without standing, and Angel hurried from the room. She felt like the new girl at school, and even though she’d been in the CSF for nearly three months, her mind was still whirling at the constant stream of new experiences. Wendy patted her on the back.
“Time for your first official debrief,” Wendy said. “Don’t get bogged down with the doubts of the officers involved. It’s their job to question your decisions.”
“You make it sound a little intimidating.”
“You’ve been judged in gymnastics, right?”
“Of course,” Angel said.
“This is like that — only the judges don’t just decide if you did the right thing or not; they actually question why you did what you did. They’re trying to get to your motivations, to discover if you made calculated tactical decisions or just got lucky.”
“I see. Is it as grueling as you’re making it out to be?”
“Sometimes, but usually you don’t have to worry unless you failed miserably at something. Colonel Hale will be raked over the coals, but I have a feeling you’ll be whisked through. When you get done, send me a message using your data pad. We’ll get a bite to eat, and if you want to catch a shuttle down to Mars, I’ll see about that too.”
“Thanks... Captain,” Angel said with a smile.
“Hey, we’ve got to stick together, right?”
“Absolutely,” Angel said, relieved to have a friend.
“You’ll be fine. I’ll see you after.”
Angel nodded and turned into a room that was crowded with officers. They parted before her and Angel saw a single chair in the middle of the room. As she slowly approached the seat, she couldn’t help but feel that her debrief was going to be more like an inquisition.
5
Port Gantry, Hoover District,
Neo Terra, Tau Ceti System
“You want in on this, Cash?” Sergeant Gary Bolton asked.
“No, you guys go ahead. I’ve got orders to meet the new Spec. Ops commander.”
The special forces fire team was in a large hanger that had been sectioned off as a makeshift barracks. It was one of many in the little used space port that had been requisitioned for the Marine Forward Operating Base Neo Terra. The four surviving members of his special forces fire team were playing poker in the tiny space littered with their gear are makeshift beds.
“We got a mission, Staff Sergeant?” BJ asked.
“Yeah, my ass is getting sore from all this sitting around,” Van replied.
“We’ll find out, but don’t get your hopes up,” Cash said. “I doubt the brass is dumb enough to risk our lives on a routine patrol.”
“Since when are grunts so valuable?” Hays asked. “Everyone else is getting sent out.”
“We’re the only ones with ARC suits, ya numbskull,” Bolton said.
“Is that why we aren’t getting a new fish to take Ruiz’ place?” Van asked.
“I suppose so,” Cash said.
“Any word from the LT?” BJ inquired.
“Nothing so far. Not that I expect to hear from Lieutenant Murphy anytime soon,” Cash replied.
He tried not to let his disappointment show. His hope had been that Lieutenant Angel Murphy would return quickly, but he knew it was far more likely that she wouldn’t return at all. She was much more valuable in a training role than in the field, but Cash knew that the pressure of combat was where the young officer shined. He hated to admit it, but he also had a soft spot for his commanding officer. She was attractive and intelligent — some might argue too young for Cash — and it was certainly not wise to get involved with one’s CO. Yet Cash couldn’t deny his feelings, nor did he want to. He didn’t have to act on them, but he knew better than to lie to himself about the way he felt.
“I’ll see you meatheads later,” Cash said.
They waved, their attention fixed on the cards that had just been shuffled, as Cash left their small barracks section. Moving through the hanger reminded Cash of some of the colony shanty towns he’d seen. There were a lot of makeshift shelters. Most like his own, were simply walls constructed from shipping pallets to give their space a sense of privacy. Some were small, others larger, but they consisted of the same thing. Marines didn’t carry a lot of personal possessions into combat. He saw packs of gear, weapons, and some contraband that consisted of food, print magazines, candy, and tobacco. The idle Marines were experts at creating makeshift tables, chairs, and finding ways to spend the long hours of monotony as they waited for orders that would give them something useful to do.
He passed groups of Marines doing calisthenics, and others practicing hand to hand combat. Outside he saw even more Marines jogging around a makeshift track that had been outlined around the row of hangers on the edge of the small space port. Cash didn’t know if the Marine Corps attracted a certain type of person, or if their training led to conformity, but the FOB on Neo Terra looked like every other Marine base Cash had ever visited. He crossed the jogging track and made his way between the large, round, landing pads toward the flight tower and admin buildings where the officers were setting up shop. Port Gantry had become the center of the Colonial Space Fleet’s efforts to find and stop the Swarm, and their first engagement had left casualties in the chain of command which had to be filled. The ARC unit was currently without an officer; and because the platoon was made up of men and women from different branches of service, there was no agreement about who was in charge. Luckily, that contention hadn’t led to problems, but if they were called into action they would need a clear leader. Cash hoped he wasn’t going to find out that someone with no ARC experience was going to be put in command.
He was biased. He knew that, but in his mind no one could re
place Lieutenant Murphy. It wasn’t because of her tactical skills, or strategic acumen; but rather the practical knowledge she had of the ARC suit. She was the expert in what was possible with the suits. She not only understood the technology and it’s capabilities, she could perform feats that seemed supernatural even to Cash’s fire team. In his mind, anyone with a firm grasp of the ARC suits’ specifications could outline strategy for the special platoon, but only someone who could operate the ARC suits like Lieutenant Murphy could actually incorporate real-time tactics in a combat situation — not that he expected his opinion to carry much weight with the brass. The chain of command would be repaired using whatever links were available, and Cash would have to deal with it. That was the way life in the CSF Marine Corps. It wasn’t always optimal, but nothing in Cash’s life was perfect. The Marine Corps usually settled for traditional and efficient over optimal in his experience.
Cash found the entrance to the flight tower. The lower section of the building had been converted into the Marine Battalion’s HQ. Staff Sergeant Cashman reported to the lieutenant just outside the communications center.
“I’ll let Captain Reynolds know you’re here,” the man said.
Cash leaned against the wall while he waited and watched the officers hurrying back and forth through the busy corridor. The flight tower had an elevator to service it’s five floors, but none of the Marine officers had time to wait for it. They left the HQ with data pads in hand as they hurried up the concrete staircase. More came down from the floors above, rushing into the communications center. Each one looked serious, as if their business was the most important thing in the Corps at that moment. It was a marked change from the enlisted quarters where the “grunts” were busy playing cards, napping, or working out.
“Staff Sergeant, this way,” Captain Reynolds said, moving quickly down the stairs and into a side room.
Cash followed the Marine Officer into a small room with no windows. There was a metal table and several chairs but neither man sat down. As Cash entered, he saw that Reynolds was studying his data pad.
Battle ARC Page 2
