On the ground, no robot constructed had ever been able to match the fluidity of movement and the effectiveness of human reflexes and instincts. A robot could be tougher or move faster, but one had never matched a well-trained human as a warrior. Until now.
Clarkson had seen these things in action. The way they moved, the smoothness of their maneuvers…they were the equal at least of trained human soldiers, and maybe better. And their equipment and technology was like nothing Clarkson had ever seen. He sat on the ground, surrounded by the wreckage of those few of the enemy warriors his troops had managed to take down. The sun was fading, but it was still hot, and his parched throat burned with thirst. His grimy, sweat-soaked body ached and his head was pounding. You’ve got to get up, he thought. You have to report this.
He struggled to his feet and turned to walk back toward the trench. He had no idea where to go – he didn’t know where the battle had progressed after the enemy had pierced the defensive line. Maybe everyone was dead already…maybe each tortured step he took was in vain. But he had to try.
He stopped and looked back one last time, remembering the sight of those monsters marching across the field toward his position. A shiver took him despite the heat, and he closed his eyes and wondered – how are we going to fight these things?
“I want that alignment checked again, lieutenant.” Captain Jacobs was tense. The refractor satellite had been Captain Calloway’s idea, and it was a brilliant one. Positioned with line of sight to both Adelaide and Hornet, it was really just a large lens, angling direct laser transmissions from the planet to Jacob’s concealed ship. Hornet was still running silent, hiding on the far side of Adelaide’s moon. The satellite itself ran on very little power, and it repositioned itself with small jets of compressed air that were almost undetectable to scanners.
Jacobs knew that both Raptor and Stingray were gone, and he was dealing with a bad case of survivor’s guilt. If all three ships had fought, and he had just been luckier, he could have dealt with that…such were the fortunes of war. But Hornet had been hiding while their comrades were out there fighting and dying. It was a hard pill for an officer like Jacobs to swallow. He poured his frustrations into doing the job he was given. He was there to transmit as much information back up the chain to the high command, and he was going to see it done no matter what.
“Refraction alignment checks out, sir.” Lieutenant Mink was a little exasperated, but she was an experienced enough officer not to let it show. She’d checked the alignment three times in the last hour…and that was on top of the fact that the AI was monitoring it in real time. But she knew why the captain was being so relentless, and she understood. If the alignment was off by even a fraction of a degree, any messages from Adelaide would miss Hornet entirely.
They hadn’t received a transmission in almost a day, and everyone’s nerves were on edge. Adelaide had managed to send some data on the enemy ground forces, but nothing very detailed. The fighting had been going very badly, and no one knew how long the planet’s defenders could hold out. They had retreated from their prepared defensive lines and were getting ready to mount a final defense of the shelters. That was the last Hornet had heard from the planet.
Jacobs zipped his jumpsuit all the way up, but he still shivered. It was cold on Hornet’s bridge. He’d ordered the ship’s reactor shut down entirely, and the life support and other vital functions were running at minimum settings using battery power. He was going to do everything possible to keep Hornet undetected.
“Sir!” Lieutenant Mink turned toward the captain. Her voice was high pitched, excited. “We’re getting a transmission from Adelaide!”
“Very well, lieutenant.” Jacobs felt the same excitement, but he didn’t show it. His voice was calm and steady. “Relay to my screen, and retransmit immediately to Commnet.”
“Yes, sir.” Mink regained her composure. “On your screen now, captain.” A brief pause, then: “Transmission to Commnet complete, sir.”
Jacobs looked down at the screen, reading the reports. The news was grim. Adelaide’s militia had been shattered. There were no reliable casualty reports, but best estimates indicated loss rates in excess of 80%. The survivors had fallen back to the shelters with the enemy in pursuit.
Jacobs looked up from the screen for a moment. It was the same story they’d been hearing since all of this began, but this time on the ground. An overwhelmingly powerful enemy with weapons and equipment beyond anything the Alliance possessed. Any hope that the enemy’s advantage would be restricted to space combat had been dashed.
He glanced back at the reports. There was more data on the enemy ground forces. Finally, some good news, he thought. A militia sergeant had managed to escape from behind enemy lines, and be brought back a report and some video on the attackers. Jacobs read on, and he soon decided the news wasn’t so good after all. My God, he thought, the high command has to have this information.
“Lieutenant Mink, retransmit this report to Commnet.” He was still staring at his screen as he spoke. “I want redundant drones sent from the station.” He paused and took a deep breath. “This information must reach Admiral Garret no matter what.”
“Yes, sir. Transmitting again now.”
Jacobs looked up again from the report on his screen and wondered about this sergeant. His information didn’t say if he’d made it back or just gotten off a communication. He didn’t know if the man was dead or alive, but he was pretty sure this new war had its first genuine hero.
Chapter 11
Cain stood on Cambrai’s observation deck, staring out at Farpoint. From this distance, the planet was a magnificent blue and white disk floating in the blackness. He was thinking quietly and, for once, not about battle or tactics. How many times have I looked out at something like this without giving it a second thought? It was easy to overlook the staggering beauty of space, especially when you were rushing from one desperate battle to another. One day, he thought sadly, maybe I’ll have time to see – to really see – some of the wonders of this universe. “Someday,” he muttered to himself. “But not today.”
Erik was troubled. It had been bothering him more noticeably lately, but when he’d really started to think about it he realized it had been there for a long time. A growing weariness, a disillusionment. He had always been a fighter, and he’d be one until that bullet with his name on it finally found its mark. But it was different now. Never a teary-eyed optimist, he’d still managed to believe that when he climbed into his armor and hit dirt for yet another battle he was fighting for some better future. Now, however, that belief was fading. That future always seemed to be another maelstrom, another war…more death and suffering, more waste. Duty had become obligation…obligation to his comrades, to the colonists he defended, to all those Marines who’d remained behind on one of those many battlefields. He’d do what was expected of him, what was necessary. But inside there was a growing emptiness.
He had accepted Admiral West’s invitation to ride aboard Cambrai. His inclination, as always, was to stay close to the troops, but this time he decided he would be extraneous at best. Colonel Teller was more than capable of running his brigade, and Cain’s presence on one of the transports could only undermine his authority. Erik wasn’t here to do Teller’s job or to give the impression he didn’t trust the colonel. His purpose was to get a firsthand look at what was going on and to make strategic decisions on the spot.