Kerri Helfort, with Sam never farther than a foot away the entire time, had walked through the group, settling people down, calming the nervous, reassuring everyone that all was under control even if the flow of information from the marines who’d slipped them out of the camp right under the noses of the Hammer had dried up completely.
To Kerri’s relief, the wait finally came to an end.
A group of shifting, shapeless blurs emerged cautiously from the broken ground between her and the huge slab sides of the bioplant supplies and driver mass buildings. Close as they were, they were barely discernible even under the floodlights that swamped the base in orange light. It took them no time at all to get to her position, but as they got close enough for her to make them out, Kerri was pleased to see that just as they were quick, they were also watchful; their heads and carbines swung ceaselessly from side to side, and from time to time they turned to walk backward.
As the marines approached, Kerri rose slowly to her feet. She saw the marines spread out to take covering positions around the
“Commodore Helfort? I’m Major Krasov, sir. Colonel Musaghi’s compliments. It’s time to go home.”
Kerri just nodded.
Holding Sam tightly by the hand, she waved the watching
Without a look back, they set off down the long road home.
The last two FedWorld heavy assault landers sat patiently on the apron, anticollision lights on full power throwing splashes of orange light across the ground.
The air was thick with tension as Colonel Musaghi and his battalion staff watched the infuriatingly slow process of herding the last of the Hammers in sullen flexicuffed silence up the ramp of
Musaghi snorted disapprovingly. Where did the Fleet get its lander names from? The second lander rejoiced in the sobriquet of
“Not a happy bunch, Colonel.” Musaghi’s operations officer, a tall lanky Suleimani, waved a dismissive hand at the dejected line of men.
Musaghi nodded. He’d have much preferred to leave every single one of the Hammer scum dirtside, but orders were orders. “Not quite what the bastards expected, I’m sure. How many to go?”
“That’s the lot, Colonel. Apart from the dead ones.”
“I’m sure as hell not taking them,” Musaghi said, lifting his breather mask for a second to spit on the ground for effect. “Sterilization teams?”
“On schedule, sir. All the major facilities have been seeded, and those teams are back; just the minor support systems to go and we’re done.”
Musaghi grunted.
Not for one second had he allowed himself to forget that they were deep inside Hammer space, and the minute they pinchjumped out-system wouldn’t be soon enough. In the interests of completing the operation sooner rather than later, he had wanted simply to blow up the entire base, but he had been emphatically overruled. Some lunatic, probably some useless seat polisher in interstellar relations, clearly thought that Eternity Base would be reactivated some day, and to that end teams had fanned out to seed every system in the place with software that would turn millions of FedMarks worth of AIs into so much solid-state junk. Never in a thousand years would the Hammer be able to reactivate the enormously complex systems that could turn a dirtball of a world like Eternity into a place fit for humans in a matter of years.
Musaghi grunted again, this time much more emphatically. He didn’t give a toss for Eternity, and it would be one hell of a long time before the Hammers would allow anyone back to pick up where Brigadier General Digby and his unholy crew of jailbirds had been forced to leave off. If ever.
A flurry of comms interrupted his thoughts. Eternity Base was now officially useless, and the last of the sterilization teams, job done, were pulling back, the protective wall of marines surrounding them following them into the landers.
As the last techs disappeared up the ramp of
The lander climbed out of Eternity Base at an impressively steep angle under full military power.
An impassive Digby sat unmoving, eyes fixed on the holovid, which was still locked on Eternity Base fast disappearing into the dark behind them. He’d been the last to board, kept on the lower deck well away from the rest of the Hammers, surrounded by an impressively large honor guard of marines. From the safety of Humpback Hill, he’d been watching the systematic takeover of everything he had built when a snatch team had emerged from the ground around him, carbines emphatically making the point that this was not the time for heroics. Slowly, reluctantly, Digby had raised his hands as, for the second time in his life, he had surrendered to the enemies of the Hammer of Kraa.
But this time, he had the blood of innocents on his hands, and the Feds knew it. For a moment his resolve had failed as he wondered whether he’d ever be allowed to walk free again.
As the lander thundered its way into orbit, Digby closed his eyes and put his head back, the helmet ring of the survival suit biting into his neck. He’d done what he could; he’d done his best. If that wasn’t good enough, then so be it. All he wanted was to be able to hold Jana one last time, and then the Feds could do what they liked with him. As he drifted off to sleep, he knew somehow that even if the Feds chose to treat him like a common criminal and hang him from the nearest tree, he finally had laid the ghosts of his past to rest.
Thursday, November 19, 2398, UD
“Command, this is Mother. I have a positive gravitronics intercept. Six vessels. Grav wave pattern indicates pinchspace transition imminent. Estimated drop bearing Red 30 Up 5. Initial drop vector suggests ships inbound for Hell Flotilla Base.”
Ribot’s heart turned in an instant to a block of ice. He struggled to breathe. Just as he had begun to hope that Mr. Murphy would not crash the party, the son of a bitch had arrived with a vengeance. He’d always known that it might come to this. Hell-14 was close to the primary approach axis for ships transiting from Commitment, and there had always been a chance that the two light scouts would have to do more than provide forward surveillance, precisely why they’d been on Hell-14 in the first place. But where the hell had six Hammer ships come from? Not from Commitment, that was for damn sure; otherwise he’d have been told, been given plenty of time to deploy his missiles to ambush the warships as they dropped and then get the hell out.
“Shit.” Ribot paused to think for a second. “All hands to general quarters, Maria. And depressurize as well.”
Hosani shot him a worried look as she commed the necessary orders through the ship.
Ribot commed Chen, whose anxious face gave him all the confirmation he needed.
“Bill, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I suspect I am. We can’t just sit here and let the Fleet Base attack group just drop into their laps.”
“No, we can’t. We’ve gone to general quarters, so let’s get our heads together and see what we can do. We’ve got a little time before the bastards drop. Though I think it’s going to be real simple. Throw ourselves at them and pray that they can’t shoot straight.”
“I’m rather afraid that’s right. Wonder where they came from.”
“God knows. The surveillance reports from Commitment nearspace showed no ships boosting out-system for
