The battle of Devastation reef

Reckless out to engage ships of Hammer-7,” the AI replied. “That gives you the best chance of recovering the marines and clearing Hammer space to the east.”

Michael had to agree. “Option three it is. Ops, get Caesar’s Ghost back here. Brief Sedova while she’s doing that. Warfare, give me a plan for Reckless. Sensors, let me know the instant the Hammers start launching missiles. And I want all your detailed records of the operation downloaded to Caesar’s Ghost. Raw datalogs as well. If in doubt, download it. I’d rather have more than less.”

“Sensors, roger.”

“XO to the CIC, at the rush.” With a twinge of guilt, Michael remembered he had completely forgotten Kallewi. He commed him. “Assault Leader, command. Update.”

“We found the power distribution center,” Kallewi said. “Charges have been placed, timers set, claymores are in, and we’re on our way back. That’s the good news. The bad is that a group of Hammers in the last lobby before the air lock has pushed my guys back and we’re pinned down. The tacbots tell us more are coming up behind us. We can hold them off, but not forever. Oh, thanks for the diversion. We would not have made it this far otherwise. Anyway, we can’t go back, we can’t go forward, so I think the best thing would be for you-”

“Enough of that,” Michael snapped. “I’m not leaving you. Hold the Hammers until I get back to you. Command, out.” He turned to Ferreira. “Time we all left, but I have one more job for you. Take Carmellini and Lomidze with you. I want six sets of ship assault gear in the lander, plus four demolition charges.”

“Six se-”

“Just do it, Jayla. I’ll explain later. Get everyone down to the hangar. Go!”

“Sir.” Ferreira and the rest of Reckless’s crew turned and ran for the lander.

“Command, Warfare. Plan’s done.”

“Right.” Michael forced everything aside apart from how best to make use of the last card left in his hand, Reckless itself. He nodded his appreciation. Warfare’s plan was solid. “It’s good. Do it,” he said. “You have command authority to execute; just keep me posted.”

“Roger,” Warfare said matter-of-factly.

With one last look around Reckless’s combat information center, Michael left, his sense of loss bitter in its intensity. Reckless had served him well; she deserved better. Dropping to the hangar deck, he bolted for Caesar’s Ghost as fast as his combat space suit would allow, the hatch slamming shut behind him. After what seemed an age, the hangar doors opened. Sedova wasted no time and gunned Caesar’s Ghost out and away from the doomed ship.

“Okay, pay attention.” Michael stood at the front of the cargo bay, his crew ranged in a semicircle around him. “Right, we have precious little time. Lieutenant Kallewi and his marines are pinned down just inside the access here”-he pointed over his shoulder-“by a group of Hammers. I want six volunteers to persuade the Hammers to let my marines go. So who-”

Together, the crew of Reckless stepped forward. “Shit,” Michael said, “weren’t you dumbos taught not to volunteer for anything?” He shook his head. “Okay, Jayla, Bienefelt, Carmellini, Fodor, Lim, Morozov. Draw weapons. Go, go, go!”

Michael stopped for a second to recover. “Kat. Get the ramp down.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

“Lomidze, Chief Chua,” Michael snapped.

“Sir?”

“I want you to follow the XO’s team in case we have casualties to recover. Take crash bags and keep your damn heads down. This is not the time for heroics.”

“Sir.”

A few frantic, scrambling minutes later, Michael’s scratch assault team was ready. “Good luck, Jayla. Remember your close-quarters combat drills.”

“You can count on it, sir,” Ferreira said. “If I see a Hammer, I’ll shoot the bastard. Let’s go, team.”

Ferreira shot out of the lander, her maneuvering pack driving her hard and fast toward the door of the personnel access facility, the spacers of her scratch assault team strung out behind her in an untidy, wavering line. Chief Chua and Lomidze brought up the rear, crash bags held tight.

Making his way up to the Ghost’s flight deck, Michael commed Kallewi.

“Okay. Ferreira and a team of spacers are on their way to help out. Call sign Alfa Bravo. She’ll let you know when they’re in place. On your mark, they’ll attack the blocking force from behind. Disengage, get your guys past, and all run like hell for the Ghost. Ferreira will leave demolition charges to slow the Hammers down. Okay?”

“Roger that, sir. Sounds like one hell of a plan,” Kallewi said, unable to conceal his relief.

“Yeah, it is. Just make it work,” Michael said, dropping into a spare seat and strapping in.

There was nothing more to be done to help the beleaguered marines, so he turned his attention back to the command and threat plots. There were no surprises there. The latest Hammer task group sent to protect SuppFac27 had dropped precisely where Carmellini had said it would; now the ships were turning inward to point their bows directly at Reckless. Ranged around the task group hung a cloud of missiles that was growing in size with every new missile salvo dumped into space. Michael drew a long, ragged breath. It would not be long before those missiles were committed to the attack; he prayed Reckless kept the Hammers’ attention long enough for them to get away. He tried not to think what the Hammers would do to him if he fell into their hands.

Michael commed Warfare. “All set?”

“Reckless is under way.”

“Good luck,” Michael said, realizating that when Reckless was destroyed-and she would be-he and his crew would be alone, marooned in Hammer space, deep inside an uncharted reef with only a heavy assault lander to get them home. He was no believer in miracles, but he was beginning to think he was going to need a bag of them to pull this one off. Disconsolate, he watched Reckless pull away, her only protection a cloud of decoys inside a Krachov shroud, rail guns her only weapons.

Michael watched sickened as Reckless’s massive bulk dwindled into the distance, the ship going to emergency power as soon as she was clear of Caesar’s Ghost, accelerating away on twin pillars of flame. She was a good ship; he would be sorry to lose her and even sorrier to lose Warfare and the rest of the AIs. He had built relationships with all of them. Mother, Warfare, Kubby, and Kal might not be human, but they were characters in their own right, and it was hard not to feel a sense of loss.

He patched his neuronics into one of the tacbots covering the lobby. Kallewi’s problem was obvious. A large force of Hammer planetary defense troopers had pushed back the marines Kallewi had positioned to keep his exit route clear; they now controlled the lobby, firing indiscriminately at the marines from behind the cover of the security station. To attempt to cross the lobby was to commit suicide. Kallewi was stalemated. That was the bad news. The good news was that Ferreira’s team was in place.

“Assault Leader, Alfa Bravo,” Ferreira said. “We’re in position. Ready to go on your mark.”

“Alfa Bravo, stand by,” Kallewi replied. “On three, go, go, go!”

Ferreira’s attack took the Hammers by surprise, grenades exploding among their tightly packed ranks with devastating effect, the carnage made worse when her team followed up with sustained bursts of rifle fire, the rounds ripping with brutal ease through troopers blown out of cover. Kallewi did not hang around to watch the slaughter. His marines broke cover in a desperate dash for the safety of the passageway leading back to the asteroid surface. They nearly made it, but a Hammer trooper managed to squeeze off a burst that took one of Kallewi’s marines in the leg, spinning her out of control and into the laser-cut rock wall of the lobby a few meters short of the exit.

Ferreira did not hesitate. Emptying her rifle at the Hammer, she lunged forward, her momentum unchecked by a lucky shot that ripped through her left arm. Throwing her gun away, she grabbed the marine with her bad arm and the safety line with her good one, pulling the two of them out of the firefight and into safety, the legs of the marine’s suit spewing gas, blood, and lurid green wound foam in equal measures.

“Withdraw,” Ferreira shouted, “withdraw! Bienefelt, Carmellini, set those charges. And someone slap a patch on our suits before we run out of gas.”