Alarm of War

She walked slowly, thinking about Hiram’s words. If the last few days were any indication, she was good at warfare, perhaps even very good. And she had to admit that she liked the contest, the anticipating what the enemy would do and how best to beat him. But the deaths, Gods of Our Mothers, all the deaths. She was honest enough to admit she didn’t really care about the enemy deaths, but she wailed inwardly when her own people died, and she cringed in shame as she thought again at how many had died because she of her orders.

At the entrance to the New Zealand, a Marine guard in full battle rattle stiffened to attention and saluted as she boarded. “Morning, Captain!” So word was already out. Probably Alex Rudd had alerted everyone on board that she would remain as captain.

“Captain?” It was the guard. “There is a visitor waiting for you in your day cabin.” Emily focused on him for the first time. He was very young. Had he been through Camp Gettysburg? Had he fought at Killarney Bridge?

When she reached her day cabin, she found a hard-looking Marine Corporal. “Cookie!”

Cookie laughed as Emily hugged her. “My, oh my, how you have come up in the world, girl. Once a dumb recruit at Camp Gettysburg and now eatin’ truffles and drinkin’ champagne on your own ship! Who would have guessed?”

Emily eyed her. The flashing-eyed girl from training camp was gone, replaced by a confident woman with lines that only hard experience can bring.

And two red tears tattooed under her left eye.

Emily reached out and rubbed the tears with the ball of her thumb. “They don’t come out,” she murmured.

“They ain’t never comin’ out,” Cookie said solemnly. “And I hope to hell I’m never in a situation to get me a third one. The first two damn near killed me.”

“Bad?” Emily asked, knowing the answer.

Cookie told her about the Tilleke commandos, the teleportation device, the bloody fights through dark corridors, the desperate race to get off the London, and the repeated boardings of the Yorkshire. Emily looked at her incredulously.

“You’ve got three of these machines, these transporter widgets?

“Yep,” Cookie answered, and grinned wickedly. “And they work, too.”

“What?”

“Tested ‘em just a few hours ago. I got this Artificial Intelligence boffin, smart as a whip. She’s got the equipment up and running. Once we reached Atlas, she found a store that sells pet rabbits, put one into the transporter and, presto! transported it to the shuttle bay. One seriously pissed off bunny, let me tell you. But alive and kickin’. Damn thing took off like a bat out of hell and we can’t find it anywhere, but it worked.”

Emily was astounded. “Cookie, this could be really important.”

Cookie shook her head. “Won’t help much, we don’t have enough Marines on the Yorkshire to make use of them and we still don’t know what the effective range is of the damn things.”

“How many Marines do you need?”

Cookie considered. “Well, three transporters with forty seats each. Pretty quick recycle time. With a lot of luck, we could maybe send two hundred forty soldiers through. Course, some of them would only be carrying wooden clubs; we don’t have nearly enough weapons.” They had a hundred and fifty of the air guns and a bunch of swords. The swords would be hard to make, but maybe they could make spears. Say a seven foot plastic pole with a hardened, sharp point and a cutting edge along the first two feet? That should be doable just using the Yorkshire’s work shop. She grimaced. Sending a Marine into combat with nothing more than a sharp stick as a weapon was not an attractive thought. But what else was there?

Emily meanwhile was on her comm. “Captain Rowe,” she said briskly. “I need your authority to place two hundred and forty Marines on the Yorkshire.” She explained everything Cookie had told her. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” She closed her comm and looked at Cookie. “You’ll have them in an hour.”

Cookie blinked in surprise, then smiled and stood up. “Damn, nice to have friends in high places.” Suddenly there was a lot to do in a very short time. She paused. “Emily, thank you for the time with Hirii. We — well, thank you.”

Emily was suddenly very somber. “Hiram asked me to make sure to bring you back. I’ll try, Cookie, I’ll try my best.”

Cookie half laughed, half sobbed. “Emily, I spend all my time thinkin’ about how to kill people, ‘bout how to make sure I get the other guy before he gets me. Last few days I shot people, stabbed ‘em and beat one of the bastards to death with a chair. Then, thanks to you, I get to see Hirii and he treats me like a piece of delicate china, like a lady.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Hirii?”

Cookie smiled softly. “‘Hirii’ is my name for him. He hates it, but I love it. You all know him as Hiram. A little stiff, straight as an arrow, always frettin’ ‘bout stuff, worryin’ all the time.” She shook her head. “That’s Hiram for sure, it is, but when I look at him, I see Hirii inside him, clever, funny, always thinking and seeing stuff I can’t see no matter how hard I try. You see Hiram, methodical and sorta boring; I see Hirii, takin’ horrendous risks that just scare the beejesus out of him because he knows that’s what we got to do.”

She looked Emily, eyes shining. “That’s Hirii, and he’s mine.”

Hiram Brill finally got back to his apartment. It was empty and too quiet. He walked through it slowly, trying to recapture every minute he and Cookie had had together. The bed was a wreck and he smiled. He sat on the edge and brought the pillow up to his face, breathing in to catch the faintest smell of her.

In the kitchen there was a note. He didn’t really want to read it; reading it somehow meant that she really was gone again, but he sat down and unfolded the paper.

My beloved Hirii:

I must leave now. I will go and do what I have to do, then I will come home to you forever.

I love you.

Maria

P.S. I think we broke your bed.

His comm buzzed. Reluctantly, he pushed the reply button. “Brill here, what is it?”

“The Black Watch and Queen’s Own have sortied, sir. Coldstream Guard will depart in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said. He raised Cookie’s note to his lips, then put it carefully back on the table, as if it were a precious jewel.

Chapter 64

Approaching the Refuge Worm Hole

The thirty nine remaining ships of the Black Watch and Queen’s Own were now four hours ahead of Atlas, well clear of the sphere-shaped shell of mines and missile platforms that encircled the space station. Together with the three Arks of the Home Fleet, they headed directly toward the Dominion blocking force.

On board the battleship Lionheart, Admiral Douthat could direct the upcoming battle and stay in touch with Atlas and the Coldstream Guards. Her monitors showed that the worm hole to Refuge was already moving to the left as they approached it, and the Dominion blocking force was falling back with it. No matter. She would press forward until they gave battle. She knew she was outnumbered, but she didn’t have to win the fight, only slow the Dominions enough so that they could not prevent Atlas from slipping through the wormhole when it finally stopped moving. So let the Dominions fall back. Every mile they moved further west put them a mile further from Atlas, assuming the damn worm hole really did move back to the east like the Light promised it would.

It should work.

Admiral Douthat snorted derisively. What could possibly go wrong with a plan like this one? Gods of Our Mothers, she thought, if my old tactics instructor from the Academy could see me now, he’d give me a failing grade