would not be able to do it.”
“Good thing you only need to repair this one,” I said.
“From what I hear, repairing them is more difficult than building them, sir. It’s not like they carried spare parts on the ship. If that generator is damaged, it’s going to need replacement boards. We can’t just make them, sir. It’s not as easy as reloading a rifle.”
The thing about reloading a rifle was Mars’s subtle way of reminding me that no matter how many stars I carried on my shoulder boards, I was still a dumb Marine.
“And then there’s the broadcast engine. If the broadcast chain is damaged, I mean, General, the Corps of Engineers builds dams and electrical grids. You’re talking about one of the most sophisticated …”
“Lieutenant, we’re wasting time,” I said.
“No, sir. I am not wasting your time. I am trying to save time. I don’t want to waste time trying to fix a ship that I can’t possibly fix.” Mars and I had worked together in some tight corners. He was an honest man. That was one of the reasons he was still only a lieutenant. The officers who knew when to pucker and where to kiss generally rose through the ranks more quickly.
“The aliens are about to attack Gobi. If we don’t evacuate that planet, every man, woman, and child on Gobi is going to burn. They’re going to burn just like the people on Terraneau burned.
“I can’t evacuate Gobi unless I steal the Unifieds’ barges, and in order to steal them, I need a working spy ship,” I said. “I need that cruiser, stealth generator, broadcast engines, and all. Do you understand me?”
Then I said the phrase that officers use to end unpleasant conversations. I said, “You have your orders, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, and he saluted. My demands were unfair; but if I played fair, millions of people would die.
While Mars worked miracles, I assembled guns and men and ships.
I hoped we would find the barges moored near the Mars Spaceport, sitting empty and completely ignored. More likely we would find them guarded by a skeleton crew, security men who would slow us down at a time when every second wasted would cost lives.
Marines knew how to steal boats. It was in our skill set, but there were better men for the job. I once worked with a team of SEAL clones, little wiry bastards who specialized in stealth. It was in their genetic makeup. The U.A. designed them to vanish into the shadows and kill without making a sound. Clones were tools, after all. “A tool for every job and a job for every tool,” right? We all had our areas of specialty. SEALs and Special Operations clones strolled behind enemy lines and did the dirty work. Marines ran the invasions. Soldiers held down the fort. I wished I had a company of SEALs for this mission; but the last I’d heard, they’d gone with the Japanese Fleet to Bode’s Galaxy.
I studied a large holographic map of Mars—the planet, not the engineer. The map showed the planet with a blacked-out area representing the spaceport and the military base. Until we ran some sort of reconnaissance mission, we would not know the precise location of the barges or what kind of force guarded them.
When I explained my plan to the three admirals through the confabulator, Jolly drew in a hissing breath, shook his head, and said, “Risky tactics, General, launching a mission with no idea what you might be up against.”
Admiral Wallace, sarcastically referred to as “Warhawk Wallace” on the bridge of the
“Natural-borns who are loyal to the Enlisted Man’s Empire,” said Jolly.
“True, but natural-borns nonetheless,” Wallace said. “It’s a specking humanitarian effort.”
“Good point, Pete,” sneered Jolly. “Why don’t we just ring up Andropov and ask if we can borrow his barges?”
Wallace said, “I checked the specking orbits. Mars and Earth are approximately eighty million miles apart. Even with their fastest ships, the Unifieds will take three specking hours to respond.”
“They have self-broadcasting ships, Admiral,” I said. “They’ll need eight minutes to charge their broadcast engines. If we’re not out of there after eight minutes, the shooting starts.”
“General, can you give me a ballpark on how much time you’ll need to pull this off?” asked Jolly.
“Now how the speck did you come up with that?” asked Wallace.
“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Admiral Liotta. “That’s one second less than it takes the Unifieds to charge their broadcast engines.”
If Lieutenant Mars managed to get that cruiser operational and had time to repair the landing bays, we could wedge twenty-one transports onto that one tiny ship. That meant that four of our transports would need to return to the cruiser for a second crew of Marines if we planned on capturing all twenty-five barges; and capturing every available barge was an essential part of the plan.
Capturing the barges would be easier than securing them. They did not have gun turrets, security doors, or other measures to keep intruders out. Having figured out that the aliens were coming to Olympus Kri, the Unifieds had slapped the barges together as quickly as they could. Dealing with external security measures did not figure into the equation.
Once we boarded the barges, it was a question of knocking out security inside the barges. Like I said, that was the easy part. Flying the ships out might be a different question entirely.
I said, “The Unifieds won’t be expecting us. That should buy us a little time.
“If we broadcast in here,” I said, pointing at the side of Mars that pointed away from Earth, “we can use the planet to hide our anomaly from Earth. Assuming no one is out sightseeing on the far side of Mars, we should go unnoticed.
“If everything goes right, and they don’t spot the anomaly …” I paused, superstitiously believing that I had just jinxed myself. “If everything went right …” Everything never went right. “Assuming they don’t spot the anomaly, we should be able to approach the barges without being seen.” I traced a line around the planet.
“They’ll pick up your cruiser when you launch your transports,” said Jolly. “You can’t launch without lowering shields, and the transports won’t be cloaked.”
He was right, and I admitted as much. I said, “Yeah, but by then it should be too late. If we maneuver the spy ship in close enough, we should have crews aboard every barge in three minutes.”
As long as the Unifieds did not catch us broadcasting in, we’d be able to slide right up to the barges.
Jolly held up a pudgy hand to stop me. He said, “General, even if you reach the barges, how will you get them out without a broadcast station?”
Our broadcast network extended only to the planets we controlled. It was the remnant of the old Unified Authority Broadcast Network, the pangalactic superhighway that had once linked Earth to all of its 180 colonies. Back in those days, the satellite broadcast station orbiting Mars was the linchpin of the Network. The Mogats destroyed it during the civil war, cutting Earth off from its colonies.
“The Unifieds launched a temporary broadcast station for evacuation. That was how they got the barges to Olympus Kri,” I said.
“And you think they will let you use it to steal their barges, do you?” asked Admiral Jolly. He had a point.
“I think we can commandeer it along with the barges.”
“You’ll just hack into their security system, no problem.” Sarcasm oozed from his voice.
“Something like that,” I said. “Look, Admiral, the Unifieds aren’t expecting us to enter their space. They’re not going to have extensive security guarding that satellite.”
It was like breaking into a bank. There might be several layers of security, but they’re all outside the safe. Once you get past the front entrance, the counters, and the door of the safe, you’re in …right?
So much of my plan was based on guesswork, but we did not have much of a choice. If we’d had another week, we’d have had time to repair the spy ship and locate the barges. We’d have been able to breach their computer systems, too. In another week, the Avatari would incinerate two more planets. Millions of people would die. That did not seem to matter to the Unifieds. After evacuating Olympus Kri, they seemed to have decided that the only survival that mattered was their own.
