Major Barrera looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Impossible, sir. But they might have gotten a report concerning our recent tactics and brought this vessel to correct a perceived weakness.”
“It was more than perceived!” I said, almost shouting. I took a deep breath and forced my mind to cool down. “Do these defensive pods give the dreadnaught complete coverage from every angle?”
“We’ve been working on that for the last minute or two,” Major Barrera said. He brought up another screen with a wire-frame analysis of the giant ship. A series of domed regions grew outward from the ship forming reddish shells around it.
“See these regions?” Barrera asked, touching the three dome-like shells in turn. “They are our projected areas of enemy defensive fire. It appears that the pods do cover the ship from every angle, but it is most vulnerable from the flat underside. Anything approaching from that direction would have to face the six cannons, but the light defensive pods would be relatively ineffective.”
“Six of those big cannons firing at you? That’s suicide,” Sandra said.
No one argued with her.
“Missile ports?” I asked. I was a glutton for punishment.
“There is one accompanying each of the defensive pods,” Barrera said. “I’m not sure how many tubes they have in each grouping. I would assume this ship can fire a large number of missiles, given the enemy’s fixation on them as their primary armament.”
I straightened my back and clapped my hands together, making a loud popping noise. Everyone except for Barrera winced in response.
“Well,” I said, “the enemy intentions are clear. They’ll fly here behind that big bastard. If we throw missiles or flying marines at them, the defensive guns will take them out before we can reach the core of their fleet. When they get to Earth, the dreadnaught will roll over and use the cannons to bombard us-along with their missile salvoes.”
“Here’s the part where you demand I fly my Fleet out there to die gloriously, right mate?” Crow asked.
I shook my head slowly. “A head-on assault would be suicide. We’ve got about thirty destroyers now, but only the new ones you built are fully armed. The older ones were decoys as much as anything else. We have time to improve their weaponry, but that’s it. Gathering every additional ship we could, I doubt we could put up more than another sixty small ships. Less than a hundred vessels all told. Even without the dreadnaught, they would have three times our firepower.”
“What are we going to do then?” Crow demanded.
“We’re going to have to let them get in close. Real close. That way, the dreadnaught can’t protect the rest of their fleet.”
They were silent for a second as they digested that idea.
“But,” Major Sarin said, speaking for the first time in a long while. “If we did that, won’t they be able to fire on Earth, Colonel?”
“They’d have that opportunity, yes,” I said.
“They have invasion ships too. Six of them.”
“I can count. If anyone else has a better plan, I want to hear it right now.”
Everyone fell silent. No one looked happy. Even the unflappable Major Barrera was glowering at the screen. All of them knew the score. We were charged with the defense of Earth. Except for a few thousand modified ICBMs the Earthers could fire into the mix, we were the only thing standing between humanity and annihilation. Unfortunately, we were going to have to let this enemy come in close before engaging them. Very close.
“Hey!” Sandra said, pointing and tapping at the screen. “See that? That little yellow contact lifting off Venus behind the Macro fleet? Is that…?”
“Yeah,” I said, unable to keep a hint of bitterness out of my voice. “That’s Marvin. My guess is he’s been hiding in the blue giant system on the other side of the ring. Now that the Macros are out of the way, he’s finally come back here to watch the show.”
— 13
They’d turned off the sirens, but everyone was tense, watching the skies. At their current acceleration rate, we had several days before the Macros reached Earth. We were going to use every second we had to dig in.
I managed to slip out a couple of hours after the Macros left Venus’ orbit. I had the entire staff busy by then. I exited the headquarters building and made it all the way to my bungalow unnoticed.
This suit was one of the newer models. I’d made many refinements over the last few weeks and had come up with a superior design. Sandra had even put in a few additions of her own when I’d been too busy to work on them. In some cases, just trimming back the overlap of the armor plates increased my freedom of movement. I’d also beefed the fusion generator somewhat. The initial system didn’t really provide enough power to keep both beam projectors embedded in the suit’s arms going while the system was in flight. That was a critical drawback. If my marines were going into battle as swarms of tiny fighters in space, they had to be able to fly and shoot at the same time.
I had my battle suit half on by the time Sandra found me. When the door slammed, I played it cool.
“Ah, there you are,” I called out. “Could you help me with my helmet? This thing is still hard to put on solo.”
Sandra stalked over to me and crossed her arms under her breasts. She gave me a withering stare. “Just where do you think you’re going?”
“Um…to war,” I said. “Helmet?”
She took the helmet away from me and bounced it around in her hands as if it was a basketball. I knew it weighed about as much as she did. Her strength still surprised me sometimes.
“You were going to ditch me. Again. Don’t even try to deny it. You are a serial-ditcher.”
“Uh, I have a war to run, Sandra. At times, that is bound to put me in harm’s way.”
She shook her head, ducking as I reached for my helmet. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t need to be in a battle suit days before the Macros get here. There’s only one reason you would be dressing up like this.”
I sighed. “Yes, you’re right. I’m going up. I have to.”
“Why, Kyle?” she asked. Her voice shifted to a high, almost tearful note.
“I’ve got a plan. I really do. If it works, it might save this world another bloodbath.”
“Let somebody else do it.”
“I would if I could. But truthfully, no one else can.”
Deflated, she lifted up my helmet and slid it down on my head. I winced as it went over my face. Sometimes, if put on roughly, these things could rip your nose half-off. But she did it gently.
“You know,” she said as she adjusted my suit here and there. “I read in school that Samurai wives would sometimes help put on their husband’s Yoroi armor before battle. They would line his body with a layer of silk, then the armor. They would make sure it was done right to ensure he would return from battle.”
“I can’t take you with me,” I said. “Not this time.”
“That means you’re not coming back,” she said.
“I’m-I’m really not sure if I am or not.”
She hauled off then and kicked me in my heavily-armored butt. The kick was so hard I actually felt some sensation and rocked forward a bit. Inside my helmet, I grinned.
“What happened to all that business about understanding?” I demanded.
“I have my limits.”
Sandra left me then, but turned around in the doorway.
“Come back,” she said, “or I’ll kill you myself.”
With that stunning display of logic, she walked out of the bungalow into the afternoon sun. She left the door standing open behind her. A fresh breeze stirred the paper plates on the kitchen table and ruffled our blinds, but I couldn’t feel it through the suit. After a minute or so of checking my readouts, I clanked out of the house and headed for the landing pits.
I’d always wanted to fly one of the new destroyers. I could have gone up in Socorro, but I didn’t feel like it.
