14
“How long ago?” I asked him, glancing aside at the looming curve of the power plant’s central dome as if I could see them, as if I could make out the external signs of their attack over the chaos and the flames and the explosions rising up all over Deltaville.
“Five minutes. Not nearly long enough to have reached their objective.” His tone was scolding, preemptively so, as if he was trying to justify his decision before announcing it. “He thought we could hold off the enemy long enough for him to get there, but I saw a force of High Guard and Shock-Troopers bypassing our position to the south.”
“I could take the rest of Delta Company and reinforce him,” I said immediately, taking a step as if to go right now, urgency pulling at me. Five minutes was an eternity in combat, despite Cronje’s dismissal.
“Negative,” he said, the denial flat and broaching no argument. “We’re going to do just what he said and stay here in a good, defensive position.”
“Sir,” Vicky said, and I finally noticed she’d moved up onto the steppe beside us, “Captain Covington ordered me to go out and find the rest of the battalion in order to complete the mission. He’d clearly taken command of the battalion in the absence of Colonel Voss and the XO. He never said anything about keeping the Marines here.”
“And he’s gone, Lieutenant!” Cronje reminded her. I couldn’t see his face, but I could picture it, soft-edged, round, and florid. “He left me in command here, and my orders are for the entire battalion to maintain a defensible position until such time as we can contact the Fleet for air support. Leaving this position without air cover is suicide!”
“You aren’t seriously going to let Captain Covington die out there with no reinforcement, are you?” I blurted. It was stupid, I knew it even as the words tumbled out. I wasn’t going to accomplish anything by antagonizing him. But some things can’t be kept inside.
“I know you’re a worthless hood rat from the Underground with a problem taking orders from your superiors, Alvarez,” he replied, anger and disgust dripping from his tone, “but I’m in command and no one is going anywhere! Unless you’d like to try again for the court-martial you deserve.”
I stared in silence at the optical display on my helmet’s interior screen, my guts seething, the muscles in my shoulders bunched up as if I could reach through the suit and punch the asshole in the face. I did nothing, said nothing for a long second. Somewhere to the east, I thought I saw a lightening on the horizon that might have been the approaching dawn, or could just have been part of the city on fire.
“Lt. Sandoval,” I said, finally, broadcasting on the battalion net so every single Marine could hear it, “what were Captain Covington’s last orders before he sent you out to find us?”
“He told me to bring in any battalion elements I could locate,” she said without hesitation, “and bring them to his location so we could complete our assigned mission.”
“It doesn’t matter what…,” Cronje tried to interrupt, but I cut him off. He probably didn’t think I could do it, that he had the command override on his suit that would let him take control of the battalion comm network, but I’d learned the secrets of the Vigilante from the best, from a Warrant who knew them better than the men and women who’d designed them.
“Lt. Kodjoe,” I went on, finding Freddy Kodjoe on the IFF overlay a few dozen meters away from our position, “do you concur that these were Captain Covington’s last orders?”
That was a risk. Freddy hadn’t given me any indication he’d changed his attitude toward me or what had happened. I was making a bet with myself that the Freddy Kodjoe I’d known at OCS wouldn’t lie, no matter what he thought of me now.
“That’s what the captain said,” he confirmed, proving me right. He added, “It’s all going to be in the mission recordings on our suits,” as if he was trying to apologize to Cronje for agreeing with me.
“Alvarez…,” Cronje began, but I cut him off again.
“I’ll just take my platoon,” I volunteered, hating myself for it, for having to bend over for Cronje, for putting my platoon at risk and letting him sit here in relative safety. “You’ll still have plenty of troops to hold off the High Guard.” Plenty of troops to keep your ass safe, I didn’t say but thought as loud as I could.
He didn’t answer immediately, and I imagined I could see the gears grinding in his brain, considering if this was his best chance to be rid of me once and for all.
“Go,” he told me. “If you want to commit suicide, I won’t be the one to talk you off the ledge.”
“You’re not going to just send one platoon, are you, sir?” Freddy asked, something between disbelief and horror in his voice.
“Shut up, Kodjoe,” Cronje snarled at the man. “Get your platoon arrayed on the defensive perimeter. That’s a fucking order.”
Vicky and Freddy were still talking, arguing with Cronje, but I didn’t wait around for him to change his mind, switching to the platoon net and shutting everything else out.
“Third Platoon,” I ordered, “follow me on the hop. We’re staying low and hugging the side of the hill until we’re over the top.”
Maybe I was leading them to their deaths, and to mine, but one of my first trainers had told me, the mission always came first. The mission, he’d said, the troops, and then you. And if the troops and I had to sacrifice to accomplish the mission, well, that was why we were Marines in the first place.
“First squad, you’re in the lead,” I went on. “And remember, Delp—no electron beams to the face. That’s an order.”
“Sir,” Bang-Bang said, something hesitant in his voice. I checked the feed and saw it was private between us.
“What is it, Gunny?”
