Beyond the Frontier: Steadfast

by Jack Campbell

  “Leave them,” Hsien snapped.

  “But—”

  “Just leave them!”

  The Marine moved away fast, as if trying to flee the compartment where the last four criminals were still alive. The other Marines went quickly, too, clearing passageways rapidly, past the dead criminals who had fought at the air locks and going out through the temporary air lock as swiftly as they could.

  Orvis waited on the ice, counting as he watched Marines come out and jump from the air lock to land nearby. “That’s everybody.”

  “Gunny?” the private who had been guarding the four prisoners asked.

  “I know what you’re going to ask,” Orvis said. “We can’t help them. They did this to themselves.”

  “Gunny,” another private said, “that ship is a mess now. It’s gonna be unlivable in—”

  Orvis pointed toward the wrecked ship. “We left the weapons dropped by the guys we killed inside. Some of them still work. And we left the med supplies and drugs undisturbed. There’s more than enough drugs for them to knock themselves out and not feel a thing when the end comes. That’s the best we can do for those four who are still alive. You understand? That’s the best we can do. Unless you want to climb back in and finish them yourself.”

  “No. No, Gunny. I got too many nightmares as it is.”

  “You and me both. Now line up. We jump in sequence. Check your jets. Put everything you got into the jumps, and your jets will kick in automatically as you clear the surface.”

  The Marines formed a loose column on the surface of Europa, most of them looking upward to where Jupiter loomed. No one looked down at the hard, dirty ice under their feet. “Follow the drill,” Orvis cautioned. “Three-minute intervals. You screw up, and even I can’t save you. Maya, those two officers still out?”

  “Yeah, Gunny. Must be nice to sleep late, huh?”

  “Funny. You and the others with the officers slave their armor to yours, so they’ll automatically jump along with you.”

  “Got it. All right, Gunny, their armor is in zombie mode.”

  Geary looked toward Desjani, who was studying her display. “Are we in position?”

  “We’re ready. Shuttles, stand by.”

  “Gunnery Sergeant Orvis, we’re ready for you.”

  “That’s it,” Orvis announced to his Marines. “Ready? Begin count. One.”

  The first Marine in the column, his knees already flexed, straightened in a convulsive leap, the power of the armor and the weak gravity combining to hurl him high upward even before the jet assists cut in and yanked him away from Europa with startling speed.

  Three minutes later, a second Marine jumped. Then a third, a fourth . . .

  Geary watched their progress on his display, a string of shapes rising from Europa. It struck him suddenly that these were the first humans to leave that cursed moon since before the human-created plague struck long centuries ago. From this high up, he could see one of the domed cities that had held nothing but the dead during those centuries, many of the solar-powered lights still functioning even after so long to create a false image of life and warmth in a place that held neither.

  As the first Marine rose into orbit, one of Dauntless’s shuttles snagged him with a tether that shot out and latched onto one leg. The shuttle brought the Marine into position near Dauntless and waited.

  Desjani touched a comm control. “Senior Chief Tarrini, target is one Marine. Make sure you get everything.”

  One of Dauntless’s hell lances fired. The particle beam, which at full strength would have easily punched completely through the Marine’s battle armor, had been carefully adjusted to put out just enough energy to flay the armor of its outer layer. As the armor jerked under the impact of the stream of charged particles, Geary heard the Marine inside grunt under the force of the blows transmitted through the armor. Stress data appeared on his helmet view, along with warnings as damage rapidly accumulated to everything on the surface of the armor. Then the image and sound cut off as the last external comm relays on the armor evaporated under the lash of the hell lance.

  The shuttle used the tether to rotate the Marine carefully, ensuring that the weapon played over the entire surface of the armor.

  “How does it look?” Geary asked Dr. Nasr.

  Dr. Palden answered before Nasr could. “That spot needs another hit. And there. What about under the tether clasp?”

  “That will be hit when the shuttle releases the tether,” Nasr said, his tone of voice uncharacteristically short.

  “Proceed,” Dr. Palden said grudgingly.

  Several seconds later, the two doctors gave their approval. The shuttle ejected the used tether so that it fell toward Europa, then shot out another to grab the next Marine, while the second shuttle swung over to pick up the first Marine. Geary blew out a gasp of air as he looked at the heat readings on the outside of the first Marine’s battle armor. “I sure hope Dr. Nasr and Gunnery Sergeant Orvis were right about the Marines inside the armor being able to endure that.”

  Desjani, who was beginning to relax, smiled thinly at him. “Doctors make mistakes sometimes, but gunnery sergeants? Doesn’t happen.”

  As the next Marine was pummeled by the hell lance, the first was hauled into the second shuttle, where everyone paused while the doctors carefully examined their data. “He is fully decontaminated,” Nasr said.

  Dr. Palden scowled as she checked the same data, saying nothing.

  “There is a person inside that armor,” Dr. Nasr finally prodded her.

  “I need to be sure!” But five seconds later Palden shrugged. “It’s good.”

  “Get him out,” Desjani ordered.

  Geary watched sailors kneeling by the rigid figure of the Marine. Master Chief Gioninni was personally supervising the work, and Geary had earlier observed Dauntless’s hull technicians practicing on the broken set of battle armor, slicing it into pieces to get the precise settings needed for their equipment. But he still felt worry as incredibly sharp blades with edges only a single molecule wide sliced into the Marine’s armor. Such a blade could cut completely through a human arm or leg without even noticing the resistance.

  But there were no signs of trouble as the cutters came off the armor. “Put the ’shroons on,” Gioninni ordered after inspecting the cuts.

  Geary had no idea what the official name for ’shroons was. Like everyone else, he had only heard the nickname universally used for more than a century for the means to crack or pry open objects using only the tiniest of openings as a start. Rumor had it that the nickname derived from the ability of mushrooms to crack concrete slabs as they grew.

  Following Gioninni’s command, the techs slapped ’shroon pads onto the cuts in the Marine’s armor. Unseen, tiny filaments slid down from the pads into the cuts, then began expanding and growing, inexorably pushing the openings wider and wider despite the immense strength of the inner layers of material on the battle armor. Reaching the extent of their reach and life span, the ’shroons shriveled and dropped away.

  “Get him out,” Gioninni said.

  The techs knelt again and slid the Marine out of the split armor. The private looked back at them with a dazed expression, still bemused by the blows from the hell lance and the subsequent heat inside his armor. Helping him to a seat, one of the sailors offered a drink which the Marine sucked down avidly.

  Lowering the drink bulb, the Marine locked an accusing look on the sailors. “Gunny said there’d be beer.”

  “You’ll get beer when we get back to the ship,” Gioninni assured him. “Right now, that stuff the docs cooked up is best for you.”

  “Look at them bruises on him,” one of the techs commented in awed tones. “You look like you just came back from some really great liberty,” he told the Marine.

  “Don’t feel like it,” the Marine grumbled, taking another drink and gri
macing.

  “That’s all right,” the sailor assured him. “You guys did good down there.”

  “Hell,” the Marine said. “We did our job. Those goons never had a chance.” He stared gloomily at nothing as the sailors prepared for the next Marine.

  It seemed to take an eternity to decontaminate every Marine and pry them out of their ruined armor. But, finally, Gunnery Sergeant Orvis, the last, climbed out of his armor unassisted, his face mottled with bruises already forming, disdaining any help from the weary sailors. Orvis looked at the piles of destroyed armor, shaking his head. “Operation complete, Admiral. The bean counters are going to raise hell about all this trashed armor, though.”

  “I’ll let Captain Smythe worry about that,” Geary said, knowing that his senior engineering officer would find some account to charge the expense to that would, if not justify the expense to the bean counters, at least confuse the bean counters as to whether they should object to the charge. “But the op isn’t complete yet.” The two sets of battle armor holding Lieutenants Yuon and Castries still lay intact inside the shuttle, their exteriors darkened and radiating heat. “Dr. Nasr will meet you at the shuttle dock. Help get those two sets of armor to the total-isolation compartment in medical.”

  “Yes, sir. Admiral, I have to tell you, it was pretty tough inside that armor. We need to get those officers out of that as soon as possible.”

  The shuttle had almost reached Dauntless as they spoke. Within a minute, it had landed, and the ramp was lowering. The worn-out Marines, groaning just loud enough to make their unhappiness apparent but not loud enough to draw a rebuke from Gunnery Sergeant Orvis, put on insulated gloves and hoisted the armor-encased officers onto medical stretchers that raced off with Drs. Nasr and Palden running behind.

  Geary felt an irrational urge to trot down to sick bay himself, but he was still watching the overall situation and so waited on the bridge, viewing remotely as the stretchers deposited the two officers inside the total-isolation compartment. The two barely fit in the small room, which was intended for only the most extreme emergencies and could normally hold just one person.

  Dr. Nasr moved with assured speed as he activated autonomous devices within the total-isolation compartment. After ensuring that the seals on the compartment were in place and solidly locked, he set the devices to work cutting the officers out of the armor. It was a longer and more complex process than when sailors could do some of the work and oversee the rest, but eventually the limp bodies of both officers were free of their protective shells.

  Remote diagnostic sleeves attached themselves to the two officers, taking samples and readings which were relayed to Nasr. “No sign of infection,” he declared in a relieved voice.

  “No sign of active infection,” Dr. Palden corrected.

  Instead of replying, Dr. Nasr ordered the equipment inside the isolation compartment to begin supplying both lieutenants with solutions for liquid and nourishment, as well as some drugs to counteract those keeping them unconscious.

  After several minutes, Lieutenant Castries blinked and looked around groggily. She tried to stand up, wavering on her feet, and staring down in confusion at the medical sleeves and other devices attached to her. Geary winced in sympathy at the bruises vividly marking her visible skin, hoping that whatever the docs were giving Castries and Yuon including some powerful painkillers.

  Dr. Palden peered intently at the readouts, her expression suspicious. “Disorientation and weakness,” she said like someone condemning a prisoner.

  “Completely explainable by her ordeal and condition,” Dr. Nasr shot back. “Body temperature is stabilizing at normal. Brain functions show no deterioration or abnormality.”

  “That is so,” Palden admitted reluctantly.

  Lieutenant Castries had lifted her gaze to stare at the monitor in the compartment. “What happened? Where . . . Is this Dauntless?”

  Geary broke in to answer. “Yes, Lieutenant. You’re safe aboard Dauntless. Do you know you were kidnapped?”

  “What? No. I was on some street and . . . now I’m here.” She looked around, spotting Yuon, who was beginning to stir. “Him, too? Why are we both in here? And what the—?” Castries was staring at the broken battle armor in absolute bafflement.

  “You are in complete medical isolation,” Dr. Nasr explained. “You show no signs of current infection, but will have to stay totally isolated in that compartment for the next three weeks.”

  “Infection?” Castries was staring at her hand, which seemed to be covered with colorful hues of black, purple, and green as bruises developed.

  “You have been on Europa.”

  “I’ve— That’s— What—? I’m actually awake? This is real? I have to spend three weeks in here?” Castries suddenly realized something and her stare shifted to Yuon, who was blinking himself to awareness. “Three weeks in this little hole with him? What have I done to deserve this?” she wailed.

  “A sedative may be required,” Dr. Palden noted dispassionately.

  Relieved at seeing Castries all right, and at having the risky rescue operation successfully completed, Geary could not keep himself from laughing briefly as he looked toward Desjani. “I think that lays to rest any possibility that Castries and Yuon could be an item.”

  Tanya grinned. “You never know. They’re going to be stuck in there together for three weeks, so there’s always the possibility of hostage syndrome.”

  Geary escorted Commander Nkosi back to the shuttle dock, where they were met by the two doctors, as well as by Senior Chief Tarrini and the two weapons specialists that Nkosi had brought with him. Behind Geary came Senator Sakai and Victoria Rione. As Geary entered, he saw that a jovial Master Chief Gioninni had backed the two weapons specialists into a corner, where he was apparently thanking them profusely.

  Nkosi paused before entering his own shuttle, gazing at his comm unit. “My ship has relayed a message to me. Sol System government orders me not to permit your operation until further consideration.”

  Geary smiled. “Sometimes light-speed limitations and communications lag can be your friends.”

  “Certainly, especially when those to whom you send reports and who send orders back are close to a light-hour distant.” Nkosi hesitated again. “I will tell them all that I saw.”

  “That was the idea,” Geary said, no longer smiling. “We didn’t try to hide anything. And we only did what you would have done if your orders permitted it, and what you would have done as soon as you could.”

  “Yes,” Rione emphasized, “we did as your rules required. Ensure that you tell everyone that, Commander. We carried out the actions that Sol Star System rules made us carry out.”

  Nkosi gazed steadily back at her. “I will ensure that is widely known. Enforcing the quarantine of Europa is a lonely, boring, and on rare occasions horrible experience. I will not hesitate to remind the people of Sol Star System what their rules require of others and require of my own crews. And I will tell them that your actions were not only necessary but have eliminated an awful threat to us all.”

  “Thank you, Commander,” Senator Sakai said. “The Alliance is grateful for your cooperation in this.”

  “Hopefully, you won’t be the only ones who are grateful for that!” Nkosi saluted, then turned and walked into his shuttle. Behind him came Dr. Palden and the two weapons specialists. As the hatch to the shuttle closed, Geary saw those two hauling out large comm devices and shaking them with puzzled expressions.

  The moment the shuttle left the hanger, Senior Chief Tarrini and Master Chief Gioninni broke into laughter.

  “What did you do?” Geary asked.

  “Nothing bad, Admiral,” Tarrini assured him. “You saw those big units those two specialists had? Comm units, hell. Even Sol Star System isn’t that far behind on their tech to require something that large. Those were collection devices. They were scanning and reco
rding everything they could while they were close to our weapons.”

  “So we set up a strong mag coil in that corner,” Gioninni said with a chuckle. “I backed them into the corner while telling them how grateful we were for them helping out, then Senior Chief triggered the coil. The field was strong enough to send all of their files down the backassward black hole of degenerate data.”

  “An unfortunate accident,” said Senator Sakai with a rare smile showing. “I believe my own files have encountered that black hole on occasion.”

  “Senator,” Geary said, “with the permission of the Alliance government, I would like to head for the hypernet gate now and get on our way home.”

  “Permission granted,” Sakai said, solemn again. “Is that how you say it properly?” He looked around at the others. “Thank you for finding a solution that saved those two young officers and for the excellent work in carrying it out. I would like to thank the Marines personally when the opportunity arises.”

  Tarrini was eyeing Sakai as if uncertain of the politician’s motive in saying “thank you,” but Gioninni grinned. “You are welcome, Senator. It may be a few days before the Marines are up to meeting you, though. They’re all pretty beat-up.”

  “And they will, I think,” Dr. Nasr added, “need additional meds and therapy to cope with the events on the surface.” Despite his dour words, since Dr. Palden left, Nasr had been acting as if a dark cloud had lifted.

  “It was a dirty job,” Geary agreed. “I’m sorry we had to ask that of them.” He tapped the nearest comm panel. “Captain Desjani, head for the hypernet gate. We’re going home.”

  Only a few seconds passed before he heard cheers echoing through the passageways of Dauntless. The word had spread fast.

  He didn’t feel like joining in the jubilation, though. The events on Europa had cast too dark a pall over his feelings. All he could feel was a tired sort of relief that, once again, an unavoidable job was complete.

  • • •

  SENATOR Costa would sometimes take a seat in one of the dining compartments, engaging crew members in conversation. Geary had long ago figured out that Costa’s goal in this was not simply to ingratiate herself with the crew but to find out what they knew and gauge their feelings on different issues.