by Finn Gray
Trent closed her eyes, raised her head to the heavens. “Damn. Do you think he’s alive?”
Marson shook his head. “I don’t know. There was a weapon called the Nyx, a huge thing. We blew it up, and it looked like it took the base with it.”
“You and Waring blew it up?”
“Not us, exactly. Like I said, there’s a lot to tell.”
“I can’t wait to hear it all.” She sucked in a sharp breath as Usman poured clear liquid on her wound. It immediately began to foam. “Are you going to tell Wade or should I?”
“I got it, Sir. You enjoy your spa treatment.”
Sergeant Trent flipped him the bird.
In the adjoining cabin, Jemma Wade lay on a makeshift pallet beneath a thin blanket. She had always been pale, but now she was ghostlike in appearance. Becca was tending to her. She looked up when Marson entered and her eyes narrowed.
“Broken ribs,” Becca said, taking a reading with some instrument Marson had no hope of identifying or understanding, “and a bit of internal bleeding. Fortunately, it’s nothing we can’t handle.”
Jemma nodded, her eyes still on Marson, questioning.
Throughout training, Marson had hated both Jemma and Rory. Each had rubbed him the wrong way on day one and it hadn’t gotten better since then. He thought he’d relish delivering the news to Jemma that her precious farmer was dead. But now, he found he couldn’t do it.
“Do you need any help?” he asked Becca.
“Just keep out of my way, but don’t leave. I might need you.”
“Where is Rory?” Jemma managed hoarsely.
“You can talk to him later, but right now I need you to be calm and quiet,” Becca ordered.
Jemma must have believed that Rory was the “him” to whom Becca referred. She nodded, closed her eyes, and let her head fall back onto the rolled jacket she used for a blanket. Becca injected Jemma with three different liquids, the first of which put her to sleep in a matter of seconds. Next, she took out a device that looked like a tiny flashlight with a digital display on the side. She flicked it on, lifted the hem of Jemma’s shirt, and slid the device back and forth over her flesh.
“I need to get the bleeding under control. It’s a good thing I got to her when I did—she’s very weak.” Becca took out another device, this one with a shiny, dish-like bottom, rubbed orange gel onto it, then placed it on Jemma’s stomach.
Marson realized he was holding his breath as he watched Becca work. There was nothing to see, really. Just a faint glow of light and the changing readouts on the digital display on the top of the instrument.
Finally, Becca relaxed. She shut down the instrument, turned to Marson, and smiled.
“That should do it. It will be safe to move her now. When we get her to the fleet we’ll hopefully be able to get her a transfusion. Until then, she can sleep.”
Marson couldn’t see any difference in Jemma. He supposed it was foolish to think the change would be immediate. That only happened in vids. He trusted that Becca knew her stuff.
When they returned to the cabin, the other marines had already been treated. Becca gave each of them a cursory inspection before giving her approval for the injured marines to move to the transport.
Once they reached the transport, he checked in with Peyton, who had been monitoring RADS.
“Any sign of danger?”
Peyton shook her head. “Nothing. Maybe when the Nyx blew up it really did take out the entire base.”
“That’s good. I think we’re about ready to get our asses out of here. I just need a minute.”
He felt sick to his stomach as he exited the craft. Something had been bothering him since they’d escaped the base. He needed answers but wasn’t sure he’d be able to get them. Still, he had to try.
Snowman caught him on the way out. “What’s wrong?”
“Is it about Plowboy?”
“No, it’s not about him.” Gods, they did worship Waring, and Marson was sick of it. “It’s about Trent and the fact that she knew about a top-secret Memnon base, and was trying to take all of us there.” The words were out before he realized it. Damn! He’d let his temper get the better of him. He could see by the thoughtful look in Snowman’s eyes that it was too late to take his words back. The seeds of suspicion had been planted.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation.” Snowman sounded anything but certain.
“I’m sure you’re right. Just give me a minute.”
He hurried away, kicking himself for his loose tongue. When he found Becca, he took her aside.
“I need to know if Sergeant Trent looks familiar to you.”
Becca’s brow furrowed. “Why?”
“She implied that she spent some time at Stone Mountain. If that’s the case, she shouldn’t have been rotated out, should she?”
Becca slowly shook her head. “Her face doesn’t ring a bell. It’s technically possible that she could have avoided my notice.”
“What bothers me is that she apparently spent some time on the base and then was assigned to a post at Camp Maddux. She went from a base housing a secret Memnon sleeper cell to a training facility where our other sergeant turned out to be a Memnon. Oh, and he tried to kill us.”
“I’m a Memnon, too,” Becca said. “Not by choice and I don’t agree with their beliefs. But technically I’m one of them.”
Marson frowned. The same was true of Jemma. He thought he could live with that, but Trent was another story. Her story didn’t hold water. If she were a Memnon sleeper agent, taking her to the fleet was not an option.
“I think I should talk with Trent.”
“Be careful,” Becca cautioned. “If she’s not one of them, she might whip your ass for suggesting it. If she is one of them…” There was no need for her to finish the sentence.
Marson decided he needed an ally. Cassidy was a Memnon hater, and thanks to Becca’s ministrations she was now on her feet and fully alert.
Cassidy frowned when she saw Marson approaching. “Snowman already told me about Rory.”
“That’s not what I want to talk to you about.” He quickly sketched out the details of the situation. Cassidy listened intently, her frown deepening. “And let’s not forget, Trent was trying to take us to that Memnon base.”
Cassidy ran a hand through the dark, blood-matted hair that had now grown down to the bottom of her ears. “Did you actually see the base destroyed?”
Marson shook his head. “No, but it was several hells of an explosion.”
“And you didn’t actually see Rory die?”
Marson couldn’t believe that they were having this conversation. “Look, I know he was your friend, but he’s gone, just like most of the world. But we’re still alive, and I’d like to keep it that way. We need to focus on Trent. What do you think?”
Cassidy made a noncommittal shrug. “I trust her.”
“But how can you be sure? And say we make it to the fleet. What happens when they find out? Are we guilty by association?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Let’s talk to her.”
“Looking for me?” Trent was limping toward them. Despite the severity of her break, here she was, limping along with barely a sign of the previous injury.
“Sergeant, may we speak with you in private?” Marson asked.
“Can’t we do it on board the ship? I’d rather not stay out here in this mess for one second longer than necessary.”
“No, Sir. It needs to be in private and not onboard the ship.” It felt odd to speak to his superior this way but Marson was exhausted, his nerves stretched to their limit. If he was honest, he felt badly about the deaths of Oates and even Waring. What’s more, he was fed up with feeling like a Memnon lurked around every corner. Right now he could give two shits about protocol.
Trent looked from one to the other, her expression unreadable. She wore a sidearm at her hip and Marson wondered what he should do if she reached for it. He’d have to kill her. Or try to.
“
I guess you two aren’t going to tell me what this is about unless I play along. Fine, let’s go.”
When they’d moved far enough away that Marson was confident they were out of earshot, they stopped.
“Stone Mountain is under control of the Memnons,” he said in a quiet but firm voice, “and has effectively been under their control for a long time.” He locked eyes with her and waited for a reply.
Trent didn’t flinch. “I did not know that.”
“What’s more, I have it on good authority that the Memnons who run the base don’t let anyone leave unless that person is part of their inner circle.”
“Whoever told you that is full of shit.” Trent appeared unruffled by the accusation.
“I don’t think so. I’ve got it from more than one person who was in a position to know.”
“I know what I’m talking about.” Trent raised her chin, emphasizing her greater height. “I was stationed there for a few boring months. I trained guards in hand-to-hand combat. My access was restricted to the gymnasium where I led training, the mess hall, a rec room, the showers, and my rack. I visited no other part of the base, except for the hangar on my arrival and departure.”
Marson didn’t know what to say. Trent had rescued them during the uprising, had never given reason to believe she was anything but loyal to the Aquarian cause. But doubt remained. He wanted to believe her, but that meant he lacked objectivity. He glanced at Cassidy, who slowly shook her head.
“You think I’m a Memnon,” Trent said. It wasn’t a question.
Cassidy remained silent.
“I don’t know what I think,” Marson said.
“So, shoot me.”
Marson’s heart skipped a beat. “Hold on. I’m not saying...”
“That’s an order, marine. If you believe I’m a Memnon, take out your sidearm and shoot me. Right here.” She touched the spot between her eyes. “I won’t even try to stop you.”
What in the hells was she doing? Did this prove her loyalty, or was it a mind game?
“Sergeant, come on. I just want to figure this out.”
“I believe she’s telling the truth,” Cassidy said.
Trent barked a derisive laugh. “Of course I’m telling the truth, but it doesn’t really matter now, does it? If you suspect me of being a Memnon, then others will too once they start comparing notes.”
Marson hung his head. “About that. I kind of let my suspicions slip to Snowman. It wasn’t intentional, I swear.”
Trent barked a cold laugh. “That’s just great! Snowman has done nothing but curse the Memnons since you left. There’s little chance of him trusting me again. Even if he does, best case scenario, I’m cleared of any wrongdoing once we return to the fleet and I live the rest of my career under a cloud of suspicion.” She took a step forward. “I have worked too hard, sacrificed too much, for that. So come on, marine. Shoot me!”
Marson drew his weapon but could not bring himself to raise it, much less squeeze the trigger. He hated himself for doubting her. She’d always treated him harshly, but fairly.
“Oh, fuck me sideways.” Trent snatched the pistol from his grasp and took two steps back.
Marson was in shock. “Sergeant, don’t.” He didn’t know if she planned to shoot herself or him. He wanted neither. “I was wrong to accuse you.”
“No, you weren’t. If what you told me is correct, anyone who has served at Stone Mountain is ruined. Things will be a million times worse for you and the rest of the squad if I come along with you.”
“Sir, what are you saying?” Cassidy asked.
“You take the squad and rejoin the fleet. I’m going to stay here and kill Memnons.” She held up a hand, forestalling protest. “Don’t bother arguing. My mind’s made up.”
Marson didn’t know what to say.
“This is what it’s going to be like, isn’t it?” Cassidy said. “Everyone suspecting everyone else?”
Trent shrugged. “That’s what it’s going to be like for you. I’m just going to haul my ass over to Stone Mountain and shoot anyone who gets in my way. It’s a hard life, but it’s clean.”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant,” Marson said.
“Don’t be. Since I was a little girl, I have dreamed of killing Memnons.” Trent smiled. “Now, get these people out of here before the bastards catch you.”
She turned and headed back toward her crashed transport.
“Wait!” Cassidy said. “I’m coming with you.”
Marson couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Even Trent disapproved. “That’s ridiculous. I’m going on a suicide mission.”
“I’ve got my reasons, Sir. If you won’t let me come with you, I’ll make a go of it on my own.” Cassidy stared back in defiance. “You know I’ll do it, too.”
Trent looked down at her for a full five seconds before giving a resigned shake of her head. “Clancy was right about you. You are, without a doubt, the most obstinate recruit that’s ever come through Camp Maddux, and that’s the one thing I like about you. Fine, come on if you’re coming.”
With that, she turned and limped away, with Cassidy a step behind.
Marson found himself frozen in disbelief. So close to escape and they were going to just walk off into the jungle? “You’re both crazy!” he shouted at their backs. No reply. “I don’t suppose I’m getting my sidearm back, am I, Sir?”
Trent replied with an upraised middle finger.
Marson laughed, despite himself. Not a damned thing he could do. Although they had already disappeared from sight, he waved goodbye before he turned and ran back to the transport.
Peyton smiled when he appeared. “Glad you made it back in one piece.”
Was she happy to see him, or just relieved to be getting off the planet?
“Are we ready?” she asked.
“Yes. Let’s get back to the fleet.”
Chapter 45
Battlecruiser Dragonfly
The first Memnon dreadnought they encountered gave way beneath the devastating assault of the first wave of Cobras along with the combined firepower of Cronus and Dragonfly. On the bridge, cheers arose as they witnessed the destruction of a Memnon warship.
It was a glorious sight to be certain, but Lina couldn’t find it in her heart to lend her voice to the chorus. Her mind was on the many pilots and crew they had already lost. The Cobra pilots had proved themselves to be vastly superior to their Memnon counterparts. So much so, that Lina could almost believe the gods had taken a hand in their fight
Still, they had suffered losses. Each one stung.
It hurt Graves, too, especially when the fallen came from his own ship. He maintained his exterior calm but his eyes gave him away. They tightened with news of casualties, strained when one of his pilots fell.
“We’re going to do it,” Graves said. “We’re going to win.”
She nodded. On the vids and through the audio she listened silently as the commanders communicated and reported on the progress of the battle as a whole. She also listened to the chatter on the bridge and with their pilots. She felt she had a fairly accurate assessment of the situation.
The first stage had gone about as well as they could have hoped. Their preemptive strike had given the Aquarians the initiative and inflicted heavy damage. Their control of the satellite defense network had also come as surprise to the Memnons. A pair of dreadnoughts had taken a run at the civilian fleet and found their offensive blunted by the satellites in concert with Kestrel’s big guns.
Skylark and Swallow were each holding two of their Memnon counterparts at bay. Each had suffered high casualties and heavy damage. Meanwhile, their feint having served its purpose, Osprey and Harrier were battling their way back toward the Brick.
Lina could sense that things teetered on a precarious knife’s edge. She also sensed single-minded determination, the like of which she’d never witnessed in the political realm. This was truly life and death.
“Admiral, this is Scott. We’re…” Commander Scott paused. Lina could hear cries of alarm, deep rumbles in the background. “We’re going down. But the bastard we tangled with is going to be limping for a long time. He won’t rejoin the fight today.”
Lina began to cry as she listened as, in the midst of the chaos of battle, the commanders bade their comrade a solemn goodbye. She forced herself to listen to the voices coming in from Harrier until the feed cut out.
“She’s gone,” Patel said.
Lina closed her eyes. Harrier wouldn’t be the last ship to go down today.
“What about Osprey?” she asked. Val was on board that ship. Yes, she was back to being a conniving bitch, but she was still Lina’s twin. She didn’t want her to die.
“Alive and kicking,” Patel said. “She broke free of the Memnon she tangled with, and is closing fast.”
“Good.”
The battle raged on. The surviving dreadnought was putting up several hells of a fight. There would be no more surprises. Everything hinged on whether or not the Brick could be destroyed and the fleet kept safe long enough to jump.
The deck trembled beneath Lina’s feet as heavy blasts pounded Dragonfly again. It no longer frightened her. She had accepted the probability of her death, if not the certainty. She had a few regrets, mostly that her family had been killed before she could say goodbye. And then there was Val.
Her moment of reflection shattered as Laws’ voice rang out on the comm.
“Commander Graves, we’ve got trouble.”
The HUB
George held his breath and clutched the control panel as the HUB began its jump. His heart raced as the deck vibrated beneath his feet, and the world went…odd.
“Focus, George,” he said. “Don’t close your eyes, don’t get dizzy. You’ve got to monitor the readouts.” Somehow, saying the words aloud helped him concentrate.
The world swam before his eyes, time itself seemed to stretch.
On the console in front of him, a series of bars bounced up and down.
“Keep them all in the green,” he whispered. This was where the nav had failed before.
