Munsen shook his head and laughed. “You can quit right now. The Styrahi have enough on you, especially your collaboration with the Tueg, to ride you off Earth on a rail, as my imprints would say. You’ve nearly destroyed their trust in us.” Munsen’s eyes flashed in the dim room. McMasters found it hard to look away.
“What is it you want, Munsen? To be the Chairman of TDF Forces? Some other position of power?”
“I have all the power I need.” Munsen smiled slightly. “What I need now is the proper way of applying that power.”
“Beyond imprinting?”
Munsen nodded, but said nothing. His cards were firmly held against his vest.
McMasters drew a long breath. “I will agree to your terms, Colonel Munsen.” He paused to let the news sink in. “You will, in turn, avail yourself to me outside of typical channels within the TDF. You will report solely to me regarding imprinting and further experimentation. Is that clear?”
Munsen nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I was going to ask for your resignation.” McMasters took a deep breath to say more, but Munsen cut him off.
“You don’t have to ask for it.” Munsen snorted. “I made my choice when I tried to save Tallenaara, sir. I’m through fucking with people’s lives and memories. In one month, I will retire, sir. I’ve already lost three stars for this project. There are other things I want to do, sir. My deputy can handle this project from here. I have other plans in mind.”
“What you’ve done will save a great many lives.”
“No, it will get more killed. We could experiment with memory imprints for a thousand years, and the chances we’d get another imprint like Mairin Shields has would be infinitesimal.”
McMasters nodded. “You’re certain about your resignation?”
“My retirement. There is a difference, sir.” Munsen said. “Thirty-two years is enough.”
“And your other plans?” McMasters asked. “What do you have in mind?”
“Right now? Saving Libretto. After I retire, we’ll speak again.”
“Indeed,” McMasters said and watched silently as Munsen turned and walked away. The man’s shoulders were straight and strong, not bowed by the weight of his duty. He’d tried to save a woman and her lover, and only been partially successful. McMasters wondered if he could ever be that noble and knew the answer before he could raise the vodka to his lips.
I murdered the only man who was truly my friend. McMasters grimaced at the thought. Was it worth it?
* * * * *
Fifty-Six
All of the Ticonderoga’s drop iterations finished on schedule. All combat elements deployed forward with the lead elements passing through atmospheric interface on their way to the ground. All forty-eight Rhinos completed their exospheric deliveries and began to marshall for recovery. Garrett observed the normal flight operations with satisfaction, but could not keep himself from continuing to check the combat scans. “Sir, first drops complete,” he reported to Admiral Nather. “Ground forces secure, lead elements are three minutes from landing. No losses at the present time.”
Nather nodded but kept his gaze on the curving forward viewscreen. “We have a position fix on their orbital platform yet?”
“We’ll pass at conjunction in sixteen minutes. They’ll pass about forty kilometers overhead. Tactical engagement time will be limited to seven minutes this pass.” Garrett cued the tactical display. “Four CAP squadrons are orbiting us at seventy-five kilometers.” The combat air patrol would provide early warning and with luck would take out a few of the Grey fighters before they’d beat feet for the safety of the Ticonderoga battle group.
“Just one Jack?” Nather asked. The triple intersecting octahedrons of the Grey attack platforms didn’t have an official name, however their resemblance to the childhood toy stuck.
Garrett nodded. “So far. The Greys have too many forces on the ground to have come from one platform. I’d venture to guess they have two more platforms, but not here. They’re close enough to reach out and touch us, though.”
Nather keyed his console and spoke quietly. “This is the Admiral.” The 1-MC rang out across the Ticonderoga and to the vessels of the battle group in real time. “Secure for nightside operations. General quarters. Gun crews to stations. Good hunting, and God protect us all.”
Garrett relayed commands to his deployed aircraft. “Sir, Bay Nine is clear for operations.”
Nather looked up at Garrett with the touch of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “And what do you suggest we do with those troops?”
Garrett cued the ground tactical command visuals. “Sir, TDF forces are still eight minutes away, and we have operational oversight of the forces in Bay Nine. The current situation on the ground is as follows.” Garrett cued the display and showed the western edge of the domed remains of Libretto City and roughly one hundred kilometers of the surround terrain. “Sir, the Third Tank Regiment, under the command of Colonel Coffey, has taken up a key terrain position along this ridgeline approximately seventy kilometers from the edge of Libretto City. There are currently significant Grey units to his north and south. The enemy forces to the north are not dug in and appear to be waiting for movement. Their current disposition doesn’t hint to a particular target. On the contrary, the forces to the south are clearly intent to attack Coffey’s position from the south. If those forces from the south attack Coffey, the most dangerous course of action would be that the forces to Coffey’s north would attack as well, leaving Coffey surrounded and most likely surrendering the key terrain.”
Nather squinted. “What’s so special about the terrain, Don? Just its elevation?”
“Yes, sir. It’s the highest terrain in the sector and would provide an excellent firing position for artillery. What I’m more concerned about is there are faint infrared signatures in a line from Libretto City heading southwest immediately under the ridgeline. Some type of machinery I’d imagine. The sources are scattered roughly every fifty kilometers. There’s an exceptionally faint position approximately fifteen kilometers from Libretto City and another more significant position about fifteen hundred meters from Coffey’s eastern flank.”
“Any information on them from Intel?”
“Most likely pumping stations for an aquifer.” Garrett shrugged. “Considering water to be a resource on the surface, it could be part of the Grey’s plan to disrupt it and siege the forces attempting to hold Libretto City.”
“Deploying the cavalry?”
Garrett pointed to the faint infrared signal. “Right here. Our pathfinders are dropping from the Harrison via tubes right now. They’ll be on the ground overwatching the station in twelve minutes. We put the cavalry just north of there, overwatching the northern edge of the sector in case of counter attack.”
Nather pointed to the display. “There’s movement down to the south. The Greys are rolling north.”
“That didn’t take long,” Garrett said with a frown. He turned to his controllers. “Release close air squadrons Sixty-Two and Seventy-One. Drop Bay Nine to grid TT51015086. Give me direct comms with Saber Six on standby.” Garrett turned back to Nather. “Your orders, sir?”
“Commit all remaining close air to the fight. We’ll hold the ground here with your interceptors and guns.” Nather turned his head over his shoulder. “Time to conjunction?”
The officer of the deck called, “Twelve minutes to conjunction, sir. Weapons range in four minutes.”
Nather looked at Garrett. “Get all your aircraft off this platform in the next four minutes, Don. Then we’ll see about kicking some Grey ass for a change.”
Garrett was about to respond when a flash of light in the atmosphere below caught his eye. “What the?”
“Sir, we have multiple contacts. Additional Grey landing craft inbound.” Another streak, then another, passed into view as they burned off the plasma of atmospheric interface in long glowing fingers. Garrett’s mind drifted for a moment at the thought of a video game...something called...M
issile Command... No way to stop any of them. We’ll have to fight them on the ground. There were hundreds of streaks heading all over the southern hemisphere. “Any of those things headed toward our ground forces?”
“Negative, sir.”
“Where did they come from?” Nather demanded.
The officer of the deck looked up. “Sir, they came in on a direct vector from deep space. Current count is at least ten thousand inbound vehicles to all sectors of the planet. Clearly a backing maneuver, they’re fortifying their positions across the planet.”
Nather frowned, then brightened slightly. “Track them. Calculate the trajectory and launch a recon bird on an intercept. Maybe we can find those missing Jacks.”
“Sir, permission to launch a recon mission over the poles? Until the Viraat and the Canberra arrive on the farside, we’ve got no eyes over there.” Garrett leaned over the display and traced a long line over the pole. “We’ve got a launch window in one minute that will give max coverage in a highly elliptical orbit. We’ll need long dwell time over the northern latitudes to pull this off.”
“Get it airborne.” He turned to the bridge. “Announce weapons free, all guns loaded and prepared to fire at beyond visual range parameters. Maintain maximum rate of fire through engagement corridor. All damage control crews to standby. Prepare to engage and hold fast. The worst is yet to come.”
Alarms rang throughout the fleet at the announcement of weapons free—the ability to engage any confirmed enemy target. Within a minute, the Ticonderoga and her entourage of combat vessels were prepared for operations. Garrett ensured that all interceptor aircraft were launched and placed into the proper coverage corridors. All of the Rhinos were recovered and staged for launch. “Sir, all Rhinos are staging. Estimated time to launch supply missions to surface is four minutes. Bay Nine is completely operational and ready for launch.”
Nather made a “come here” gesture with his fingers and Garrett approached. “You know what you’re doing?”
“I do, sir.”
“I realize that hope is not a method, but I seriously hope you do, Don,” Nather said. He looked over his shoulder and raised his voice. “Commander Connelly! Front and center.”
A ruddy-faced man with a thick mustache came forward from the tactical air console. As the Deputy Commander Air Group, he was responsible for the overall command and control interfaces with every combat aircraft at all times. The perfect person for what Garrett had in mind.
Connelly came to the position of attention and saluted Nather with a forward facing palm. He spoke in a deep lilted Irish brogue. “Aye, sir!”
Nather looked at him and then back to Garrett. “Captain Garrett, by your request you are temporarily relieved of your duties as Commander Air Group. Commander Connelly, you are now the Commander Air Group while Captain Garrett assumes command—”
“Task Force Sixty-Two,” Garrett added off the cuff. “It’s the only number out there not taken, sir.”
“So be it,” Nather added.
“You crazy bastards are really going to do this?” Connelly smiled. “It’s a damned fine plan, sir. Give ‘em hell.”
Garrett shook Connelly’s outstretched hand. “You keep my wing flying, Seamus.”
An alarm klaxon rang behind Nather. “Weapons range. Tracking inbound missiles.”
Another operations officer called. “Bullet Six reporting contact from the south, sir! CAS inbound.”
Nather snapped, “Full defensive countermeasures! Set all weapons platforms and fire!” He turned to Garrett and Connelly. The light across the bridge from Libretto’s sun faded quickly and only the internal lights lit the room until the guns began to silently fire. Hypergolic fuels lit up the surrounding space as the missiles streaked around the curvature of the planet in search of their targets. “Weapons free. Engage all targets.”
Garrett watched the receding pulses of light for a moment before approaching his terminal and select crew of operators. “Launch Rhino flight and put them in a hold above Saber Six. Relay to Saber Six that operations are a go and to maintain direct communications. And get Lancer flight vectored in for operations.”
Let’s see what we can do now.
* * * * *
Fifty-Seven
The dawning sky above the cabin screamed to life and roused Tally from a restless sleep. Tears no longer came. Her eyes opened bright and clear without a trace of bleariness. The red streaks of blood vessels cleared as she realized what was happening and what she knew she had to do. There were protocols for this, developed as early as the plan to make a nearly dead world into the Paradise of the Outer Rim. Why didn’t I tell Andy about them? She looked into the sky and saw the flashing descents of a thousand ships streaking over the horizon to the south. The time was obviously now.
She moved quickly, stopping only to discard the smelly, tattered clothes she’d worn during her escape from Libretto City. The day Andy died. However long that had been, it didn’t matter. She paused at her closet and eschewed her modern clothing for the kenaala, the flowing purple and black garment of the Styrahi in mourning.
Long hair tied at the nape of her neck, she made her way down the wooden stairs without shoes. She would go now, and go barefoot. Echoes of thunder aloft shook the quiet cabin as she crossed through the kitchen into her living room and studio. Wide windows showcased the idyllic purple sky of morning. Thunder rolled, and hundreds of atmospheric contrails ripped across the dawn. She paused at her drawing table and ran a finger across the white surface. All her life she’d dreamed of creating beauty. But nothing lasted. Brick and mortar would crumble with time. Steel would rust and fall to the ground. Stone would erode like the chasms of her heart.
Fingering a piece of charcoal, her thoughts surprised her. She mourned Andrew, but there was a light in the tunnel of her thoughts. Mairin. Movement at the corner of her eye caught Tally’s attention and she turned. Mairin was sitting in the window sipping a mug of coffee. A whiff of wildflowers filled Tally’s nose as the vision faded, Mairin softly smiling. There was parchment on the desk and Tally sat. Taking up the charcoal as she’d done countless times before, she began to write. She wrote with the plodding pace of those either struggling to find the words or those trying not to cry. The pencil stopped as a fresh tear cascaded down her cheek and the thundering skies quieted. Folding the paper, Tally secured it to the desk with two strips of tape then slid out the glass door, leaving it unlocked.
Outside, she opened a locker only she knew about. Hidden flush in the rich redwood decking, she raised the lid and breathed slowly. Lightly oiled rags smelled sweet in the evening air as she hefted the package out to the table. The plasma rifle looked as perfect as the day she’d secured it.
The last line of defense, she thought with a snort. How had it come to this?
She took two bandoliers of ammunition, a total of six hundred rounds, and shouldered them along with the rifle. The air was pungent and moist, yet without a trace of rain. Dusk rose and began to gently turn the countryside dark. The lake was a glimmering silver reflection of the calming sky. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply to steel her nerves. The time had come to say goodbye.
She looked around the deck, the richly appointed cabin, and the surrounding forests with a smile. This was the closest she would ever get to heaven. On her desk, a corner of her note fluttered a goodbye. She’d left a window open somewhere. Maybe it wouldn’t rain too much before Mairin came home for good. If she survived this war, this place would be hers. She looked at the flowing script of her calligraphy on the note and read it aloud.
“Cariad.”
Tally said it again as a promise that the note would find its way. Turning on her heel, Tally wiped her eyes for the last time and set her jaw. She didn’t need her neurals to tell her that the Greys were coming for what they thought was theirs. The bastards had marched across the galaxy for millennia, and it shoud have been obvious. The way they’d eventually attack Styrah, Tueg, and even Earth.
Wherev
er the oil was.
Wherever they could feed.
The Styrahi mined Libretto for oil with a singular purpose in mind. Chum. Use the rich oil fields of Libretto to create a target the Greys would have to pursue. Maybe the Greys would find the motherlode on Lektia someday. Or maybe the Greys would find Hiallae first, or the fourteen other oil stocked worlds across the Rim.
I’m so sorry, Andy. I didn’t realize the Tuegs knew about Libretto. I should have told you about the oil.
Hundreds of trillions of barrels consumed by the human race in a thousand years were perhaps a year or two of sustenance for the Greys. Maybe the Greys would find them eventually. Maybe the bait would take the Greys away long enough to build a better defense? Maybe the humans could really turn the tide? Humans like Mairin. Where was she? Was she here? Did it matter anymore? As long as oil pumped to the surface of Libretto, the world was an easy target and exactly what the Greys sought. And likely why Andrew died.
Tally walked with quick, light steps down the path towards the woodline and away from the only home she’d ever really claimed as her own. Today she would help to destroy part of the planet she’d been so privileged and honored to build. Her hearts were light as well, thinking of the note she’d left for Mairin to find. Somehow Tally knew Mairin would find it. Mairin knew of faith, and hope, and she would know that love would last forever.
Helios fully set beyond the mountains of the west as Tallenaara walked into the woodline. She closed her eyes and mouthed a quiet blessing for Andy, then Mairin, before beginning to softly sing the Warrior’s Song to herself. Picking up the pace to a light jog, she flew through the waning darkness along a path burned into her mind from years of excursions and inspections. There was much work to do.
Tally chuckled as a line of poetry, from the primitive poets of Earth, of all places, leapt to mind. Yes, there was so much to do. Kilometers to go before I sleep and all that.
Runs In The Family Page 31
