“You too, sir.”
The sky grew dark then. I was surprised, as I hadn’t thought the Macro was that close. Beams played overhead. It was firing at something. I couldn’t see what. I aimed up with my rifle, but there weren’t any turrets to shoot at. Was this some new variant machine, then?
A huge black arm on a long cable looped down and reached for me. I knew that arm well.
The Sergeant aimed at the arm, clearly planning to blow it off.
“Halt!” I shouted. “Hold your fire, Wilson! When this arm comes back down for you, let it grab you and take you out of this hole. That’s an order.”
He didn’t answer, but he did slowly lower his rifle. The arm lifted me up like the hand of an angel and drew me up into the Nano ship’s belly.
When Sandra met me inside, I didn’t even look surprised. She did, however.
Now, pick up the man who was with me, Alamo, I thought to my ship.
Extraction in progress.
25
The Alamo, to the best of my understanding, could hear my thoughts. Even though I hadn’t called for a rescue purposefully, it came for me as soon as it knew I was in mortal danger. I had never given it any commands not to do so. I had not realized they were necessary. Now I knew that if I wanted my ship to keep out of any battle I was in, I would have to give it explicit orders to stay home. I wondered if the ship would listen to me. When it came to protecting command personnel, the ship wasn’t always obedient.
Take us back to base at Andros Island, I told the Alamo.
ETA: seven minutes.
“She just ignored my questions, everything,” complained Sandra. “I should get a ship of my own. One that will listen to me.”
I glanced at her. “You’re enough of a killer. Go for it.”
“You’re not smiling.”
“Fighting toe-to-toe with these machines and surviving the experience leaves a man appreciating the small joys in life. But we just got our asses kicked. These guns I put on the backs of two thousand fine soldiers just got them all slaughtered.”
“It wasn’t your fault, Kyle. You tried.”
“That’s right sir,” said Sergeant Wilson behind me. The Alamo had dropped him off and he stepped onto the bridge.
I turned and shook the hand he offered me. But I did not feel that I fully deserved it.
“Commander Riggs?” he said to me, eyeing me closely. “You think this mess was all your fault, sir? Is that why you risked your life back there? Repeatedly? Despite orders?”
I looked at him. “Partly.”
“Well, it wasn’t, sir. Believe it or not, that was the best we’ve done in an open-combat situation with the machines. Everyone else has been slaughtered, but without so much as damaging the enemy. The only thing that’s ever worked has been nukes. Direct hits kill them. But we’re trying to figure out how to do it without destroying an entire continent.”
I nodded. “So am I, Sergeant.”
The man took off his pack and sighed. He threw back the hood on his suit. He leaned against one of the walls and slid down it until his butt hit the floor. I did the same, sitting next to him. We were both too dirty to sit on furniture. And suddenly, we were too tired to even walk as far as the couch.
I spent a few minutes sending messages to Crow and the rest of them. They promised to head in and pick up every survivor they could without endangering their ships.
“Nice place you’ve got here, Commander,” Wilson said. “Weird, all this furniture and stuff inside one of these ships. Looks almost homey.”
We were still leaning against the wall. I felt dazed and drained after fighting for my life, and Wilson apparently felt the same way. Sandra brought us drinks. We drained them immediately. She refilled them and we drained them again. I realized I had no urge to urinate, none at all. We were dehydrated.
After another minute or so, Sandra caught sight of my wrecked arm and freaked out a little. I’d been hiding it under the folds and flaps of my suit. She began tending the wounds with grim attention. For the most part, I suspected her efforts were wasted. The Nanos would fix me given time, or they wouldn’t and I would be minus one arm. First aid wasn’t going to do much for that mess. But I let her do it, as I knew it would make her feel better if she thought she was helping.
“Wilson,” I said to the man who sat next to me. He was still staring at nothing. He looked exhausted and haunted. “What would have helped back there? To win that battle? What improvement would have done it?”
He thought about it. He hefted the laser rifle I’d designed. He’d carried the damned thing all the way up into the belly of my ship. Like a good soldier, he hadn’t abandoned his rifle. It made my face burn, thinking of all the men who had trusted these guns, guns that hadn’t done the job in the end.
“I don’t know sir,” he said, shaking his head. “These are fantastic weapons, but they just don’t pack enough punch. We would need larger ones, I suppose. But then they would be heavier, with bigger packs. I don’t think a man could move under another hundred pounds of kit.”
I nodded, thinking. Wilson was right. The reactors had to be bigger. And the men, therefore, had to be stronger.
I shed my filthy, soot-stained suit and sat on my couch. I got out a satellite communications unit. It folded open and was about the size of a briefcase. The Pentagon boys had assured me I could reach them with it from anywhere, as long as I wasn’t out in space past the orbit of the Moon. Even then, it might work.
In less than a minute, I was in contact with the Pentagon. I gave them what I could in the way of a report. I didn’t have the entire picture of the battle outcome of course, only my own small part of it.
“Sir?” asked Wilson.
I looked up from the surface computer, where I’d been eyeing some design schematics. “What is it, Sergeant?”
“Sir, I would serve with you again any time. I thought you might want to know that. You did your best, sir. And I’ve never seen a man with an injury like that keep on fighting.”
I looked at him seriously for several seconds. “Would you consider joining us, Sergeant? If it was the only way to destroy these Macros?”
The man blinked in surprise. “I wouldn’t want to do anything against America, sir.”
“Of course not. We are a force dedicated to saving this entire world.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m cut out to be some kind of alien ship captain.”
“No, not as a pilot. We would need you as a Marine. A different kind of Marine. A man who jumps out of ships like airborne, but from higher up, if you get my meaning. The kind of man who is the ground-pounder of Star Force.”
He stared at me, thinking hard. “I’m not sure exactly what you are asking, sir.”
“If you believed joining us was the best way to save this world-and all of humanity, would you be interested?”
Slowly, Wilson nodded. “Yes sir, if I believed that, I think I would.”
“Good. That’s all I needed to know. If the opportunity arises, and we manage to convince you someday, come look me up.”
“I’ll do that, Commander,” he said, and I knew that he would.
When we reached Andros Island, I had the ship unload Sergeant Wilson directly on the doorstep of our medical installation. He was one survivor I could be sure had made it home. More arrived soon after, I was glad to see. The ships had been busy. But still, I had to figure our losses had been grim. I made sure our dirtsider staff took down each survivor’s name and had them all report in.
I shook my head. In my own thoughts, I’d just referred to everyone whose feet were on the ground as a
