The Tau Ceti Agenda

Commander Auburn Brasher tapped a few keys on her console and relayed several command thoughts to her AIC and then looked back up and nodded to Fullback. 'The AEMs are sardines waiting for the drop.'

'COB, how's my boat?' Fullback asked her chief of the boat.

'Good to go, ma'am. The boat is in top order, and there are no complaints from the crew other than the long hours, the shitty pay, and a goddamned slave-driving SOB of a CO.' Command Master Chief Petty Officer William H. Edwards had been the COB of the Thatcher, serving under Captain Walker, and he had ridden the supercarrier all the way to the surface of Mars with her. His last-second heroic efforts to bring the power back online to several key systems of the crashing starship enabled them to save Mons City. The COB had gotten a medal for his actions: a metal crowbar that he had been attempting to use as a circuit fuse was explosively thrown through him, impaling his shoulder. After hearing of the story, several members of the bridge crew had found the same crowbar and had it bent into a heart shape and painted it purple. Captain Sharon Walker presented it to the command master chief at the decommissioning ceremony of the Thatcher. The two had a bond from that battle and were nearly inseparable. There were even rumors of a budding romance between the two of them, but nobody could substantiate them or really imagine it. The captain at just under two meters tall with her bodybuilder's frame— hence the callsign Fullback—towered over Edwards by a full head, and the COB looked like he could use some serious PT. Romance or not, that the two most certainly shared something was obvious. But the crew respected them and minded their own business.

Besides, the CMC had earned the unique relationship with the captain in combat. Sharon would allow him to speak frankly to her on most issues at most times when she might be less approachable to other members of the command crew. This relationship had actually led other officers to approach the COB when they were unsure of approaching the captain with 'touchy' situations. Edwards had become Sharon's buffer zone and moat dragon.

'As it should be, Bill. Make a note to increase the beatings until morale improves. You should put yourself in for a few lashes as well.' Fullback smiled, flashing her brilliant white teeth, which contrasted with her dark ebony skin.

'Aye, ma'am.' The COB nodded.

Fullback took a deep breath and concentrated on the ship. Around her head was a virtual display of information about the flight and battle plans, the health of the supercarrier, and millions of other pieces of information continuously moving around her head in multicolored, three-dimensional overlays. The data came from the ship's diagnostics and battle management center and was transmitted to her by DTM link. The virtual information reached out in a sphere around her about a meter in diameter that only she could see.

Marley? she thought to her AIC.

Aye, Captain?

Are the hyperspace calculations set and ready for jaunt?

Aye, Captain.

Okay then, make the announcement.

Aye, Captain.

'General quarters! General quarters. All hands, prepare for hyperspace jaunt in one minute. Prepare for battle stations call,' Marley said over the 1MC intercom.

'Boulder, you've got the second deployment group.' Colonel John 'Burner' Masterson, commander of the U.S. Marine Corps FM-12 strike mecha squadron Cardiff's Killers, went through last-minute strategies with his second-in-command, Marine Captain Jason 'Boulder' Cordova. 'Once you get thrown out of the cat field, I want you and the other twenty Killers in your group to go to bot mode and get on the ground to find cover. The rest of us will be mixing up to cover you from above and behind. Your only thoughts should be to move forward and take that damned teleporter facility as quickly as you can. Got it?'

'Maximum velocity with maximum ferocity, Burner! Got it, sir.'

'Take the hill, marine. And happy Halloween,' Burner added.

'Oorah, sir.'

'We are gung-fucking-ho, Gunny!' Lance Corporal Tommy Suez shouted as he strapped on the shoulder harness for the ammo can on his armored e-suit. The AEMs of the Sienna Madira filled the deployment hangar and loaded the Starhawk SH-102s with gear. More than a dozen boxy armored troop carriers sat scattered about the hangar bay. Their pilots and gunners ran through systems checks and preflight planning. The marines scurried about the SH-102s with their personal armor, gear and mission-essential supplies. The gray deck plating was covered with armored crates and deployment tubes, which were filled with high-end explosives and ammo for the mission.

Suez locked his jumper boots into safe mode and attached the tether to his helmet, letting it dangle on his back next to the hyper- velocity automatic railgun (HVAR) that was strapped on there. The Seppy teleporter facility was only a few minutes away on the other side of a hyperspace conduit.

'Marines,' Gunnery Sergeant Tamara McCandless shouted over the noise of the bustle for their attention. 'We've got less than a half hour to get this gear strapped on and good to go. When we get the signal from our goddamned heroic flying angels that we can board these

Starhawks, I want to see it done in record fucking time! Is that understood?'

'Oorah, Gunny!' The hangar echoed with excitement and anxiety that could only be generated by the knowledge that the 3rd Armored E-suit Marines were about to be dropped into a grinder. Intel had uncovered the base and that there was Seppy activity, but there was little more than that. Nobody was quite certain how many Separatist armored troops were actually manning the facility. Some imagery had shown some Seppy mecha—Stinger transfigurable mecha like the U.S. Marine's FM-102s—and Orcus drop tanks like the U.S. Army's M3A17-Ts. The reconnaissance had also shown several squadrons of Gnat fighters and a couple of battle cruisers. So, there was nobody doubting that the base was protected. The question remained, however, as to just how protected.

Lance Corporal Suez had never seen battle before, and the pre- mission preparation was causing sweat to bead on his forehead. He didn't know if the sweat was from nerves or the fact that his e-suit temp was set too high, and he hadn't taken the premission meds. The marine ignored the salty streams for the most part unless they got in his eyes—but even then, he could only blink or shake his head. Rookie or no, the thousands of hours of training he had in the armored e-suits had removed the instinct of trying to wipe away the sweat with his hands. The armored gloves could rip his nose off if he was not careful. But Tommy was good. So good, in fact, that he'd demonstrated earlier to his fellow marines how, with the proper control of mind and body, you could unwrap a piece of Halloween candy and put it in your mouth without crushing the candy or ripping your lips off.

Tommy squinted his eyes a few times and then shook his head, flinging sweat droplets asunder.