The Lost Fleet: Beyond the Frontier Steadfast

FOUR




THREE senators of the Alliance, one envoy of the Alliance, an admiral and a captain of the Alliance fleet, and a doctor of the Alliance military medical corps sat around a small table inside the secure conference room aboard the battle cruiser Dauntless. Above the table floated an image of Europa and all the ships and other craft currently orbiting Jupiter near that moon.

Geary had finished describing the planned operation and was waiting for the reaction from the senators.

Senator Suva looked like she had a migraine headache. “Europa. Why did it have to be that place out of everywhere in this star system?”

“But it is Europa,” Senator Sakai said. “Two of our people are there. The Admiral says we can do something. Do we take that action?”

“If we don’t,” Senator Costa said, “those two officers of the Alliance fleet die.”

“How many officers have died in the last century? In the last year?” Sakai asked, his tone mild.

“That’s not the point, and you know it! It’s one thing to send members of our military on missions where they might die or even likely will die. It’s another thing entirely to sit back and let two of our people die when we could do something to prevent it.” Costa looked around the table, her gaze challenging. “That would make the Alliance look weak. Right now, the locals respect us. They’ve seen what this battle cruiser can do. We don’t want them deciding that we lack the resolve to protect our own people and interests.”

“But the two officers might already be dead,” Suva protested. “Or . . . infected.”

Everyone looked at Dr. Nasr, who shook his head. “If they were infected, they are dead, but the craft they are in must be making every effort to remain sealed against the risk.”

“And the only thing stopping us is fear of stepping on the toes of the locals?” Costa demanded. “Then let’s do it. We land the Marines, we get our people back, and by the time the locals know what’s happened, we’re at the hypernet gate and on our way home.”

“Keeping it secret may be impossible,” Sakai warned.

“But we must,” Suva insisted. “The consequences would be immense if it is learned that we put people on Europa and recovered them.”

“We only have to hide it until we’re clear of here, then no one can prove anything,” Costa declared. “They’ll all know what we did, but they won’t be able to prove it.”

“The locals will see us conducting the operation. We don’t have stealth equipment—” Geary began.

“Then how can we do this?” Sakai asked.

Dr. Nasr spoke with a sudden burst of pent-up emotion. “Why is this a question? The answer is simple. We cannot hide this. We should not try to hide it. Tell everyone. Tell them what we plan to do, how we plan to do it, what precautions we are taking, and let them watch as we do it all. Let them examine our equipment. Nothing else will convince them to trust us or to believe that our actions will not harm them. Why do we seek to hide it, to keep our plans secret? We are not the Syndics. We are not the enigmas. Why do we try to keep so much hidden from those who have every right to know it?”

Senator Costa’s expression had hardened as Nasr spoke. Senator Suva looked away. Senator Sakai seemed to be studying the far bulkhead, his face as impassive as usual. Rione, oddly, looked tired. But no one spoke for several seconds after the doctor finished.

Victoria Rione finally broke the silence. “You ask some very good questions, Doctor.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Costa retorted. “Security demands secrecy. We keep things like this under wraps so we can protect the Alliance.”

Costa’s criticism instantly decided Suva, who gave Costa a scornful gaze. “We keep too many secrets! Who or what are we really protecting?”

Senator Sakai made a sharp gesture with one hand, forestalling Costa’s counterattack. “There are secrets that are necessary, and there are those that serve no purpose. I would agree that secrecy has become too much a habit for us. My proof for this? None of us except this doctor thought of simply telling the truth to the people of Sol Star System. All we thought of was how to hide our actions. Do we still judge the need for secrecy in things? Or do we assume the need?”

“Do you agree with the doctor?” Geary asked Sakai.

“I do. His words have a wisdom we have forgotten. Truth does not fear the light.”

“The First Truth,” Rione said softly. “Yes. We have forgotten that.”

“I’ve forgotten nothing,” Costa insisted. “The only way to protect truth is to—”

“Lie?” Suva asked bitingly. “That is why we have so little credibility with the citizens of the Alliance! We don’t tell anyone the truth anymore. We classify everything, in order, we say, to protect those citizens.”

Costa looked fiercely back at her. “There are some secrets I am certain you would not want disclosed. Shall we spill them all?”

“That is a false argument,” Rione said. “It is not a matter of all or nothing. No one here would argue with the need to keep some secrets. But it has become too easy to think only in terms of hiding information and not consider the rationale for whether it should be secret at all.”

“So says the woman voted out of office by the Callas Republic,” Costa said with a sneer, “and who now depends on the charity of the Alliance for home and employment.”

Rione smiled sweetly back at her. “I freely admit to having told the truth to my people and to having been punished for that. Since we both agree that I have some experience with telling the truth, as well as plenty of experience with the lies that politicians routinely tell, that would give me grounds for having an expert opinion on the matter.”

“Excuse me,” Geary said, before the argument could become even more heated. “Everyone seems to agree that we need to act and that the plan can work. I have the impression that both Senator Suva and Senator Sakai support Dr. Nasr’s suggestion that we approach the locals openly about what we intend doing and how we intend doing it, and allow them as much access as possible to verify that we are doing what we say. Is that correct?”

Sakai nodded. “It is.”

Suva hesitated, stole a glance at Costa’s furious expression, then nodded as well. “I agree.”

“Then,” Rione said smoothly, “we have a majority of the governmental representatives present in favor of proceeding and in favor of openness. I need not exercise Senator Navarro’s proxy though I would have voted in favor as well.”

“Whoever handles this,” Costa warned, “is going to find that it bites them when we return to Alliance space.”

Rione spread her hands. “I was feeling bored, anyway. Besides, it wouldn’t feel like a proper return to the Alliance without my being accused of some serious misdeed.”

With the critical decisions made, the three senators left, followed by Desjani and Dr. Nasr. Tanya gave Geary a warning look as she left, skating her eyes toward Rione to make it clear who the warning was about.

Once they were alone, Rione slumped down, rubbing her eyes with one hand. “We need to start with the commander of the quarantine force.”

“Commander Nkosi,” Geary said. “He is the key. Have you and Master Chief Gioninni had any luck talking to the people on the stealth craft?”


“No. They won’t answer. It appears they intend sitting silently down there until we give up and leave.” Rione lowered her hand and raised an eyebrow at Geary. “I have to confess that I did not think your captain would be smart enough to tolerate having someone of Mr. Gioninni’s talents among her crew.”

“She knows how valuable those talents can be,” Geary said. “But she does watch him closely.”

“Also a smart thing to do.” Rione sat up straighter, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then reached for the comm controls. “Let’s see whether or not we can make this happen.”

Commander Nkosi did not waste time with preliminaries. “Admiral, I deeply regret the situation in which we find ourselves. Permit me to express official condolences on the fate of your officers.”

Dauntless was so close to the ships enforcing the quarantine that there was no noticeable time delay in the conversation. “Those condolences may be premature,” Geary said.

“Sadly, they are not.”

“Allow me to tell you what we’re contemplating doing. When I’m done, we can discuss whether or not those officers are effectively already dead.” Geary went through the plan step by step, emphasizing the sterilization procedures to be used.

Nkosi listened patiently, his expression betraying no emotion. But when Geary had finished, the quarantine commander shook his head. “I can’t agree to this.”

“Commander—”

“My orders do not leave me any discretion in the matter, Admiral. If anyone or anything attempts to leave the surface of Europa, it must be destroyed. Nothing can be allowed to leave that moon. If your Marines attempt this operation, I will be duty-bound to make every possible effort to destroy them before they reach orbit.”

Rione gestured toward where Europa lay. “Commander, can you see that stealth craft?”

“The one we are discussing? Yes. We have a good position on it. It has not moved since landing.”

“Why aren’t you destroying it now? Why wait until it tries to lift?”

Geary barely avoided giving her a sharp look. From the way Rione had asked the question, he had a very strong suspicion that she already knew the answer.

Nkosi made a face, then spoke with obvious reluctance. “Our orders are explicit. We cannot fire upon anything on the surface of Europa. The moon has not much more than ten percent of Earth’s gravity. Any explosion of sufficient strength could cause . . . things . . . to be blown into space.”

“Contaminated things,” Rione said. “I understand. Now, you have a good fix on that ship when it is on the surface. How well can you track it once it lifts?”

Commander Nkosi glared at her. “Well enough.”

“Commander,” she said in a soft voice, “I have dealt with politicians for a long time. I’ve been a politician. I know when someone isn’t being entirely candid. We already know the full capabilities of the tracking equipment in this star system. Once that craft lifts from the surface of Europa, your odds of being able to track and engage it are very small.”

Nkosi looked away for a long moment, then back at her, his gaze now defiant. “I am not ashamed of my inability to lie well. You are correct.”

“Then you cannot successfully engage the craft once it has lifted from the surface of Europa,” Rione said, as if stating something already agreed upon, “and you are not allowed to engage it while it is on the surface. How do you prevent that ship from leaving Europa and going wherever it wants?”

“You can track it,” Nkosi insisted. “You have shown us that.”

“We can’t stay here forever, waiting for that craft to lift,” Rione replied, her tone hardening. “All they have to do is sit on the surface until we leave. A week. A month. We aren’t even authorized to stay that much longer. And once we are gone, they go wherever they want, and you will not be able to stop them. The quarantine will be broken.”

Nkosi paused. “If they try that, no one will grant them docking. Their own friends will destroy them.”

“Leaving the debris to drift somewhere in space? Or perhaps they will land in a hidden location, perhaps a location on Earth, or Mars. What may happen then, Commander?”

Nkosi looked down, then back at her, his gaze appraising. “But you propose to prevent anything from leaving Europa by sending many Marines down to Europa and bringing them back?”

“You heard our proposal. We will send down Marines in battle armor, which is completely sealed against any intrusion. We will recover our two officers inside the ship, put them in spare battle armor, then our Marines and the two officers will jump off Europa, using assist propulsion units. Once they’re off the surface, we will fire upon each set of battle armor in turn, covering every square millimeter with sufficient energy to blast anything on the outside of the armor, as well the outer layer of the armor, into component atoms. You and any other personnel you desire, including your medical personnel, can personally observe it all from our own ship. You can personally examine the equipment we will use before the operation begins.”

“And what of the stealth craft?”

“Our Marines will ensure its systems are damaged so badly it will never lift from the surface.”

Nkosi grimaced. “The moment the criminals on that ship got within fifty kilometers of the surface of Europa, they had no chance. But I am not a cruel man. I take no pleasure in that. You will not try to rescue anyone but your own officers?”

“We can’t,” Geary said. “We only have two spare suits of battle armor.”

“You could send fewer Marines.”

“No. Unless you can tell me how many criminals are on that stealth craft, I can’t run the risk of making the odds against my people worse. If someone is going to die down there,” Geary finished, “it’s not going to be any of my Marines.”

Nkosi looked down at his hands where they rested on the desk before him. “I can respect your logic. But there is no if. Those on the stealth craft will die. Your officers should die as well, not because I wish it, but because my orders allow no exceptions. I will ask permission to allow you to do this.”

“How long do you think that would take?” Geary demanded, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“Years,” Nkosi admitted. “To get an answer, that is. Every government in Sol Star System would have a vote, and it would have to be unanimous.”

“Then the answer would be no,” Rione said.

“Only if we are lucky enough to still be alive,” the commander replied. “I cannot deny the truth of what you say. The only way to keep that craft from escaping is to allow you to do this. Otherwise, everyone in this star system may die while the debate on what to do goes on, and the vote never takes place because everything orbiting Sol will be like Europa. I must allow this, but you must know the risk that I personally run by agreeing to allow it.”

“Court-martial?” Geary asked.

“A very short one,” Nkosi said. “The penalty would surely be that proscribed for anyone who fails in their duty to maintain the quarantine.” He pointed downward. “A one-way trip to the surface of Europa.”

Geary felt his next words catch in his throat. “I cannot ask—” he finally began.

“Wait, Admiral.” Nkosi gestured again, this time outward. “Do you know what the duty of the quarantine force would be if the plague escaped Europa and spread among other locations in this star system?”


“I know that the original quarantine ships had to destroy refugee ships trying to flee Europa,” Geary said.

“Yes. We would do that again, everywhere the plague spread. And our quarantine ships would take up positions at the jump points from Sol and at the hypernet gate your Alliance constructed, and we would destroy every craft that came toward those places trying to flee for safety. When the last refugee was dead, the last fleeing ship destroyed, all of this star system lifeless, our final duty would be to hurl our ships into the star Sol.” Nkosi shook his head again, his eyes haunted by visions of that possible future. “Do you not think I would go to my own death to prevent that?”

“Is there any way to prevent them from punishing you?” Rione asked.

“Officially? No.”

“You could come with us,” Geary said. “Back to the Alliance.”

Nkosi smiled. “I believe in facing the consequences of my actions, Admiral. I am old-fashioned in that way.”

“I’m pretty old-fashioned myself. But you don’t deserve to die.”

“You don’t have to,” Rione announced, looking up from her data pad. “What is the single overriding imperative in your orders, Commander?”

He frowned at her. “We have discussed that. Prevent any contamination from leaving Europa.”

“By any means necessary,” Rione finished.

“How did you know what my orders say?”

“That’s not important. The important thing is that our proposed operation is the only means available to you to . . .”

Nkosi’s frown changed to a look of surprise. “To prevent contamination from leaving Europa. By the letter of my orders, I must allow you to proceed.”

“That will make a good defense for you?” Geary asked.

“Good? No. Perfect. This is Sol Star System. Our people worship written procedures, rules, and regulations like others worship the divine. I cannot be prosecuted for following the letter of my orders. And so I shall not die.”

Geary felt himself smiling for the first time in at least the last several hours. “Are the other ships around here under similar orders? What will they do?”

“They will ask for guidance from their supervisors,” Nkosi said with a shrug. “It is not normally their responsibility to enforce the quarantine though they are obligated to assist if the quarantine force calls for aid. If I do not do that . . . the only one who might act is Cole on the Shadow. He does not shirk from what duty requires.”

“Will we have to stop him?” Geary asked.

“I will speak to him. Cole is a hard-ass, but he is not a fool. He will see as well as I that we have no choice but to hope your plan succeeds.” Nkosi caught Geary’s eyes with his own. “I will be one of those aboard your ship to personally observe the operation.”

“Certainly. We need you and any other personnel you want along over here as soon as possible, so we can make this happen.”

“I will prepare a shuttle. First, let me call Lieutenant Cole and ensure that he acts with uncharacteristic caution and hesitation in this matter.”

? ? ?

COMMANDER Nkosi was accompanied by two of his senior enlisted, whom he identified as experts in targeting and weapons systems, as well as by his senior medical officer, Dr. Palden. Nkosi stayed with Geary while Senior Chief Tarrini took the two senior enlisted in hand. Dr. Palden, a middle-aged woman with keen eyes, was already hurling questions at Dr. Nasr as they began walking toward sick bay.

“She is a good doctor,” Commander Nkosi said. “Very dedicated. She is very keen on seeing your medical equipment.”

“I want you to see our Marines before they depart,” Geary said. He led Nkosi to the shuttle dock, where all forty Marines waited in ranks. In their battle armor, they looked more like ogres than humans, an immensely intimidating sight even to those used to it.

If Nkosi felt unsettled, he didn’t betray it in any way as he closely looked over the battle armor and studied the specifications that Geary offered. “Extremely impressive,” he finally said. “Our armor would be no match for these, but then we have been at peace for many years.”

Next to the Marines, two extra suits of battle armor lay on the deck. Nkosi looked them over, then bowed his head, closed his eyes, and muttered something too low for Geary to hear. “This is the critical element,” he said to Geary after raising his head. “Do your Marines understand that they must do everything they can to avoid contaminating your officers before they are sealed into this armor?”

“Yes, sir,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis replied before Geary could. “Admiral, have our orders regarding the hostage-takers changed?”

“No,” Geary replied. “Take them out if you have to but only if you have to. If you can get in and out of there without killing any, that will be fine. Just make sure that craft’s propulsion and maneuvering systems are too badly damaged for it to lift again.”

Orvis saluted, his armored hand rising to the brow of the heavy helmet concealing his entire head. “Understand, sir. Break the ship, but not the crew, unless they make us do it the hard way.”

“Satisfied?” Geary asked Nkosi.

“For my part, yes. I must speak with Dr. Palden, though.”

Geary called sick bay. Dr. Nasr normally maintained an outward appearance of calm, but from the looks of him now, Dr. Palden had seriously rubbed him the wrong way. In response to Commander Nkosi’s questions, Palden grudgingly conceded that the available equipment and planned procedures should be “adequate.”

Nkosi checked with his senior specialists, who displayed much more enthusiasm. “This is really hot gear,” one told the commander. “They can do what they say.”

“I am satisfied,” Commander Nkosi said.

“Board the shuttles and prepare to launch,” Geary told Orvis.

? ? ?

HE led Commander Nkosi to the bridge, where Tanya Desjani was seated. “Begin the operation whenever you are ready, Captain,” Geary told her.

“Thank you, Admiral.” Desjani tapped her comm controls. “Commence hostage-recovery operation. Launch both shuttles. All personnel remain at full alert.”

As he sat down in his own seat next to Desjani’s, Geary called Envoy Charban, who had been holed up in his stateroom for the last two days maintaining constant contact with the Dancer ships. “How are you doing, General?”

Charban twitched his mouth before answering. “I feel like hell, Admiral. How do I look?”

“Like you feel,” Geary admitted. From his appearance, Charban had already used more than one stim med patch to keep himself alert and awake. “Will the Dancers stay clear of Europa while we do this?”

“Let’s do it, see what they do, then we’ll both know.” Charban ran one hand through his hair. “I think I’ve gotten across that they can’t go to Europa, and they are staying well away. I’m pretty certain that they also understand why they can’t go to Europa.”

“You told them?” Geary wasn’t certain of his feelings about that. If it is necessary to keep them from going to Europa, then they had to be told. But I feel . . . ashamed to have to tell an alien species what my species did to that moon. Is that a reason to avoid being truthful, though? “I guess this is one of those secrets that shouldn’t really be secret.”


“Excuse me?”

“I’ll fill you in later. We’re launching the shuttles now and should start the drop in about twenty minutes. If everything goes according to the timeline, we’ll have the Marines back up here and getting their armor sterilized an hour and a half after that. Please stay on with the Dancers the whole time and do everything you can to keep them from diving into the middle of things.”

“Yes, sir.” Charban leaned back and made a deliberately casual salute. “Do you know what I want to know most right now? I want to know what they think of it. What they think of us. The Dancers, that is. They already knew we warred and we bombarded planets and inflicted awful atrocities on other humans, but did they know we were fools enough to create the thing that still haunts Europa? Now that they do know, will it change how they see us, will it alter their perception of us as part of some pattern they haven’t been able or willing to get across to us?”

“Make sure the Dancers know that we’re going down to Europa to save two of our people,” Geary said.

“Certainly.” Charban stared into the distance, his eyes unfocused. “We’ll casually kill thousands, or tens of thousands, or millions, with our actions or inactions, but we’ll then turn around and risk our own lives to save a few others. How can the Dancers ever understand us? I don’t understand us. How can we ever hope to understand them?”

As the virtual window containing Charban’s image vanished, Geary realized once again that there were no clear answers to Charban’s questions.

“Both shuttles have launched, Captain,” the operations watch reported. “They are descending toward the drop point.”

“Very well.” Desjani studied her display, then shook her head. “I never imagined that shuttles under my command would be deliberately getting as close to Europa as the quarantine allows.”

“Did you ever imagine that two of your officers would be on Europa?” Geary asked.

“Now that you mention it, no.”

Senator Sakai and Victoria Rione came onto the bridge, both standing in the back, out of the way, but watching the display at the observer’s seat.

Geary gestured for Rione, waiting until she was inside his seat’s privacy field before speaking. “Where are the other two?”

“Senators Suva and Costa?” Rione asked in an arch tone of voice. “They are in their own staterooms, disassociating themselves from this event.”

“Disassociating?”

“Yes, Admiral. If this goes wrong in any of many possible bad ways, they will be able to claim that they were not actually involved, not fully informed, not properly briefed, and not truly responsible.” Rione smiled. “Of course, if it all goes well, they will still claim credit for it.”

Geary glared at his display for a moment before replying. “So Senator Sakai’s decision to come to the bridge means he is associating himself with this operation?”

She nodded judiciously. “Better say he is owning it. His presence here, and near you, ties him to the outcome, no matter what it is.”

“I’ll have to thank him,” Geary said. “Does this mean that Sakai is backing me?”

“Only in this,” Rione cautioned. “He will judge every situation and decide each situation on its own.”

“I can’t fault him for that. I wish every senator were like him and, what was her name, Senator Unruh.”

“Unruh impressed you, did she? You’re right. But don’t forget that Unruh, and Sakai, and every other senator on the Grand Council, were convinced to create that secret fleet and give command of it to Admiral Bloch. All of their individual hopes and fears came together to do something that you and I consider insanity.”

“Didn’t that happen before?” Geary asked. “I’ve been thinking about it, and when the Grand Council approved Bloch’s plan for the strike at the Syndic home star system, didn’t the same thing take place?”

Rione considered that, then nodded. “Yes. Patterns born of desperation. And every time you avoid disaster or win a victory, many of them become more desperate. I’m talking too much. Are you as worried about this operation as I am?”

“Probably more,” Geary said.

“I’ll leave you to focus on it.” She went back to where Senator Sakai stood, but he felt her eyes still upon him.

Geary called up the virtual windows that allowed him to see the views from the armor of each Marine. After overseeing operations involving thousands of Marines, it felt odd to be able to view what was happening from the point of view of each individual Marine in this operation all at once. It reminded him of the days before the war, a century ago, when a typical training exercise might involve only a company of Marines at the most, and only a few ships. For a moment, the memories came to him vividly, of men and women he had known who had fought and died while he slept, and it took a tremendous effort of will to push away those images—and the emotions they brought with them—and bring his full attention back to the present.

Right now, all that the virtual windows revealed was the interior of the shuttles and the other Marines, but soon that would change. “Commander Nkosi, feel free to stand close enough to me to view my display. I want you to be confident that we hid nothing from you.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Nkosi looked around the bridge of the battle cruiser, one hand reaching to touch the rough edges of Geary’s fleet command seat. Geary remembered being startled himself at such rough edges on Dauntless, the marks of a ship built as quickly as possible with the expectation that it would soon be destroyed in battle. “I have never seen a purely military ship before. A true warship. It looks like what it is. An instrument of war.”

Geary was pondering a reply when an alert flashed on his display. “Here they go.”

The Marines were standing up and forming lines facing the hatches leading to each shuttle’s exit ramp. Inside the confines of the shuttles, the Marines in their battle armor moved with slow, careful grace, like elephants around stacks of eggs still in their shells. “How much damage could they do to a shuttle interior if they bumped into it or hit it by mistake?” Nkosi asked.

Desjani shrugged. “How hard do they hit and where do they hit? It’s not usually any problem. Our Marines actually take dance classes to learn how to move like that, to avoid hitting things by accident, you know.”

“I did not know.”

On the window for each Marine, Geary could see all of the data that Marine was being shown on his or her helmet display. External pressure readings were dropping rapidly as the shuttles pumped out the air in their passenger decks. As the readings hit zero, the hatches swung open, revealing the shuttle ramps leading downward a short distance before ending against the black nothingness of space. Europa was below them, unable to be seen from this angle. The great bannered spectacle of Jupiter itself was almost directly above and also couldn’t be seen.

“Go,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis commanded.

The Marines shuffled forward, heading down the ramp, until the first in line reached the end and stepped off with a small leap to get clear. The next followed two seconds later, then the next, then the next, until every Marine was dropping through the very thin wisps of Europa’s atmosphere. Dropping toward the most fearsome place in human-inhabited space.


Some of the Marines looked down as they fell kilometer after kilometer, tipping themselves forward until snarls from Orvis or one of the other Marine sergeants or corporals brought them straight again. On their displays, a small fragment of a sphere marked the surface they were plummeting toward, along with a number helpfully counting down the rapidly diminishing distance to that surface.

The images jerked as the assist jets began kicking in on the Marines, the thrust still gentle, just enough to control the descent. Even though the Marines were all looking straight ahead as they dropped feetfirst, more and more of the edge of Europa’s horizon was appearing within their vision. “How can something so pretty feel so ugly?” one Marine whispered across the comm circuit linking them together.

“Yeah,” another answered. “Like that lance corporal you used to date. What was her name again?”

A chorus of low laughter was cut short by Gunnery Sergeant Orvis. “Stow it! Eyes and heads on the mission!”

“They are nervous,” Commander Nkosi commented. “I recognize that sort of talk. It is comforting to realize you people from the stars are not all that different from us.”

“That’s comforting?” Geary asked.

“Perhaps it should not be,” Nkosi admitted.

Geary had focused his display on the drop zone, so by looking to one side away from the views from the Marine armor, he could see a segment of Europa’s surface, the stealth craft resting on it, and the gently curving lines marking the projected paths of the falling Marines.

“Should we deploy chaff?” Corporal Maya asked Orvis, using the generic term for materials and devices that confused detection and aiming.

“Negative. If they haven’t spotted us, we don’t want to attract their attention, and if they have seen us, we don’t want to advertise that we’re coming in on a combat footing.”

“How could they not see us, Gunny?” a private asked.

“If they’re not looking,” Orvis explained. “Did you apes listen to the predrop brief? The last thing those guys on the surface expect is for us to drop in, so even though we don’t have stealth gear, we might still achieve surprise.”

“What if we don’t?”

“Then I’ll tell the Admiral you were upset about getting shot at and sing you a lullaby to help you sleep when we get back to the ship! Everybody shut up and prep for landing! Weapons tight!”

Geary had kept one eye on the grounded stealth craft, watching for signs that those inside it had spotted the Marines and were preparing to fire. But as the Marines dropped the final kilometer to the surface, their assist jets braking them hard at the last possible moment, no reaction could be seen on the craft.

Watching the stress readings that jumped into red on the helmet display of every Marine, Geary winced in sympathy at the forces they were enduring as the jets labored at full thrust to slow their fall.

“If something goes wrong, will they break through the ice?” Senator Sakai asked.

“No, sir,” Geary said. “The ice sheets are too thick and too hard. If the jets on any of the Marines fail, they will crater on the surface. It will crack the surrounding ice, but not enough to shatter or hole it.” It all sounded so clinical when describing it, as if such a crater would not be the grave marker of a Marine who could not possibly survive such an impact. But he thought they were already past that point, the Marines’ falls slowed enough that they could survive the impact if their jets failed now.

Orvis hit the ice hard enough to create some fine cracks under his armored boots. The gunnery sergeant tottered on his feet, facing the stealth craft, his weapon aimed and ready. He slid out his right foot to maintain his balance instead of following the normal practice of bending into a roll that would have ended up with him lying prone on the ice in a less exposed position. “Everybody remember to stay on your feet and minimize contact with the surface!”

All around him, the rest of the platoon landed in a staggered series of similar wobbly stances. None fell even though two had to take a few rushed steps to keep from losing their balance. Europa’s extremely thin atmosphere could not generate any winds or resistance capable of pushing the Marines off their trajectories, so they had landed in almost perfect alignment, forming two bent lines around the sides of the craft.

Geary could see dozens of different views of the scene, each from one of the Marines. On the side with the ridge, the Marines were slightly higher and had a marginally different view of the stealth craft, but, otherwise, the views were similar. The surface ice of Europa here was darkened by minerals to a light khaki color and scored by low ridges and lines. The stealth craft had been brought to rest near a low, curving ridge that offered as much cover as could be found anywhere on the surface. It was small in relation to Dauntless, only perhaps three times the size of one of the battle cruiser’s shuttles. From this close, however, the craft was impossible to miss, a smooth, curving shape rising above the skyline. The sky itself was as black as space, the atmosphere being too thin to catch sunlight, but the landscape was eerily lit by the faint light of Sol and the light reflected from the huge many-banded globe of Jupiter that dominated the view above this side of Europa.

“Move out!” The last Marine had barely come to a stop when Orvis called out the command and began running toward the spacecraft, along with half of the other Marines on each side. He and the others covered about a third of the distance to the craft, then stopped, weapons aimed and ready. Behind them, the other half of the platoon dodged forward, running through the area where their comrades now stood, covering the charge.

The sensors on the Marines’ combat armor worked automatically and efficiently, scanning the spacecraft and identifying even subtle surface features. On the Marines’ helmet displays, markers sprang to life over the image of the ship, designating various kinds of sensors, a few weapons designed for space combat, and maneuvering thrusters.

“Admiral, either we’ve achieved surprise, or they’re waiting for us in there,” Orvis reported.

Geary nodded from habit even though the gesture couldn’t be seen by the Marine sergeant. “Make sure they can’t lift. We can’t afford to have them run.”

“Yes, sir. Second Squad, Fourth Squad,” Orvis called out as he dashed forward again. “Attack plan Alpha. Take out all assigned targets.”

Ten Marines on one side of the ship halted, their weapons steadying before opening fire, as did ten Marines on the other side. The spacecraft’s maneuvering thrusters were knocked out in a rapid series of shots that crippled the spacecraft’s ability to control its movement if it tried to lift. Shoulder-fired weapons sent projectiles into the craft’s single main propulsion unit at the aft end, doing enough damage to the external components to render the drive useless but not enough harm to threaten catastrophic failure of the drive components inside the hull.

Only seconds had gone by as the stealth craft was permanently grounded. The Marines who had continued running forward with Orvis were once again coming to a halt and raising their own weapons. “First Squad, Third Squad, engage assigned targets.”

Energy pulses and projectiles from the Marine rifles slammed into the few weapons visible on the hull, destroying the external portions or sealing firing ports. Sensors on the spacecraft’s outer hull were also knocked out by carefully aimed shots. “They’re grounded, helpless, and blind, Admiral,” Gunnery Sergeant Orvis reported.


“Good.” Geary looked toward Desjani, who shook her head to indicate that no communications had been received from the stealth craft. Very likely the external transmitters on the craft had just been destroyed by the Marines, so if nothing had been heard before now, the kidnappers had lost their chance to try to negotiate. Nonetheless, he felt a strange reluctance to issue the next command, a hesitation that vanished in a flare of anger at the fools on the stealth craft who had made this necessary. “Get inside and finish the job.” He could feel the weight of those words, as if they had real mass that settled on him and came to rest in his chest.

“Yes, sir. First Squad, Third Squad—”

“Gunny! There’s something under the air lock on this side!”

Orvis opened a virtual window on his helmet display that gave him a view of what Corporal Maya had spotted. That gave Geary a window showing Orvis’s view, with Maya’s view in it in miniature. He actually wasted a precious second wondering how to enlarge it before mentally slapping himself and just looking directly at his own view from Maya’s armor.

The image tightened and grew within the window as Maya magnified her view. “Got a body, Gunny,” she reported.

A body? Geary heard a sharp intake of breath from someone on the bridge, but otherwise a tense silence had fallen.

“I don’t see a suit,” Orvis noted.

“Ain’t one,” Maya said tersely. “IR shows body temp matching surface temp. Must be frozen solid. Body is flat, but arms are locked into position slightly elevated.”

“Been out here a little while, then,” Orvis commented. “Sounds like whoever it was died while trying to climb back to the hatch and fell already half-frozen. Get in close while we cover you.”

Maya flitted forward, her armor’s sensors scanning the body for any signs of booby traps. Geary almost flinched again as he saw the object closer up. A woman, wearing only lightweight coveralls, lay splayed on her back on the ice of Europa, her body already frozen as hard as the ice beneath it. Her face, distorted by death and the physical damage caused by Europa’s surface environment, was only partly visible beneath a coating of frost and icy strands of hair.

Geary stared at the image, trying to make out if the face was that of Lieutenant Castries. Had the hostage-takers decided that at least one of the Alliance officers had outlived her usefulness? Had they decided there was no sense in keeping alive another mouth to feed, and used a cruel and vicious means of disposing of her? Was Yuon’s body also lying somewhere nearby, camouflaged by death and frost?

Had the Marines arrived too late?