The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier Steadfast

THREE




HOURS crawled by as Dauntless held orbit near Old Earth and Tanya Desjani grew steadily more ill-tempered.

Her outlook had not been improved by the responses of two of the Alliance senators aboard the ship. Senator Costa had scowled when first told of the missing officers. “Is this going to delay our return to Alliance space?” The silence that had followed her question brought a slight flush to Costa’s face before she made an inadequate attempt at a dignified retreat.

Senator Suva had not done much better, her first reaction being “You’re not going to charge those two officers with a crime, are you?”

Fortunately for the reputation of the Alliance Senate, which could not have sunk much further in the eyes of the fleet in any event, Senator Sakai had also responded to the news with a question, but one which raised his status considerably in the eyes of the crew. “What can I do to help?”

For her part, Victoria Rione remained dead serious in her words and gestures, a disquieting sign of how concerned she was. “I’m hearing nothing,” she confided to Geary. “I don’t think my sources are lying. They truly can’t find them, and if your missing officers had run off together for a romantic honeymoon amidst the ruins of Earth, they would have been found long before this.”

Nearly ten hours after the disappearance of the lieutenants, Geary was pretending to get administrative work done in his stateroom when his comm panel buzzed urgently. Desjani looked fierce and angry as she spoke to him. “We’ve received news about my lieutenants from the locals.”

“Did they find them?”

“No. What they found was proof that Lieutenant Castries and Lieutenant Yuon have been kidnapped and taken off Old Earth.” She tapped a control and the screen split to show an elderly man waiting patiently. He was sitting behind an impressive wooden desk which must have been several centuries old, a painting of a single, solitary volcanic peak crowned with snow hanging on the wall behind his left shoulder. Everything about the office, including the man behind the desk, spoke of age and history. “Please summarize for the Admiral what you just told me,” Desjani said to him.

The old man inclined his head slightly toward Desjani, then looked at Geary. “After much sifting of data, we discovered DNA samplings taken at a cargo facility in our area of responsibility, samplings which match those of your officers.”

“DNA samplings?” Geary asked.

“From minute particles, flakes of skin, the sort of thing humans shed constantly.” The man made an apologetic gesture. “The amount of DNA was very tiny, requiring much extra effort to find and analyze, but we have no doubt of our finding. Based on the other records at that cargo facility, we are confident that your officers were smuggled off the planet using modified cargo containers, which are sometimes employed by criminals for such purposes.”

Geary rubbed his head with both hands as he absorbed the news. “They’re not on Earth anymore? Do you know which ship those cargo containers went to?”

“We do.” The man held up a restraining hand before Geary could say anything else. “But they are no longer on that ship.” He touched some controls of his own and the screen split again, now also showing the boxy shape of a cargo vessel orbiting Old Earth. “You see here that another craft docked with the ship. You see? A small, stealthy craft, which only became clear to our sensors when it was locked to the ship. After a brief time, it broke free, and we lost track of it.” The elderly man bowed his head again. “I regret to say that we have been unable to establish the position and vector of that craft though we have picked up a few traces that may well correlate to it.”

“A stealth craft?” Geary studied what could be seen on the third screen. “Tanya, that looks like one of the stealth craft that tried to intercept our shuttle.”

She nodded. “That’s what I thought. The characteristics match. Which means it’s from Mars and probably on its way back there now. Request permission to—”

“Your pardon,” the old man interrupted, his voice gentle but somehow carrying enough authority to check Desjani’s words. “If this craft is from Mars, and such an origin would not surprise me in the least, they will not be going back there, not while carrying your officers. They will seek another location, one where they may hide, and where if they are located, it will not compromise the identities and allegiances of their superiors.”

“Any guesses where they would hide?” Geary asked.

The man pondered the question for a moment before replying. “The belt, or beyond. There are many places among the asteroid belt or the outer planets where a craft of that size could lie unnoticed given its ability to conceal itself.”

Desjani had been studying something to one side and now looked back at the elderly man from Earth again. “These traces you picked up. How confident are you of them?”


“That they belong to the craft we seek? Fairly confident. That they show precise locations? I have little confidence of that. You see how large the probability cones are around those trace detections.”

“I do,” Desjani conceded. “But I’ve been driving ships for a long time. I can look at something like that and feel where it’s leading. That craft is heading for Jupiter,” she concluded.

The old man reacted with only a slight rise of his eyebrows, which was replaced by a long moment of deep thought. “That is a likely destination for someone seeking to hide. Jupiter has sixty-seven natural moons, a planetary ring of much smaller objects, and twenty major human facilities orbiting the planet in addition to numerous smaller artificial objects. There are many small settlements among the moons of Jupiter, and the craft we seek is capable of landing on bodies with atmospheres as weak as that of the Jovian moons. In particular, Io’s turbulent surface activity would help conceal the craft, while Ganymede, like Mars, is notorious for its many ties to organized criminal activity.”

“They left Earth orbit nearly twenty hours ago,” Desjani grumbled. “They could be halfway to that asteroid belt by now. Admiral, I’m working up an intercept based on their probable vector and those trace detections. If we get close enough, we’ll spot them. Request permission to leave orbit and proceed to intercept.”

Geary glanced at the elderly man, who made no sign of approval or disapproval. You want to leave this to us, do you? Let the barbarians do their own dirty work. “What velocity are you using?” he asked Desjani.

“It ramps up to point three light before we start braking again for the intercept.”

That would create quite a spectacle in Sol Star System, an Alliance battle cruiser roaring toward the orbit of Jupiter at a pace that would make nearly every other spacecraft here look snail-like by comparison. And, for the occupants of that Martian stealth craft, it would mean watching a massive warship heading at great velocity for something very close to an intercept with them.

“Yes, Captain,” Geary said. “You may proceed toward an intercept with the criminal stealth craft. Let’s put on a show that will impress whoever took our lieutenants. Thank you, sir,” he added to the old man, “for your assistance in this matter.”

“I have done nothing,” the man replied, his expression totally serious. “Tell that to anyone who inquires. This contact and my transfer of information to you have not been fully approved and vetted by my government. Such an approval process will take some months to complete, so I have conducted a dry run. A simulation of passing such information to you, so that I would be ready when approval comes. Officially, I have done nothing.”

“I understand,” Geary said. “Your simulation was highly effective. Thank you for letting me evaluate it.”

“The pleasure was mine. The needs of friends must not be neglected. Perhaps, at some future date, we shall have needs that you will be pleased to consider addressing.” Another small bow toward Geary, then the old man’s image vanished.

Tanya Desjani had not wasted another minute. As Geary finished speaking, Dauntless’s thrusters were already slewing the battle cruiser about, followed by the surge of the main propulsion units kicking in and hurling the warship out of the mass of space traffic near Old Earth.

Geary watched the globe that was the Home of all humanity diminish in size as Dauntless accelerated away from it toward an intercept with the craft that was itself heading toward the orbit of Jupiter. He had never expected to visit Jupiter, or this star system. He wondered if, once the lieutenants were rescued, he would ever return.

? ? ?

AT their closest, Earth and Jupiter were only about thirty-five light-minutes apart. A mere six hundred thirty million kilometers or so. But that could only happen when both planets were on the same side of the sun and lined up perfectly in their orbits. Even if the two planets had been that close when Dauntless began her hunt, neither of them was going to stay still. Planets had to be intercepted, chased or cut off, as they raced along their orbits. In the case of Jupiter, the gas giant had been moving around the star Sol at better than thirteen kilometers per second since long before the first human raised a wondering gaze to the night sky, and might still be doing so when the last human had gone to whatever fate awaited the species.

In this case, Dauntless faced a long, curving route through space adding up to one and a half light-hours before she would reach Jupiter. She would have to accelerate part of the way, then brake at the end so as not to overshoot her target, reducing her average velocity to about point one six light speed.

“It will take us just under ten hours to get there,” Desjani told Geary. “Which would be fine, except that the guy we’re chasing has a ten-hour head start on us.”

“He can’t have gone as fast as we will,” Geary said.

“No. Even if he could accelerate at the same rate we could, which I seriously doubt, he would have to limit acceleration to keep from compromising his stealth so badly that even the sensors in this star system could spot it. But once we get within a light-hour of that guy, we will be able to see him no matter what.”

Geary settled into his seat on the bridge of Dauntless, gazing at the curving tracks on his display. Two showed brightly, that which Dauntless would follow, and that which was estimated to be the track of the craft they were hunting. Around those two long curves, a crazy quilt of dim arcs marked the projected movements of numerous other spacecraft and natural objects. Some of those arcs were changing as he watched, moving away from the bright line of Dauntless’s vector, marking course changes by spacecraft that had projected Dauntless’s path and wanted to stay well clear of the mad people from the stars and their powerful warship. “What are we going to do when we catch them?” he asked Desjani.

She gave him a puzzled look. “Tell them to turn over our two officers or die.”

“What if they refuse? They’ve got Castries and Yuon as hostages.”

Tanya waved one hand in a nonchalant manner. “And I’ve got a platoon of Marines.”

“You don’t think this might require more . . . subtlety . . . than Marines usually employ?”

“Fleet Marines are trained in hostage-rescue ops,” Desjani insisted. “And, personally, I think heavily armed Marines in full battle armor is just the kind of subtle approach this calls for.”

“Tanya,” Geary said carefully, “the people who kidnapped Castries and Yuon will see us coming. We can’t surprise them. We don’t have a stealth-configured shuttle or Marine scout stealth armor.”

She glared at her display. “What approach does the Admiral prefer?”

“There are a lot of local law-enforcement craft near Jupiter. Police, Space Guard, and some specialized investigation and enforcement outfits. A kidnapping falls into the category of routine procedure for them.”

Desjani kept her eyes looking front, but her frown deepened. “We’re supposed to depend on them? It will take them six years just to get bureaucratic clearance to talk to us.”

“If that happens,” Geary said, “we will act.”

She finally looked at him again. “Promise?”

“Yes. But I need to ask them for assistance before we act unilaterally.”

“Fine. We’ll ask, they’ll stall, and we’ll handle things.”


He had a strong suspicion that she was right.

? ? ?

THEY were six light-minutes from Jupiter, less than an hour’s travel time away, when a symbol popped into existence on the bridge displays. “Got him!” Desjani exulted, adjusting the battle cruiser’s course to achieve a perfect intercept.

“He’s awfully close to Jupiter,” Geary said.

“Yes, but we’ve got him now. We can track him wherever he goes.”

Geary judged the positions of the various law-enforcement spacecraft at or near Jupiter, then decided on a simple broadcast. “This is Admiral Geary on the Alliance battle cruiser Dauntless. We have a solid track on a stealth craft operated by criminals, which is carrying two of our officers who were kidnapped on the surface of Earth. I am attaching our tracking data for your use. I request all possible assistance in intercepting the craft and rescuing our two officers. To the honor of our ancestors,” he added in the formal ending that seemed both necessary and appropriate. “Geary, out.”

He waited impatiently as the minutes crawled by. It would take six minutes for his transmission to be received by the ships near Jupiter, and even though Dauntless was currently closing the distance at a velocity just under point two light speed, it would still take at least five minutes for any answers to cover the distance back to Dauntless. How long would the police and Space Guard ships debate what to do before they replied to him?

As it turned out, he saw the movements of a number of those ships before the replies began coming in. Some were positive, as from Lieutenant Cole of the Sol Space Guard cutter Shadow near Callisto. “We are moving to intercept the criminal vessel. Kidnapping is a crime under Sol System law, no matter the origin of the victim, so this falls under our jurisdiction. We are informing our superiors but require no special approval from our chain of command to take action.”

Others were more cautious, as from Senior Officer Bular on Police Pursuit Craft Twelve of Jovian Orbiting Habitat Sparhawk. “We are moving toward the craft you have identified but have requested clarification from our headquarters. We will require approval from them prior to taking any action against the craft you say is involved in criminal activity.”

And some were along the lines of the reply from Inspector Toyis of the Special Ganymede Bureau of Investigation. “We regret that we are unable to respond to your request at this time. Your request for action has been forwarded to our head office, where it will receive full consideration. You will be notified when our head office has reached a decision. If you are no longer in Sol Star System at that time, our head office will not attempt to forward its decision but will maintain it on file for ten standard solar years. When inquiring about the status of your request, reference Standard Application For Assistance, Forwarding And Consideration Form 15667 Revision Twenty Five, Serial 3476980-554-3651.”

Desjani stared at her display after that message ended, looking as if she didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry. “Admiral, after we finish with the kidnappers, is it all right if we destroy the head office of the Special Ganymede Bureau of Investigation?”

“I’m tempted, but no,” Geary said. “Permission to destroy their head office will probably require some sort of special form, and we can’t hang around waiting for their reply to our application to annihilate them.”

“They probably do have a form for that,” Desjani agreed, then indicated three ships weaving orbits about another moon of Jupiter. “Did you see the reply from these guys?” She tapped a control.

Geary saw a lean, hawk-faced man’s image appear before him. “This is Commander Nkosi of the Special Quarantine Enforcement Division. We are in receipt of your request but are unable to assist. Our orders require us to maintain positions enforcing the quarantine of Europa. No exceptions are authorized. If the criminal craft comes close to one of my ships, we will act if we can do so without leaving our assigned region.”

“Europa quarantine duty?” Geary asked. “I can see why they aren’t allowed to leave their posts.”

“No,” Desjani agreed. “I’ll give those guys a pass for not being able to help. Can you imagine having to spend weeks and months orbiting Europa? Looking down at those old cities and installations filled with nothing but the dead?”

“I wouldn’t enjoy it.” He gazed at the depiction of Europa on the display. “It’s so bright. Covered with ice sheets. I remember when in school they showed us the vids from Europa, I was struck by how bright the moon looked. It seemed impossible that it was contaminated by a bioengineered plague that had wiped out every human on that moon.”

“He altered course,” Desjani said, pointing to her display, where the stealth craft’s projected track had swung slightly. “Just a small adjustment. He doesn’t realize yet that we’re tracking him.”

Over the next half hour, it became apparent that enough vessels near Jupiter were moving on intercepts from enough different angles that the stealth craft was boxed in. Its only path for escape would have been back toward Sol, but Dauntless was coming on relentlessly from that direction. And, by now, whoever was on that stealth craft must have seen all those ship movements and realized what they meant.

Rione had come onto the bridge, taking the observer’s seat at the back and peering at the display there. “Am I right that it is merely a question now of which ship that stealth craft surrenders to?”

“You’re correct,” Geary said.

“I came up here to tell you that the ransom demands had been received, but those demands appear to have been overtaken by events.”

“What did they want in exchange for our officers?” Geary asked.

“Technical specs and equipment,” Rione said, intent on her display as if watching a movie play out. “All stealth-related. They want our state-of-the-art. Which they would then sell to everyone with enough to offer in exchange.”

He didn’t answer, feeling a tight sensation inside at the realization that he could not have agreed to that. If they hadn’t been able to intercept that craft, he would have been faced with a very ugly decision.

Tanya must have realized the same thing. She didn’t look toward him as she spoke in a low voice. “They would have understood that you couldn’t agree to that. We all would have understood.”

“Do you think that would allow me to ever forgive myself?” he asked.

“No. But it’s the only comfort I would have had to offer. Thank the living stars—” Her voice broke off and she sat straighter, eyes intent. “What’s he doing?”

Geary focused more closely on his own display as he saw the stealth craft, within minutes of being intercepted by some of its pursuers, suddenly veer onto a different vector and accelerate. “He’s heading for the only opening that’s left.” He wondered if his voice reflected the horror he was feeling.

“That’s not an opening!” Desjani protested. “He’s heading into Europa’s atmosphere!”

“Why was that opening left for him?” Rione demanded in shocked tones.

“Because no one in their right mind would go that way!” Geary answered. “Get the word out to all of the other ships,” he ordered the bridge crew. “Tell them what that craft’s new vector is.”


They were close enough now that it took only a few minutes for the updated information to reach all of the pursuing ships, but those critical few minutes made all the difference. The quarantine-enforcement ships had been caught flat-footed as well by the sudden maneuver and were now twisting about frantically to reach the stealth craft.

But only Dauntless had a solid track on the stealth craft, and Dauntless was still too far away. As the nearest ships fumbled for attempted intercepts, the stealth craft penetrated Europa’s atmosphere.

“He’s braking,” Desjani said. “He’s braking hard. Ancestors save us. He’s going to land.”

As they watched helplessly, the stealth craft came in to a gentle landing on the riven ice sheets that covered forbidden, dead Europa.

For one of the few times that Geary had known her, Victoria Rione had shed all pretense and feigned indifference. She was staring aghast at her own display as she called across the silence filling the bridge. “What can you do? Admiral, what can you do?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “If there is anything we can do, I’ll find it.”

? ? ?

DAUNTLESS had settled into orbit about Jupiter, close to and matching the motion of Europa. About a dozen other ships were matching her orbit, waiting to see what the Alliance battle cruiser would do. The stealth craft sat silently on the surface of Europa, not broadcasting any demands but able to be spotted by every ship now that it was resting on the ice.

Geary sat in his stateroom with three other people: Tanya and Victoria Rione, who had managed to take up positions as far as possible from each other, and Dr. Nasr. “Doctor, do you know anything about the bug that wiped out life on Europa?”

Dr. Nasr nodded, his mouth twitching with distaste. “I know enough. It is a bacterium, genetically modified from an original form which caused no ill effects and is indeed beneficial to the human body.”

“Is?” Rione asked. “You’re certain that it’s still there? Still viable?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t they use something lethal?” Geary asked. “As long as they were making a bioweapon, why not start with something that was already bad?”

“Because,” Nasr explained in a quiet voice, “they wanted to ensure that the bacteria did not trigger bioalert sensors. By using something originally innocuous, they hoped they would slip unnoticed past any defenses.” He closed his eyes as if trying to block the sight of visions of the past. “In this, they were extremely successful. Their own biodefenses did not spot or give an alert on the bacteria when they escaped their control.”

Desjani made an angry noise deep in her throat. “They were clever enough to make something that deadly but too stupid to program their own defenses to spot it?”

“I am guessing,” Dr. Nasr replied, “from my own experience, that the creation of the deadly bacteria was held within a highly classified program. It was kept secret from those who could have reprogrammed the defenses because such reprogramming might have compromised the existence and characteristics of the virus. I do not know this for certain, but I feel confident that was the reasoning employed.” The bitter tone of his voice left no doubt as to the doctor’s opinion of that reasoning.

“You’re probably right,” Geary said. “Stupider things have been done in the name of secrecy. Why are you sure the bacteria are still there? They killed every human on Europa centuries ago.”

“So you think the quarantine is a matter of habit or tradition rather than need?” Nasr asked. “No, Admiral. The bacteria are still there. Certain bacteria can survive much longer than centuries even when exposed to the radiation, vacuum, and other conditions of space. From what I know, from how the bacteria spread across Europa and the countermeasures taken to enforce the quarantine, the genetically engineered bioweapon was made to go dormant under harsh conditions, then activate when in a suitable environment to infect human hosts. You would have to assume the bacteria are present anywhere you landed on Europa, even if only a few of them.”

“And one bacterium would be enough,” Geary said.

“One would be enough.”

“Why did those idiots land there?” Desjani demanded.

“Because they are idiots,” Rione said, upset enough to actually answer Desjani directly. “They were hired for a job, chased, trapped, and saw a way out. They took it. Even though it was stupid.”

“Actually,” Geary said, “they may have thought it was incredibly clever.”

“What could possibly be clever about it?” Rione demanded.

Geary pointed to the image of Europa floating above the table like a very large Ping-Pong ball with tan patches and striations all over its surface. “They knew no one could chase them down there, and for some reason the locals aren’t firing on them. They must have known they can sit on the surface without being attacked. They’re probably planning to sit there for months. We can’t wait here for months. When we leave, they can lift, go stealthy again, and escape past the blockade.”

Dr. Nasr shook his head. “No. It would not work. No one, no friends of theirs, would accept them for fear of the plague.”

“Exactly. That’s the stupid part of their clever plan. But if they can get off the surface and away from Europa, they can spread the plague.”

Rione gazed at the image of Europa. “The quarantine ships couldn’t stop them? That gives us leverage if we can come up with a plan.”

Once again, Nasr shook his head. “We cannot go down, and we cannot allow them to come up. The craft did not land near any of the dead cities, but we do not know how much the plague may have spread across the surface of Europa. It only takes one bacterium,” he repeated.

Geary looked toward Desjani. “Any ideas?”

She shook her head angrily. “No. We can’t use the Marines. Their battle armor would keep out the plague. It’s designed to do that sort of thing. But we don’t have battlefield decontamination gear with us, and can’t be sure that would be good enough against this bug. If something was on the outside of their armor when they came back aboard Dauntless . . .” Her words trailed off because they all knew what could happen, and none of them wanted to spell it out.

Several seconds passed without anyone’s saying anything, then Dr. Nasr held up his forefinger, his eyes clouded with thought. “The battle armor will keep out the plague. Do you have the details on this armor?”

“Of course,” Desjani said. “Full specs. What do you need?”

“I am wondering about sterilization,” Nasr said slowly, the words spaced out as his thoughts produced them. “Not simply decontamination. If we sterilize the battle armor before it comes aboard, if we can apply sufficient energy to the outside of the armor without harming those inside . . .”

“Outside the ship?” Geary asked. “What do we have that could do that?”

“Hell lances!” Desjani said. “Scale down the energy. We can calculate exactly how much we need and blast every square millimeter of the battle armor!”

“I need to do some research,” the doctor cautioned.

Desjani had already walked quickly to the nearest comm panel. “Gunnery Sergeant Orvis! I need you on the double in the Admiral’s stateroom. Bring every spec you’ve got on your battle armor.” She tapped another address. “Senior Chief Tarrani. Admiral’s stateroom, on the double. We need to talk hell lances from a surgical perspective.”


She paused after that and looked at Geary. “Should I call Master Chief Gioninni? Are we going to try to make a deal with these guys or just go in shooting?”

Rione frowned and also addressed Geary. “Any diplomatic matters should be handled in proper channels.”

“This isn’t a diplomatic matter,” he replied in as diplomatic a way as he could manage. “This would be making a deal with criminals.”

“Making deals with criminals is a major part of most diplomacy. Didn’t you know that? Do you believe that this Master Chief Gioninni is somehow expert at dealing with criminals?”

Geary paused, then spoke with great care, aware that Desjani was desperately trying to avoid laughing. He felt the same way, in part because of the giddiness brought on by the realization that they might, just might, be able to develop a viable rescue from what had appeared to be a hopeless situation. “Master Chief Gioninni is . . . very familiar with . . . extralegal means of . . . conducting business.”

“I see,” Rione said in a frosty voice. “Whatever he does, whatever he says, could produce extremely serious consequences for the Alliance and for your missing lieutenants. You had best keep that in mind.”

“Perhaps,” Desjani said in a slightly strangled voice brought on by her attempts not to laugh, “Master Chief Gioninni could work with our . . . diplomatic representatives.”

“That’s a good idea,” Geary hastily agreed. “Tell him to contact Envoy Rione and coordinate communications with the occupants of that stealth craft. We want to know how die-hard they are, or whether they can be convinced to give up Lieutenants Castries and Yuon without a fight.”

“I’ll see what can be done,” Rione said. “You do realize, Admiral, that the occupants of that craft have signed their own death sentences. They have nothing to lose. Any deal is going to involve lying to them about being able to save their lives.”

Nobody answered that immediately. Eventually, Geary shook his head. “We didn’t put them in that position. They did it to themselves. If I have to lie to save Lieutenants Castries and Yuon from the stupidity and criminal acts of those people, then I am willing to do so.”

“Don’t bother yourself, Admiral.” Rione smiled sardonically. “I can lie for both of us. That’s also a big part of diplomacy. It’s what I do for a living, remember?”

? ? ?

THE next hour involved considerable references to specifications of armor and weapons, debates about tolerances and backups, calling up medical references on the ability of bacteria to survive the most extreme conditions, and what little had ever been revealed about the bioengineered plague that had escaped a lab complex on Europa and wiped out every human on that moon with a speed and efficiency that had terrified the rest of humanity.

In one corner of the stateroom, Victoria Rione and Master Chief Gioninni stood listening to the others and talking quietly to each other. After initial coldness on Rione’s part, they seemed to be getting along famously.

Finally, Dr. Nasr looked at Geary and nodded. “Yes, Admiral. We can subject the outside of a suit of battle armor to sufficient heat and other forces to ensure that nothing survives.”

“Excuse me, Doc,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis said, “but we should clarify that when you say nothing survives, you aren’t including the Marine inside the suit.”

Looking startled, Nasr waved his hands. “No. No. Of course not. The armor will protect the occupant. It will be ruined, though. External sensors burned out, joints fused, external coatings badly damaged. The occupants will be fine, but they will have to be cut out of the armor once we are done.”

Orvis scratched his head, grimacing. “By fine we mean uninjured. Mostly uninjured. Nobody’s going to be comfortable, though. It’s going to get pretty damned warm inside that armor until it’s pried open. But the closed-circuit backup life support inside the suits will keep oxygen going for the amount of time we need to worry about.”

“Your Marines can definitely handle the discomfort though?” Rione asked.

It was Gunnery Sergeant Orvis’s turn to look surprised. “Oh, sure. We’re Marines. Too much heat and discomfort and getting shot at and beat up is just run-of-the-mill for us. It’s when we’re really comfortable that we get thrown off by how unusual it all is.”

Rione paused, looking around with a bleak expression. “None of you have mentioned this yet, but what about the two officers? They will not be inside armor. They will have been exposed. A single bacterium would be enough, I heard. How do we deal with that?”

Dr. Nasr grimaced. “What we can do is bring extra armor and seal the officers inside. With any luck, if the fools on that ship have not gone outside or otherwise exposed themselves too much, there will be no contamination inside except anything our Marines might bring despite their own efforts to minimize the risk. But we must face such a possibility of contamination, so even after their armor is sterilized, the two officers will have to be placed in total medical isolation long enough to be certain that they have not been infected. It is the best we can do, and it will ensure that even if the officers are . . . as good as dead . . . the infection will not spread.”

“I understand the need for solutions that are only the least awful compared to the possible alternatives,” Rione said. “Thank you. That option offers our best chance and does not compromise our safety measures.”

“My people will be careful to get those officers into the spare armor as fast and clean as they can,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis assured Rione.

“After that, you have to get everyone back up here,” Geary said to Orvis. “Are you certain that you won’t need one of the shuttles to land you on the surface and pick you up again?”

“We’ll need one on the drop, Admiral, from high up, but not on the pickup. If we used a shuttle then, we’d be using it up. There’s no way to fry the inside and outside of a bird the way the doc is talking about and have anything worth keeping.” Orvis tapped his pad, and images appeared above it. “Europa’s not a big moon at all. Not much gravity to worry about. A little over a tenth of a standard gravity. We’ll need the shuttle on the drop to bring us down as low as the quarantine allows, then we’ll jump and brake our landing with strap-on thrusters.”

Tiny animated Marines in battle armor jumped from a tiny shuttle, falling down toward an image of Europa’s surface.

“After we do the job,” Orvis continued, “we get off by jumping and using what’s left in the strap-on thrusters to kick us into orbit. The power assist in the armor combined with the thrusters should do the job.”

“You can literally jump into orbit around Europa?” Rione asked skeptically.

“With the help of the extra thrusters, yes, ma’am. My Marines and I will have to jump as hard as the armor allows,” Orvis conceded. “But we’ll be highly motivated. About all you could do to motivate us more would be to dangle some beer out of an air lock. That’ll give us something to aim for.”

“Leaving out the motivational effects of the beer,” Geary said, “what’s your margin of error on reaching orbit?”

“Ten percent safety margin, Admiral,” Orvis admitted.

“Not great, but big enough. Can the ice support being used as a jump-off platform?”


This time it was Desjani who nodded. “That’s not a problem. Dauntless’s sensors have studied the surface. The stealth craft landed in an area where the ice is very thick and very hard. It might as well be solid rock as far as we’re concerned.”

Dr. Nasr tapped his own data pad. “The weapons on this warship can be recalibrated to an output that is sufficient to sterilize the outer armor but not deadly to the men and women inside it. We will be destroying the outer layer of the armor to ensure that nothing can get inside the ship.”

Senior Chief Tarrini smiled. “The crew will get a kick out of shooting at Marines floating in space.”

“I’d rather you hadn’t brought that up,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis observed. “We’ve got exactly three spare suits of battle armor, but one of those is down hard because we had to pull some parts to keep another suit going. All we need is two, though. Once we get into the craft, the lieutenants can get into the armor, then we all leave.”

Dr. Nasr sighed. “Can you send fewer Marines and try to rescue some of the others on the craft?” he asked.

Geary looked at the others, but they all looked back at him. One more unpleasant benefit of being in charge. I have to answer that. “Doctor, we have no idea how many people are on that craft. From the size of the craft, it could be as few as six or as many as thirty. If it’s thirty, even if I send all forty Marines aboard Dauntless, the odds will not be very good for an assault.”

“But if it is six?” Nasr asked.

“You understand, Doctor, that what Envoy Rione said earlier is all too accurate. Even if we get some of those people off Europa, the locals will very likely insist on executing them.”

Nasr nodded, his eyes on the deck.

“But I will see what can be done,” Geary promised. “Envoy Rione, Master Chief Gioninni, when you talk to the people on that craft, see if you can find out how many of them there are as well as what kind of deal might be possible.” If it served no other purpose, knowing how many criminals were on the craft would be very useful information for the Marines to have.

“Speaking of the locals,” Desjani continued, “how do we deal with them? From the looks of Commander Nkosi and Lieutenant Cole, those two, at least, won’t let our Marines just drop onto Europa, jump off, then sail away on Dauntless.”

“Can we keep them off?” Rione asked Geary. “Prevent the locals from interfering with our operation?”

He could see the answer in Desjani’s eyes. “No,” Geary said. “Not unless we shoot them full of holes.”

“Which I would prefer not to do in this case,” Desjani added.

Senior Chief Tarrini mumbled something that sounded like “that’s a first,” then looked around as if trying to see who had spoken.

“I don’t know how to handle the locals,” Geary said. “Fortunately, we have four politicians aboard.”

“Fortunately, we have four politicians aboard?” Desjani repeated. “That’s one sentence I never expected to hear.”

“I’m going to have a meeting with them. You, too, Doctor. I need to brief them on our plan, get their approval—”

Desjani made an inarticulate sound of protest.

“Get their approval,” Geary repeated, “and work out how to do this without causing an incident that will be heard all the way to Kick territory.”

“You’re asking a lot,” Rione cautioned. “But I can’t disagree. We need governmental approval to do this.”

Orvis looked to both Desjani and Geary. “Should I prep my people or wait for more word?”

Geary nodded. “Begin your preparations. You know what the mission will entail. We’ll notify you when we get a start time.”

Orvis stood and saluted. Many fleet salutes were still fairly sloppy since the practice had fallen out of use during the last decades of the war before being reintroduced by Geary. But the Marines had stubbornly clung to the practice all along, so Orvis’s salute was a model of crispness. “I will require specific guidance on the hostage-takers, Admiral. Though from what I understand, maybe it would be a mercy to kill them all during the hostage-rescue operation.”

“Maybe,” Geary said in a low voice, not looking toward Dr. Nasr. “But for now your orders are to do what you need to do to rescue our people. If any hostage-takers get in your way, take any necessary actions to deal with them but do not kill anyone you don’t have to. If those orders change, I will let you know.”

“Understood, Admiral.”

“Do you anticipate any problems getting all of your Marines to volunteer for the mission, Sergeant?” Dr. Nasr asked.

Orvis smiled. “When I brief my Marines on the task, I’ll let them all know that they volunteered. Saves a lot of time that way.”

After Orvis, Senior Chief Tarrini, and Master Chief Gioninni left, Dr. Nasr turned a troubled look on Geary. “There is still a risk to those two officers, you know, even if we get them off Europa safely. It will only take one plague bacterium clinging to the outside of someone’s armor, then being transferred to them as they are put into the empty armor.”

“What can we do if they get infected before they get inside the armor?” Desjani asked.

“Nothing. I cannot even risk treating them except by remote means. If they have been infected, they may die before we finish decontaminating the outside of their armor for them and the Marines. We will have to treat them as possibly contaminated. Once we bring them aboard, they will have to be locked into extreme medical isolation. We have a single compartment that allows that. It will be crowded with two in there, but there is no choice.”

“There’s no cure?” Desjani asked. “No treatment?”

“To develop a cure, someone would need a sample of the disease,” Nasr explained. “Every existing sample has been confined to Europa. I will see if treatment simulations were run based on remote data, but I will be surprised if any are available.”

“The locals might have them,” Geary said. “They’ve been living with Europa for centuries. Surely they’ve thought about what to do if that horror ever escaped.”

“Perhaps.” The doctor shrugged. “But sometimes a taboo is too great to even bear looking at. Then, too, I remember a colleague of mine once arguing that research into cures was counterproductive, since it merely encouraged the behaviors that led to the ills. I did not agree, but such an attitude might rule here. Any suggestion that a cure might be found might produce pressure to relax the quarantine of Europa, and I understand why that could not be encouraged.”

After the doctor and Rione had left, Desjani looked angrily at Geary. “Admiral—”

He held out a warning hand. “You know that I can’t approve this on my own.”

She glared stubbornly back at him. “No, I don’t.”

“This is too big an issue, and we have representatives of the government aboard.”

“No.”

“I have to ask them, Tanya.”

“No!”

“Do you want to be present at the meeting as well?”

“No.” Her glare intensified as Desjani clenched a fist and pounded it lightly on the table. “But I will attend, anyway, Admiral, in an attempt to ensure that two of my officers are not doomed to die on Europa by the dithering and politicking of our esteemed Alliance senators.”