Forged in Space Boxed Set: Books 1 - 3

Jack Forge, Fleet Marine Omnibus

James David Victor

Fairfield Publishing

Copyright © 2018 Fairfield Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.

Contents

Recruit

Forged in Space

Forged to Lead

Thank You

Recruit

A Jack Forge, Fleet Marine Story

Prologue

The Destroyer Gemini slowed as it approached the massive asteroid. Support fighters raced away from the Gemini and took up flanking positions. Alone and this deep in space, there was always a threat of Chitins. The destroyer activated the deflection laser and began nudging the asteroid off its collision course with the populated planet, Eros.

The first flash came from the shadows on the surface of the asteroid as the Chitin craft fired a plasma spear. The second came from the furthest fighter as the plasma spear vaporized it. Two more flashes from the Chitin weapon quickly destroyed two more fighters.

Within a nanosecond of the first flash, the Gemini’s artificial intelligence targeted the point on the asteroid where the Chitin weapon blasts had originated and launched a salvo of combat drones. At the same time, the forward battery of guns each fired a thousand rounds of high density metallic shot in a wide array over the target area.

The Chitin craft lifted off the surface, spreading its tentacles while charging its primary weapon, avoiding the mass of shot from the Gemini that slammed into the surface of the asteroid, vaporizing the ice and tearing through the rock.

The combat drones identified the Chitin craft as it lifted off the asteroid and automatically targeted the central body within the mass of black, writhing tentacles. The drones accelerated toward the Chitin craft, the magnetic field around the antimatter payload timed to deactivate once in effective range. The Chitin craft fired its arcing plasma flares. Dozens of seething orange strands reached across the space around the craft and sliced through the drones, transforming them into small, short-lived stars that lit up the battle space.

Having reached full power, the high energy laser on the Gemini activated. The beam slammed into the Chitin craft, piercing the tentacles that wrapped forward across the central body in a protective shield. The laser moved slowly and cut across the tentacles, slicing through one and sending it spiraling off into space. The orange liquid interior spilled out from the severed tentacle as it tumbled through the void.

A focused plasma arc erupted from the Chitin central body and slammed into the forward section of the Gemini. The composite hull cracked and fractured, biomech flesh and fluid spewing out and boiling away into space. A second plasma spear sliced clean through the five-hundred-meter-long craft, erupting out of the aft engine assembly.

Automated distress calls from the Gemini died before the ship’s complete log could be transmitted, but as the destroyer burned in the empty interplanetary void, the military command on Eros was receiving the most significant points: the Chitins had struck again and destroyed another major military vessel in a battle that had lasted a fraction under seven seconds.

1

Jack Forge sat in the lecture theater watching the hands on his small silver pocket watch tick across its shimmering pearl face. The latest grades would be revealed in a few moments. The room was silent as the students counted down the seconds.

Attendance at his brother’s funeral had been authorized, so he had been free to leave his studies and attend. Jack knew missing time would still count against his grade, but he was on top of his studies and his grades were excellent. He could afford to drop a few points and still maintain his two-plus student rating.

The recruiting sergeant stood at the front of the theater next to Professor Bowen. One of these men wanted the students to maintain their two-plus, the other did not. His classmates watched the seconds tick down on the large display. Jack watched on his small heirloom. It was all he had left of his family.

The second hand reached the top of its final round. Jack heard the ripples of distress and gasps of horror as the students whose grades had dropped realized they were now the property of the military.

Jack looked up to the display. He picked out his name. He saw it there pulsing on the screen in red, a pattern that could only mean one thing. He scanned across to his grade. Two. Only two. The plus was missing for the first time in his three semesters. Three other names pulsed. Jack knew them all. He’d studied with them, socialized with them, laughed with them. He would most likely never see them again.

The sergeant barked out transfer orders to the first name on the list. Jack watched as the second hand ticked along. He was only seventeen seconds into his new life when his name was called out by the recruiting sergeant.

“Jack Forge. Fleet Marine training.”

Jack looked up from his watch. He looked at Professor Bowen. The old man was slumped in a chair, his eyes averted as his class was further reduced in number.

The doors to the lecture theater opened and military police entered. Jack had seen this before. Students had complained and argued, fought and resisted their removal from university to the ranks of the military or some war production facility. The arguments were familiar to Jack. He heard the most common of them now from across the lecture theatre.

The students being drafted into service promised to pull their grades back up. They argued that it was only a small drop. They argued that they were too smart to be sent to the military. The arguments and complaints descended into shouts and screams as the former students were dragged away. Friends shouted their good-byes. Lovers kissed and cried. As a guard came toward Jack, he tucked away his watch and stood. With a nod to his escort, he walked down the steps at the side of the lecture theater toward the open door.

2

The passenger deck on the transport vehicle was dark and dirty, the air filled with the stench of putrid bodily excretions. A Marine sergeant was pushing the recruits toward the seats that ran along either side of the deck, a small tazer in his hand. The cover on Jack’s chair was covered in dark smears. He sat uncomfortably on the sticky surface. The floor in front of his chair was covered with a caked-on splatter of vomit.

A sudden eruption of gas and steam from a vent above the seat opposite Jack brought gasps and shouts of surprise from the packed passenger deck, and somewhere in the stinking dark, Jack heard a burst of uncontrolled sobbing.

Jack looked at the faces of the young men and women sitting in the seats along the deck. Most were nervous but they all looked like the usual military conscripts, a mix of the poor and stupid, unable for one reason or another to dodge the draft. As he looked along the line, he saw one face glaring back, the hard face and cold eyes of an angry and aggressive recruit.

Jack averted his eyes from the hard stare opposite. The wailing and crying from further down the deck had grown to a wild yelling. It was the same excuses he’d heard in the lecture theater time and again: they shouldn’t be here, it was a mistake, they didn’t belong, they wouldn’t be any good as a soldier. The deck lit up in a flash, accompanied by the fizzing of a tazer. The crying stopped, replaced by the creaking and groaning of the old transport.

The gloom became darker as the massive doors to the passenger deck began to close, filling the air with a rushing hiss of pneumatic pressure. A claxon alarm sounded and then a loud, distorted announcement that was almost impossible to understand. The countdown was clearly understood. Soon Jack would be blasted out into space to one of the off-world training bases.

The acceleration hit like a hammer. Jack was pressed into his seat as the craft raced toward space. A wailing alarm pierced the ear and drowned out the noise of the rattling old ship. A red light flashed across the terrified faces. Shouts of panic and fear came from the new recruits. Jack felt it would be just his luck to get killed on his first flight on a military craft. No need to send these kids to the war, he thought. The military could save a load of time and effort and just incinerate them all in the atmosphere of Eros.

A door at the end of the deck slid open with a hiss and the scraping of metal on metal. A Marine entered the passenger deck, opened an instrument panel on the wall above the row of seats, and began tapping keys and flicking switches. The alarm and flashing light stopped. The deck was still filled with ear-shattering noise from the engine and the wailing recruits. Jack looked across to the Marine who was shouting into a communication panel. He could just make out what was said; why was the transport still suffering from the same fault? Jack couldn’t hear the reply, but he guessed it was not acceptable by the way the Marine slammed the control panel shut.

The Marine turned to look along the passenger deck. Jack saw that the Marine was a woman, a tall, broad-shouldered woman. Her hair was blonde and short, her face set with a grim expression. Gravity fell away and the Marine began to float. She grabbed hold of a rail running along the roof.

“Listen up, hayseeds. Training starts now. I am Lieutenant Crippin. You may call me whatever you like behind my back. Cripple. Crapple. Pin head. Bitch. But to my face, you call me sir. Do you get me?”

Crippin shouted in the face of a young woman, no older than eighteen. The woman shuddered. Her lip wobbled. Crippin shouted again into the girl’s face.

“Do you get me?”

The young woman nodded.

“Give the proper response, hayseed,” Crippin yelled. “Sir, yes, sir.”

The girl spoke quietly. Crippin shouted again, “Sir, yes, sir.” Crippin went to the next recruit, a young man so malnourished he retained his boyish features. Crippin yelled into his gaunt face. “Do you get me, hayseed?”

The recruit shouted, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Crippin straightened up and looked along the deck. “Listen up and you might live. Listen well and you’ll live longer than you deserve. Sergeant Hacker is distributing ration bars. This is today’s ration. Eat it now.”

The sergeant walked along the line of recruits, holding a sack in one hand. He reached in and pulled out a small, silver-colored block. The sergeant began throwing the small blocks into the laps of the recruits.

Jack watched the recruits tearing through the silver cover to the dark sticky mess within.

“Some of you have volunteered. Some of you have been drafted. You are all military now. You are all the same to me. You are all hayseeds.”

Sergeant Hacker threw a ration bar to Jack. He reached out for it, but a boot flicked up from the recruit opposite and kicked it up to the roof. The block bounced off the grubby ceiling and flew down, toward the recruit who had kicked it up. Jack reached out, but the block was just beyond reach. He looked across the person opposite, who reached out and grabbed it.

Jack smiled and held a hand out. “Throw it over,” he said.

“I can read people real good. Better than I can words. I recon you’re a kravin' student. But you dropped a grade and got thrown in here with us. You ain’t so smart as you thought you was.”

Jack held out his hand. “Come on. Give me my rations.”

The recruit sitting to Jack’s left nudged him in the arm. “You won’t get that back from him. He’s a thief. I’m Bill Harts.” Harts held out his hand for Jack.

“Jack Forge,” Jack introduced himself and shook Harts’ hand.

“And he is Sam Torent.” Harts leaned forward toward Torent. “A thief.” Harts turned to Jack and spoke as if to take Jack into his confidence. “I was waiting when the police delivered him. He took military service instead of prison for repetitive thievery.”

Torent smiled and tucked the ration block into his jacket.

“Listen up, hayseeds. It’s my job to turn all of you into something useful, something that can kill Chitin scum. The Chitins want to kill you, and they are good at it. Those of you who listen are more likely to survive. Then you will be able to spend more of your nasty little life killing Chitin scum. Do you get me?”

Sam shouted out with everyone else. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“You, hayseed,” Crippin shouted into Jack’s face. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Jack looked across to Torent, who glared back.

“Sir, I lost my ration bar, sir.”

“Unacceptable, hayseed. That ration bar is military property. It was your responsibility to see it was used in the correct manner. If the military gives you a pulse rifle and you lose that, how are you going to shred Chitin scum, hayseed? Next time the military gives you a piece of equipment, you look after it like it was your own nut sack. You get me, hayseed?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jack shouted. And as Crippin walked on shouting about the limited duration of the training and the limited resources available, Jack looked across to Torent as he bit into his ration bar. The dark, sticky bar stuck to Torent’s teeth and he gave Jack a big, sticky smile.

3

The craft landed heavily. The deck was filled with alarms and eruptions of gasses from vents high on the walls. One recruit further along the line started screaming as a jet of heated gas erupted from a fracture in the inner hull. Crippin raced toward the stricken, wailing recruit, yelling as she went. “Clear the deck, hayseeds. Form them up on the landing pad, Sergeant Hacker.”

Jack fell in line with the others as they marched off the transport onto the landing pad, where they were beaten into a straight line by Sergeant Hacker. The recruits fell silent as a stretcher was brought out of the passenger craft containing the pitiful, whimpering recruit, his skin burned and scalded so badly he was almost unrecognizable.

Jack’s attention was jerked away from the stretcher by a yelp of pain from one of the recruits. Jack looked back and saw Sergeant Hacker walking through the lines, a small tazer in his hand. He jabbed the glowing end into the gut of the next in line. The recruit doubled over with pain. The next recruit backed away as Hacker came close, the tazer held forward, a huge grin on the big sergeant’s face.

“Sergeant Hacker!” Crippin shouted. Hacker came to attention. “Are you tazering those recruits, Sergeant?”

Hacker held up the tazer for Crippin to see.

Crippin picked her way through the assembly to the two recruits lying and writhing on the ground.

“Did Sergeant Hacker tazer you, hayseed?” Crippin asked one of the recruits gently.

The recruit nodded.

“On your feet, hayseed, or Sergeant Hacker will taze you again.” Crippin took position in front of the recruits.

“Listen up,” Crippin shouted. “The training complex is ten kilometers in that direction. Sergeant Hacker will tazer every recruit not running. Demonstrate please, Sergeant Hacker.”

Hacker jabbed the tazer into the ribs of the recruit standing next to him. The recruit yelped, crumpled, and fell.

“And when you get to the complex,” Crippin went on, “I want to see you standing in two neat ranks, not this scruffy arrangement. If not, Sergeant Hacker will tazer you. Demonstrate please.”

Another recruit collapsed under the tazer’s sting.

Crippin climbed into a small two-seat buggy and started the engine. “Run, hayseeds,” she shouted and then sped off.

Ten kilometers wasn’t a challenge for Jack and he set off at a jog. Others sprinted past, all glancing back over their shoulders, looking out for Sergeant Hacker and his busy little tazer. Gravity on the training moon was high for its size. The moon had formed around a neutron star fragment, creating a gravity field on the small moon just above one-G. The atmosphere was thin but breathable.

After what felt like an eight-kilometer run, Jack saw the training complex at the base of a small hill in the distance. The buildings looked to be around four kilometers away. The extra gravity and the thin air was making the run more difficult than Jack was used to. He glanced back and saw he was leading the field. The recruits were strung out over a distance of about a kilometer. Jack slowed to a jog. The runner coming up next was the recruit who’d taken Jack’s ration bar, Sam Torent. Behind Torent came a small bunch, jogging and puffing, red cheeks and sweating brows.

Torent fixed Jack with a stare as he pushed on. Jack could see Torent was struggling to keep the pace but he was ahead of all the others and closing in on Jack. The look was icy and hard with threat and menace. Jack guessed Torent was angry that a university reject was beating him in the race.

Jack focused on the buildings of the training complex. It was still a long ways away, but Jack knew he had the energy left to make it comfortably, even given the slightly heavier gravity. It was too far out to sprint, but Jack knew how hard he could push himself. He ran hard.

Jack felt his lungs burn and his legs wobble as he ran the last few meters up the hill to a parade ground in front of the set of buildings. Lieutenant Crippin was waiting, sitting on her buggy. Jack smiled at Crippin and raised a hand in the air to claim victory in the race. He slowed to a walk and approached Crippin.

“Pleased with yourself?” Crippin asked.

“That was a bit slow for me,” Jack replied, smiling.

“Sir!” Crippin shouted.

Jack came to attention. “Sir, sorry, sir.”

“And will you always run and leave your squad behind, hayseed?”

“Sir?” Jack asked, confused.

“You have left a dozen of your squad-mates back there all getting tazered by Sergeant Hacker just so you could get here sooner. What did you expect to find here?” Crippin climbed off the buggy and approached Jack. “A warm and friendly welcome? A nice soft bunk? A glass of lemonade?” Crippin jabbed Jack in the shoulder. “Run, hayseed. Go help the squad. And if you leave your team behind again, I’ll tazer you myself. Run.”

Jack turned and started jogging down the slope. Away in the distance, he could see the most distant recruits all panting for breath and keeping one step ahead of Hacker and his tazer. Jack paced himself carefully. This was turning into a longer run than he had first thought.

Up the hill came Torent. He’d fallen in with the small group that had been snapping at his heels. Torent grinned at Jack as they passed each other on the slope. Jack heard Lieutenant Crippin shout as Torent as his group came close.

“Fall in, hayseeds. Two neat ranks. Hands by your sides. Eyes front. Do you get me, hayseeds?”

And as Jack dug deep for his extra reserves, he heard the small group of recruits shout their reply.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

4

Jack stood in the second row of recruits. Crippin stood to one side, calling out instructions to the recruits, telling them how to stand at attention in their ranks. Sergeant Hacker went along the lines, his tazer fizzing and ready for action. Jack wanted to sneak a look at his watch to check the time, but recruits that had been spotted making the most minor unauthorized movements had been punished for it. He guessed he had been standing here for over an hour. The sun seemed to hang on the horizon permanently, bathing the small parade ground in a weak twilight.

Standing still for a prolonged period was harder than Jack thought it could ever be. He felt his legs turning slowly to jelly. He had already run ten kilometers and then doubled back to help the struggling recruits. It was all taking its toll and Jack felt sure his legs would give way under him. The last recruit to have collapsed had been treated to multiple stings from Hackers tazer. Jack would avoid the tazer if he could. He tried to focus on a distant point and recall a happier time.

Jack thought of home. It had been a happy childhood and he had enjoyed the long, warm days in the fields of his island home on the planet Eros. But soon, thoughts of home reminded him of loss. He remembered his father leaving to join the military when the Chitins first made their presence in the outer system known. His father had been lost in the first conflict with the Chitins during the attempted blockade of the Chitin’s gas giant planet, Zelos.

His mother had become a shadow after that. She neglected herself and the boys, and one day, she was just gone. The social workers who had come to take Jack and his brother away couldn’t tell them what had happened to her. Jack had asked if she was looking for his father. The sad smile from the social worker that answered Jack’s question blew away all hope. That was the moment that twelve-year-old Jack grew up.

His childhood had crumbled and ended in a few cruel months. Jack’s brother became angry and then distant as he buried himself in virtual reality. He played the hero of the military and spent days on end fighting the Chitins in the various government provided training simulations barely disguised as games.

Jack buried himself in school. It was an escape. It was a challenge. It was fun. Jack enjoyed numbers and the certainty they seemed to offer. He spent years in quiet calculation. At times, he wondered if he was avoiding calculating all he had lost.

The sun dipped a fraction and the parade ground was plunged quickly and cruelly into a deep cold. The cold air burned Jack’s lungs. His legs felt the cold bite and his sweat-soaked shirt began to stiffen with ice crystals. The door to the bunkhouse slid open and spilled a bright welcoming light out over the parade ground.

“All right, hayseeds. Shower time.”

* * *

Lieutenant Crippin walked in through the open door. Sergeant Hacker stood at the open door and waved the recruits in. Jack was one of the last recruits in. The door slid shut and closed the recruits into a long, bare corridor. Lieutenant Crippin walked along the line with Sergeant Hacker marching behind.

At the end of the corridor, Jack saw a small doorway. Crippin shouted along the line. “Strip, you hayseeds. We will wash away your civilian life and dress you in your military skin. You will leave the last of your old life behind in this corridor and step bravely toward your new life as a Fleet Marine recruit. You get me, hayseeds?”

The recruits stripped reluctantly. A brief threat from Hacker’s tazer hurried those who showed reluctance. Jack picked his watch out of his pocket. Maybe they would let him keep it if he told Crippin it was all he had left of his family. Somehow, he guessed he was being inducted into a new family and Crippin would take the small silver watch from him.

He watched as the recruits stripped. Some were more willing than others to undress in front of a group of strangers, but none of them were quick enough for Crippin and Hacker. Resistance was clearly unacceptable and Jack saw a recruit tazered, pushed to the ground, and stripped by Sergeant Hacker.

Jack held the watch in his hand. It was hidden in his palm but only just. He pressed it into his armpit. It was better hidden, but it made it very difficult to move freely and he certainly couldn’t get undressed while holding it there. The line ahead of Jack was shrinking by the second. The recruits were becoming more comfortable with stripping as the pile of discarded clothes grew. Jack pushed the watch into his mouth. It fit, barely. It tasted of dirty silver, a tang of salt and acid. It was the best place to hide it. He hoped he would not have to answer Crippin before he had a chance to hide it somewhere else.

At the front of the line, Jack stripped in a moment. He tossed his old shirt, his threadbare trousers, boots, and tattered underwear onto the pile of clothes and walked through the door to the sounds of running water.

* * *

Jack was first sprayed head to toe with a foul-smelling soap before he reached the shower. The tepid water dribbled out of the tarnished showerheads in the ceiling of the shower block. Jack forced himself to stand under the water and attempted to wash the soap away.

He moved from the shower to the dryer. A cold blast of air chilled Jack. He rubbed away the water and dried his cold skin. Then he walked, shivering, toward another doorway.

The doorway led to a corridor. On one side was a small hatch and Jack could see the cold, washed recruits picking up small bundles. There was a bright yellow uniform and a pair of black boots. The corridor opened out into a wide area where the recruits were hurriedly pulling on their new clothes.

Crippin and Hacker were milling about the recruits and hurrying them to dress. No one needed extra encouragement to quickly cover their nakedness. Jack pulled on his pants, spat his watch into his hand, and thrust it quickly into his pocket.

“It’s the runner, Sergeant Hacker,” Crippin said, stepping up alongside Jack.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Crippin repeated with a hint of approval. “You learn fast. Let’s hope you learn as fast as you run. You want a night run now, recruit?”

“Sir?” Jack asked, feeling pretty tired but not wanting to say no while the sergeant and his tazer were so close by.

“Sure you do,” Crippin said and fixed Jack with a smile. Then she shouted, “Listen up, hayseeds. Recruit Forge here wants a night run. Form up. We’re running the hill.”

* * *

The cold and dark made the run up the hill hard. The recruits struggled, tripping on loose stones scattered over the dimly lit path. Sergeant Hacker’s tazer fizzed threateningly just behind the pack. Jack ran with the group. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind and be made to run back and help them. He stayed at the back, just ahead of the tazer, and encouraged the recruits who were falling off the pace. Jack felt the hostility from the group. He knew they all blamed him for this hard run. Jack knew it wasn’t his fault. Crippin had done it because she hated him, probably hated all university students. Maybe she was worried that Jack was smarter than she was. Whatever her problem was, Jack knew it wasn’t his fault that they were running the hill. Crippin would probably have made them do it anyway. There was a definite pattern to all this, the distribution of rations, the shower, uniform distribution, and now a run. Crippin probably did the same with all new recruits. Jack couldn’t think why, he didn’t understand the way the military thought. What he did know was that the military was struggling to find recruits.

There had been a steady stream of volunteers to the military after the first Chitin attacks. Now that stream had slowed to a trickle. Jack feared one thing above all else—although they were told about all the great victories against the Chitins, Jack guessed that humanity was losing the fight.

Jack spotted the dim light up ahead and the silhouette of Crippin.

“Come on, hayseeds. Nearly there.” Crippin stood next to a small column. “Tap the top, hayseeds. Then get back to that bunkhouse.”

Jack tapped the stone column. It was smooth to the touch, polished by thousands of hands of recruits who’d run up the hill. He turned to head back down, thinking of nothing but food. His stomach was empty and it hurt.

“Not you, hayseed,” Crippin said.

Jack felt Crippin’s hand on his shoulder. He watched the other recruits tap the plinth, turn, and struggle back down the hill.

“Last one to the bunkhouse takes first watch,” Crippin shouted. She pulled Jack’s shoulder and turned him to face her. “And that last recruit will be you, hayseed,” Crippin said. “Get me?”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Jack ran down the hill. He heard the recruits ahead in the darkness. He saw the distant lights from the bunkhouse. He heard the fizzing tazer and the heavy footfalls of Sergeant Hacker just behind him.

Jack was cold, tired, and hungry. Only twenty-four hours ago, he was in his university dorm room feeling sure that he would have the grades to continue his studies. He’d never dropped a grade before. His brother’s death had affected him more than he realized. He cursed his brother for dying. He cursed Professor Bowen for not fixing his grades. He cursed Torent for stealing his ration bar. He cursed Crippin for making everyone hate him. He cursed his bad luck.

He tripped and fell forward into the dark. The ground slammed into him hard. He heard the fizzing of the tazer come close to his ear. He felt the kick from Sergeant Hacker. Jack struggled to his feet and ran on into the dark.

5

When Jack woke, tired, hungry, and cold, Lieutenant Crippin was shouting again.

The recruits were climbing out of beds that Jack was sure were just as uncomfortable as his own. Jack checked that his watch was safe in its new hiding place, tucked inside the thin mattress through a split in the stitching. Then, having satisfied himself that the watch was safe, he slipped out from under his rough blanket and stood on the cold, stone floor. Sergeant Hacker was walking along the line of bunks, throwing a silver-wrapped ration bar onto each bunk. Jack grabbed his immediately. He wasn’t missing out on what might be his only meal of the day.

“Eat, you hayseeds,” Crippin shouted. “We’ve got a long day ahead. We are going to start training for war. It is my duty to train you to kill Chitin scum and not get killed by Chitin scum. Form up on the parade ground. Ninety seconds, hayseeds. You get me?”

Jack shouted his reply through a mouthful of the sticky ration bar. It tasted sweet and meaty, with a bitter chemical aftertaste. Jack felt an immediate burst of energy both physically and mentally. He dressed and was out the door before the last bite was in his stomach.

Once in line, the recruits were marched off the parade ground and up the hill. The march was easier in daylight and with a full stomach and the energy provided by whatever secret ingredient had been included in the dark, heavy ration bar. From the top of the hill, Jack could see the training ground—a series of hills all topped with small metallic fortifications.

Between the hills lay a series of well-trodden paths and obstacles of various kinds. Some obstacles were designed to be climbed, others to be crawled under. Many were lined with coils of barbed wire.

“Today is just to warm you up,” Crippin said. “You will run the course and complete the exercises. If anybody falls too far behind, they will wish they hadn’t.”

Crippin led the recruits off the hill toward the start of the course. She lined up the recruits at the start point. “You can’t get lost,” Crippin said. “You can’t avoid any exercise. You start when I tell you. You stop when I tell you. Move these hayseeds out, Sergeant.”

Hacker started shoving the recruits forward one at a time until the whole squad got the message and started moving down the hill toward the training course.

It was exciting at first. Jack enjoyed the open running between obstacles. The various obstacles were easy at first. Whether he was climbing or crawling, Jack threw himself at the obstacles with enthusiasm. He had never had much time for crawling in the dirt. He had always enjoyed less strenuous activities, but today, he was pumped.

The run between each obstacle was the easiest part for Jack and soon, he was leading the field. The ration filled his stomach but didn’t weigh him down, and the chemicals rushing through his veins kept him focused and enthusiastic.

Jack ran toward a rifle range. A number of rifles lay chained to a table. Beyond the table stood a line of targets, each one further away, at hundred-meter intervals.

Crippin stood to one side of the table, a small case of ammunition at her side. She handed out magazines to each recruit.

“You have five shots, hayseeds. Hit your targets or I’ll have Sergeant Hacker hit you. The military doesn’t have bullets for you to waste on poor shooting. We have got to save all our ammunition for killing the damn Chitin scum. Hit your targets.”

Jack snatched up a rifle. It was lighter than it looked. It was formed from the same composite as the hull of a spacecraft. Jack looked down the sights to the first target. The telescopic effect of the rifle sight made the target appear within arm’s reach. The furthest appeared a mere stone’s throw away.

“Load your weapon, hayseed,” Crippin shouted. “You are not here to enjoy the scenery. This is where we turn hayseeds into Chitin killers. Load your weapon.”

The weapon was simple by design. It was easy to understand and easy to use. The place where the ammunition was to be inserted was clearly marked. Jack rammed the magazine home, chambered a round, and took aim.

The rifle kick was enormous. It powered back into Jack’s shoulder. The force pushed Jack backwards through the dirt. He recovered himself and looked down the sight at his target. He’d hit the bullseye.

“Good first shot, hayseed. But there will be more than one Chitin out there for you to kill.”

Jack fired his next shot at the target two hundred meters away. Another bullseye.

As Jack was sighting the next target, a recruit came running up to the range. Jack heard the panting of someone running hard. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, someone bumped into him. His finger touched the trigger and the rifle fired. It slammed awkwardly into his shoulder. The rifle was not sitting true when it fired and the butt of the rifle sent a sudden jolt of pain shooting through Jack’s shoulder. Jack looked to see who had bumped into him. He looked over to the grinning, grubby face of Torent.

“I’ll show you how to shoot, Forge,” Torent said. He quickly loaded his rifle, sighted his target, and pulled the trigger, all in an instant.

“Bullseye, hayseed.” Crippin was looking down range through her small set of binoculars.

Torent looked at Jack and grinned. He fired his remaining shots in quick succession, then dropped the weapon and was off running.

Jack took aim at the next target. He fired his shot.

“Another bull, hayseed,” Crippin shouted. “You missed one. Don’t miss another. We haven’t got spare ammunition for you to miss, hayseed.”

Jack took careful aim at the next target. Even through the sights, it appeared distant. A strong heat haze made the target wobble. Jack relaxed and fired.

“No bull,” Crippin said, “but at least you hit the target. If that had been a Chitin’s massive head, you would have hit it alright.”

A group of recruits came panting and puffing to the table with the rifles. In a moment, every rifle was taken and shots were being fired every couple of seconds.

Bill Harts came up to the table and grabbed the rifle next to Jack. He loaded, took aim, and fired. “Missed,” he said.

“Just relax,” Jack said. “Take aim. Breathe in. And then fire.”

Bill took aim again. His response told Jack what he needed to know. Bill had missed again.

“Take a bit more time to get your sights in. Relax. Don’t jerk the rifle when you fire.”

“Concentrate on your own targets, hayseed,” Crippin shouted. “If we need rifle training officers here, we will request them from the military command. But they won’t be sending us any. All soldiers who can shoot are out there killing Chitins.”

Jack heard the familiar buzz of Hacker’s tazer close by. He put the noise out of his mind and took aim. Jack completed his rounds and recorded three bulls. If it wasn’t for Torent, he would have had a clean sweep. Jack dropped his rifle and ran off, determined to catch and overtake Sam Torent.

* * *

The extra gravity on the small moon started to take its toll. Jack saw Torent up ahead. He looked to be struggling too as he glanced back over his shoulder. Jack saw him put his head down and put in an effort to run harder when he saw Jack was catching him.

Another few minutes and Jack was coming level with Torent. Jack kept his eyes on the path ahead. The next obstacle was only a few strides ahead. He pulled away from Torent easily and approached the obstacle.

Barbed wire was strung across the path, leaving a small gap underneath. The ground was littered with sharp rock fragments the size of Jack’s fist. A sign on either side of the path warned of live gunfire. Jack saw the automatic gun battery on one side of the obstacle. He dropped to the ground and began crawling.

The barbed wire was low but gave Jack enough room. He picked his way around the sharp rocks, taking care not to hurt his arms as he crawled along. It wasn’t as tough as it first looked. And then the gunfire started.

The guns fired a two-second burst. The bullets tore through the air and made a strange fizzing sound as the air around the bullets boiled. The bullets thumped into the dirt mound on the opposite side. Jack stopped crawling and pressed himself to the ground. He felt trapped by the wire above him. Running was one thing, firing a rifle was exciting, but this? Being shot at with rapid fire automatic weapons was terrifying. And then the whole experience started to feel like a horrible dream. He should be back in university. He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. This had been a huge mistake. Just on the point of getting to his feet and declaring the whole thing a huge mistake, another burst of gunfire erupted.

Torent scurried past Jack. The gun spat out one short burst after another while Jack pressed himself closer to the ground, trying desperately to get away from the terrifying sounds of bullets above him. Then he saw Torent look back as he got to the other side of the wire.

Seeing the smirk on Torent’s face as he looked back through the wire spurred Jack into action. He started moving again and picked his way gingerly through the rocks and flinched at every crack from the huge automated weapon. Other recruits were making it to the wire and Jack heard their voices ranging from worry to fear, and then he heard the shouts from Lieutenant Crippin and the zaps from Sergeant Hacker’s tazer. The sounds of worry and fear turned to yelps of pain and cries of distress as the recruits were forced to move forward.

Jack reached the end of the wire with cuts on his hands and a huge gash on his elbow where he’d caught the sharp point of a rock. Torent was running but struggling. Jack knew he could catch him.

Jack judged the distance to Torent and paced himself. And then further up ahead, Jack saw Crippin sitting on her buggy. It looked like a finish line. Jack had been running and crawling and dodging bullets for several hours. He was sure it was time for a break. Crippin was pushing them all to breaking point, but Jack was sure she didn’t want to actually break them. Recruits were not easy to find.

Jack spotted the small pile of silver ration bars and water cooler on a trailer hooked up to Crippin’s buggy. It was either a cruel joke or it was time for a rest. Jack decided to be optimistic. He decided Crippin was going to let them rest. But before he could rest, he had to beat Torent to the finish.

Jack put his head down and gave it everything. No point leaving anything out on the course when he could burn all his reserve and beat Torent. Jack would show that thief. Jack was going to steal first place from him.

Jack’s legs burned. They wobbled. He pressed on. He kept upright by strength of will. He would win. He looked up to check his progress. Torent had slowed to a walk but was still moving forward, and he was still ahead. Jack put his head down and ran. He would pass Torent with a hundred meters to spare.

Jack closed in on Torent and found an extra burst of energy with the joy of beating the thief. He turned and looked back at Torent just in time to see Torent stick his foot out. Torent’s foot tapped Jack’s ankle. It was the slightest of touches, but it was enough to unbalance him.

Jack fell forward, sprawling over the sharp rock fragments. He cut his hands, knees, face. His head spun, and blood burst out of his nose and ran into his mouth. He watched Torent run off toward Lieutenant Crippin. Jack tasted blood as he climbed to his hands and knees. The dark sand on the ground felt cold. He felt a hot flush and dizziness.

The horizon and the darkness of space beyond the surface of the small moon wobbled. Jack looked up and saw Torent reach Crippin and the pile of ration bars. And then behind, he heard the rumble of footsteps as the rest of the recruits came running.

6

Jack sat on his bunk and treated his many cuts. A small package of medical supplies had been thrown on each bunk. Jack picked through the small collection of bandages to find the best fit for the largest of his cuts. He readied the bandage and then splashed on some of the antiseptic wash.

“You were really good out there today.”

Jack looked over to Bill Harts, who was lying on the bunk next to Jack.

Jack nodded. “Thanks,” he replied.

“I can’t believe Cripps made him squad leader.”

Jack peeled the back off a bandage and placed it over one of his cuts. Torent was sitting on the other side of the bunkhouse, showing off his new badge and enjoying the attention from the recruits who were trying to ally themselves to the new squad leader.

Jack looked at Torent. It was not as though Jack had wanted the position of squad leader, but it seemed unfair of Crippin, stupid and shortsighted even, to select Torent. She had based her decision on the results of the day’s exercise. Torent had beaten Jack to the finish, but unfairly. He had scored higher in target practice, but again, only because he had caused Jack to miss.

And Jack had helped Bill Harts on the shooting range. Crippin had said he should help the others in the team; it had been her first lesson to him. Torent had cheated his way to the head of the group. Jack watched him preening and showing off his little badge, enjoying the attention.

Torent caught Jack’s eye. He smirked at Jack, a familiar expression now, and one that sent Jack into thoughts of violence and revenge. He imagined how he would hurt that damn thief. He was undeserving of the position. Jack knew he was a better choice. He was fitter, faster, and he had an education. He was a more suitable choice and he knew it. Crippin must be an idiot if she couldn’t see it too.

“Did he trip you right in front of Cripps?”

Jack grunted and gave the slightest nod.

“She should have had Hacker taze him, not give him that badge.”

“He can keep it,” Jack said. He gathered up the medical supplies and put them back into the small package. He guessed he would need to use this again. He was going to put it out of sight. His footlocker was the obvious place for it, but it was also the most obvious place for thieves to look. He could hide the medical kit with his watch.

Jack glanced around as casually as he could, making sure no one was watching him. He slipped his hand under the threadbare sheet and his fingers searched for the small opening. He pressed his fingers inside and felt for his watch.

Panic suddenly swelled inside him. Jack felt the hot, prickly heat of fear. The watch was gone. He forgot furtive action and looked at the small hole in his mattress. He tore at it with both hands, the bandages peeling away as he searched inside for his watch. His watch. He reached deeper inside feeling for the familiar metal casing. He couldn’t lose his watch.

Jack climbed off his bunk and looked at the small tear. He looked inside.

“What you doing?” Harts asked casually.

Jack felt all over the top of his mattress, pressing his fingers into the thin padding, feeling for his watch.

His watch. He had to find his watch. How could it be gone? Had Crippin come and searched the bunkhouse while they were out training? She hadn’t been present for the whole day. It had been Sergeant Hacker who had kept the recruits on course with only his tazer and the threat of its sting to motivate them all.

His watch. It was gone. Taken. Stolen. Jack looked around the bunkhouse at all the unfamiliar faces, people he had been thrown in with, people he had only just met, people he could not trust. People he did not like.

“Is something missing?” Harts asked. “I saw Torent looking at your mattress. Right there. That corner.”

Jack fixed Harts with a fierce look. “When?” Jack asked.

Harts backed up slightly under Jack’s harsh stare. “When you were in the bathroom, just after we got back.”

Jack looked over at Torent. He was sitting back on his bunk, picking at a small wound on his hand.

“Then I saw him doing something with the corner of his mattress. I thought he was checking to see who had the most comfortable bunk. He checked them all.”

Jack walked across the bunkhouse and straight over to Torent. The thief barely looked up.

“What do you want?” Torent said, his voice as cold as the bunkhouse floor.

Jack grabbed the corner of Torent’s mattress and felt for his watch or a tear in the stitching.

“Hey, get the krav out of here.” Torent stood up and squared off against Jack.

Jack stepped back. There was no watch or any cut in the mattress. He looked back toward Harts, who was watching with a worried expression. Harts made the slightest gesture and indicated that Jack should check the other side.

Torent’s allies were getting off their bunks and moving slowly toward Torent and Jack, drawn by the noise and the distraction.

Jack moved quickly to the other side of the bunk and grabbed the corner, feeling again for a hole.

“Get your kravin’ little claws off my bunk, Forge.” Torent followed Jack and grabbed him by the collar.

Jack felt his watch. He felt the cold silver on his fingertips. He wasn’t going to let Torent take it from him. Jack jerked away from Torent’s grip. He dug his fingers into the mattress and pulled the watch free. He turned and faced up to Torent, the watch held up accusingly.

“You touch anything of mine again...” Jack said.

“I didn’t put that there,” Torent replied, his familiar smirk plastered over his face.

“You’re a thief, a kraving thief.” Jack held up the watch again.

Torent laughed a cold, humorless laugh. “I didn’t take that crappy piece of junk.”

“You stole my rations. You stole my watch. You stole the lead today.”

Torent’s face turned dark and hard. He stepped forward and closed in on Jack. “If I want your damn watch, I will take it. If I want your food, I will take it. If I want your blood, I will take it.” Torent shoved Jack.

“You keep out of my stuff,” Jack said with as much venom as he could muster.

“Get the krav out of my face, Forge.” Torent sat on his bunk.

Jack walked back to his bunk. He knew he needed to find somewhere else for his watch. He would have to keep it on him and just take care not to bash it. He picked up the small medical supply pack and started to work it into a protective case for his watch. He felt the adrenaline in his body, the sweat on his face, and his heavy breathing. His hands were shaking as he tried to secure his watch in a protective packet. He glanced over at Torent. The thief was resting easy on his bunk, his hands behind his head. He seemed totally unaffected by the accusation and the altercation.

Only a thief could be so calm, Jack thought.

Jack tucked the wrapped watch into the pocket of his pants. Then the double-door at the end of the bunkhouse burst open. Sergeant Hacker came walking down the aisle between the bunks. He pushed the few recruits who were standing toward their bunks with one hand while the tazer burned in the other. They got the message. It was time for lights out.

7

“Listen up, hayseeds.” Crippin paced in front of the recruits on the parade ground. “Today, we run the course proper.”

Jack ached from the previous day’s exercise. His cuts stung and his legs were stiff. He’d run the course again and this time, Torent would be left in his dust.

“We played nice yesterday. Today, you are going to work hard. Fall too far behind and you will be tazed. Miss your target on the rifle range and you will be tazed. And if you are standing here in the next five seconds, you will be tazed. Do you get me, hayseeds?”

Jack heard the recruits shouting, “sir, yes, sir,” but he was already running toward the hill.

“What are you waiting for, hayseeds?”

The hill was easy. Jack looked back to measure his lead. He was on the top before his nearest rival was halfway. Torent was jogging along with a group of his new cronies.

Jack looked down to the course. The small hills with the forts on top and the familiar paths that he’d run and crawled over the day before. The sound of panting breath and heavy foot falls behind him told Jack that the rest of the recruits were closing in. Jack ran down hill. He could run as easily downhill as he could on the flat. He knew he wasn’t strong, but he had balance and stamina. He could keep this up all day. He was sure Torent would struggle after a time. The thief might be good at crawling through tight spaces, probably practice from housebreaking, and he might have some practice at running, probably from the police, but Torent was a kravin’ gutter chit. Jack knew Torent could never match him.

The first obstacle was the wall and Jack was able to leap and grab the top. He scrambled and struggled and made the top of the wall. The thief would probably be better at shimmying up walls, all part of the housebreaker’s craft, but Jack was still ahead of him. Jack turned to lower himself down the other side.

Jack ran between the hills, following the path that thousands of recruits had run before him. The next obstacle was a series of raised beams surrounded by thick mud. He ran across the beams, leaping from one to another, and finally jumped to the firm ground on the other side. A quick glance back and he saw Torent still running with his group.

Jack climbed and ran, and crawled and ran, and every now and then glanced back. He was pulling away from Torent. Today, he was going to stay ahead.

The rifle range was next and Jack prepared his weapon quickly. He took his time to breathe and aim, but he only needed to hit his target, a bull was not essential. Jack fired his rounds quickly and scored all hits and all bulls. He was a competent and confident shot. He didn’t need to think about it. He let himself admire his marksmanship for a few moments before setting off at a jog for the next obstacle.

The next path was clear and Jack ran on. He knew the military had drafted dozens of students who had dropped a grade in the last few months. He knew they had all been brought to one of these training bases. This one was completely empty. The only people he had seen in the last few days were Crippin, Hacker, and those who had arrived on the transport ship with him. Where was everyone else? There must be other training bases in the system, Jack thought. This was a small moon and he could probably run around it in a day or two. There could be another base here, they just hadn’t seen.

Jack spotted the next obstacle, a series of ropes that he had to hang from and use to work his way over the dark, sticky mud underneath. Some ropes hung vertically and some horizontally. He grabbed hold of the first and started off. The vertical ropes were the hardest to hold and move between. The horizontal ropes were easier. Jack hung from one, looking at the next.

Reaching out for the next rope, Jack heard recruits reaching the obstacle. He turned, hoping it wasn’t Torent. It was two other recruits, part of Torent’s little gang. One was skinny and fast, the other ugly and brutish. The burning in Jack’s arms threatened to overwhelm him. He looked down at the sticky mess below. There was no way he was going to let himself drop into that. He looked to the next rope. He had no time to spare.

The sounds of the rest of the squad running toward the rope obstacle caught Jack’s ear. Torent was surely still in the pack. Jack looked at the next rope and grabbed it. Arms burning and lungs gasping, he cleared the ropes. Looking back, he saw that the skinny recruit and the ugly recruit were catching up. Setting off at a fast pace, Jack ran off along the next empty path.

It was a short run. Jack knew he was starting to slow. He glanced back and saw that the two recruits on his tail had almost caught him, but they were almost exhausted. He could pull away from them over the next few hundred meters, they didn’t look to have the strength to keep up their pace to the end of the day. They would collapse any minute and get tazed by Hacker.

The skinny recruit ran alongside Jack and grabbed him around the shoulders, pulling him to the ground.

“What the krav?” Jack shouted. “Get off me.”

The skinny recruit said nothing, just held Jack tightly. Then the ugly recruit came and dropped a knee on Jack’s back.

“Got you,” the ugly one said and twisted his knee in Jack’s back. “Go and tell Squad Leader we got him.”

“No kravin’ way,” said the skinny one. “I ain’t got another squirt of energy in me.”

Jack realized what was happening. Torent had sent his cronies ahead to stop him. Now Torent could take the lead and cruise to a winning finish again.

Jack heaved suddenly and broke out of the hold. But before he could get to his feet, the recruit with the knee on his back grabbed Jack’s collar.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Jack struggled to get away, but the two held him down.

Another recruit came running around the corner. She was red-faced and breathing hard, but she had enough energy to smile. She slowed to a jogging pace and went on by.

“Not too fast,” the ugly recruit called out. “Squad Leader wants the win.”

The girl stopped. She put her hands on her knees and breathed heavily, sweat dripping from her face onto the ground next to Jack.

“No,” she said. “He just wants him to come last.” She smiled and then winked at Jack before taking off at a jog toward the next obstacle.

Jack felt fury. He waited until he felt the hold on him relax and fought suddenly to break their grip. It was a waste of effort. He needed to conserve his energy. Once Torent went by, Jack would be able to throw everything into the run and catch up. Jack relaxed and waited.

Soon, Jack heard a group coming near. They were running and someone in the group was counting and keeping pace. They came around the corner, the whole group of Torent’s cronies. And there in the middle was Torent. He looked down at Jack and smiled as he jogged by.

Jack seethed, but he admired the thief’s smarts. He’d got the entire squad to work together, sending some ahead to catch him and using the rest as pace-setters.

“Keep him here,” Torent said as he jogged by.

“How long for?” the skinny recruit asked.

“Until Hacker gets here,” Torent said with a wink.

“But we’ll get tazed,” the recruit complained.

Torent just shrugged and jogged on. “It don’t hurt too bad,” he said.

Jack wriggled again and struggled to get free. “Just let me sit up, for krav sake,” Jack said calmly.

“You run and I’ll hurt you,” the ugly one said.

But Jack didn’t have a chance to reply. Hacker came jogging around the corner. The three recruits sitting in the dirt looked up at the big sergeant. The tazer fizzed and blasted out a wide beam that slammed into the three of them. Jack felt the blast hit every cell in his body at once. He tasted the energy flowing over the saliva in his mouth. His arms and legs jerked about as if they had been set free from Jack’s body and given life of their own. He felt the pain of them slamming into the ground as they flapped around. And then as the energy gathered in the base of Jack’s skull, he felt consciousness slip away.

8

The noise of the bunkhouse filtered into Jack’s consciousness. He woke on his bunk, the taste of the tazer still on his tongue. Then the events of the day came back to him. He’d been cheated and beaten by Torent again. Jack’s hand went to his pocket. He touched his watch. The feel of it against his fingers calmed him. Then the sound of Torent laughing with his inner circle of recruits spoiled Jack’s momentary calm and his heart filled with anger once again.

Jack lifted himself up on his elbow.

“Don’t strain yourself, Jack.” Bill was sitting up on his bunk. “It takes a while to get over your first tazing.”

“Did Hacker get you too?” Jack said.

“I didn’t make it half the way. Missed my first target at the rifle range and got tazed.”

“Sorry, Bill,” Jack said, lying back on his bunk. “Should have waited around for you and helped out.”

“Don’t know how you could help, unless you killed Hacker.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Jack settled into his rough blanket. “Threatening a sergeant is a flogging offence.”

“There are a few people around here I would like to see flogged.”

Jack looked over at Bill, who was staring at Torent. It was a hard thing to wish on someone. Flogging was painful and brutal.

Then the doors at the end of the bunkhouse burst open and Sergeant Hacker walked in. Torent jumped to his feet and shouted at the recruits.

“Sergeant on deck. Stand by your bunks.”

Jack struggled to climb out of his bunk. Hacker walked over and pressed Jack back. There was a gentleness behind the big sergeant’s rough hand. Hacker stepped away and turned to Torent. With a brisk wave, he indicated all recruits to bunk down.

Torent shouted, “Lights out. In your bunks, recruits.”

The bunkhouse was briefly a buzz of activity as the recruits jumped onto their beds. Torent was the last one standing. Sergeant Hacker walked over to Torent and grabbed him roughly by the collar. Jack watched as Hacker pressed his hard face close to Torent’s. Hacker pressed Torent toward his bunk, pushed him back toward it, and held him there. The sergeant let out a low, guttural growl before letting go and walking out of the bunkhouse. And as the doors swung shut, the lights went out. Jack slipped easily back into sleep.

* * *

Jack woke to shouts from Crippin. The light from the sun low on the horizon felt like early morning back home but here on this small moon with its strange orbital and rotational cycle the low sun could mean anything. Jack suspected they had only been given a few hours of sleep. His body ached with the trauma of a hundred hours of running and crawling he’d done since his arrival on the training moon. His mood was dark with resentment at the military for taking his education away and dropping him on this desolate rock with this horrible bunch of people.

Crippin shouted out the days orders. The training squad was going on a day long run. Jack felt his mood lighten at the thought. He would enjoy a day’s run, to get away from the confines of the training grounds and bunkhouse, to escape these people surrounding him by running free over the moons rough surface.

Sergeant Hacker tossed a ration bar onto Jack’s bunk with a grin. Crippin stepped over to Jack, hands behind her back.

“Not you recruit Forge,” Crippin said. “We know you can run. Can you clean?”

Hacker threw a small scrubbing brush onto Jack’s bunk.

“The entire bunkhouse is filthy, hayseed. Scrub it clean before we all catch a disease. Anyone gets ill you will answer for the crime of incapacitating an entire training squad. That is treason in a time of war. Do you get me?”

“Sir, yes, Sir.” Jack spat out the reply.

“Squad leader,” Crippin shouted. “Name a recruit to assist Forge,”

Jack looked over to Torent. Who did the thief hate the most? The thought flashed across Jack’s mind that Torent might choose himself and spend the day lazing around while Jack scrubbed the bunkhouse himself.

“Sir, recruit Harts, sir.”

Crippin looked to Harts standing next to his bunk. “Recruit Harts can’t run at all. Maybe it would be better to let you spend the day scrubbing than half the day being tazed for falling behind.”

Hacker threw a second scrubbing brush onto Harts’ bunk.

“Every square centimeter scrubbed and cleaned before we get back. Is that clear, hayseeds?”

Jack and Harts shouted their reply. Crippin turned before they had finished shouting and strode out of the bunkhouse calling out as she went, “Every one else, form up outside immediately. Last one there gets tazed.”

The cleaning fluids and buckets were brought into the bunkhouse by Hacker moments after the last recruit ran out through the double doors. He turned on his heal and went back out, presumably to administer a mild tazing to whoever had been last in formation. The sharp yelp of pain from outside confirmed that sergeant Hacker had delivered the first tazing of the day.

Picking up his scrubbing brush Harts looked over to Jack. “At least we won’t get tazed today.” He grinned.

“Don’t bet on it,” Jack said looking at the rough, worn down brush. “If this dump isn’t spotless, we’ll get a tazing.” Jack looked around the bunkhouse. It had seemed small but now it looked massive. “Let’s get started at the far end,” Jack said.

Jack and Harts knelt on the floor and scrubbed. Jack’s arms burned as he pressed the brush back and forth. He noticed Harts was barely scrubbing, just moving the brush over the floor.

“You think they could get a drone to do this,” Harts said.

“Sure they could,” Jack agreed, “but this is probably building character, or responsibility, something like that. Or maybe they haven’t got a drone available for cleaning. I wouldn’t be surprised if all functioning drones have been repurposed for combat operations.”

“So we get to be their slaves is it?”

Jack shushed Harts. “That’s seditious talk, recruit. They probably listen to everything. Watch what you say.”

Nodding agreement Harts scrubbed a small circle on the floor.

“Get cracking, Bill,” Jack said. “We get this done before the rest get back and we can have a break.”

Harts scrubbed harder and faster for a few moments. “What do you think of Torent?”

Jack scrubbed the floor harder. “He’s a thief alright. I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.”

“He doesn’t like you,” Harts said.

Looking over to Harts Jack saw his cleaning team mate snicker.

“You don’t say.” It was pretty clear to all that Jack and Torent were not friendly with each other.

“I know. But he was saying...” Harts trailed off.

“Saying what?” Jack stopped scrubbing. He didn’t really care what anyone said about him.

“Said he was going to make things tough for you,” Harts scrubbed harder. “Said he was going to make sure you don’t beat him.” Harts looked sideways toward Jack. “He said you were a failure, a stupid school kid who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

Jack felt the rage build inside him. “He said that?” Jack asked.

Harts scrubbed. “He was talking to his buddies, the ugly one and the fat one, all those guys.”

Jack scrubbed. If only he had been out on the run he would show Torent. He could out run Torent any day. He could out shoot Torent. He could out think Torent. Jack took a bite from his ration bar and felt the energy boost. He scrubbed the floor hard.

“I don’t think he’s any good,” Harts said. “No one really likes him. He’s not as good as you.”

Jack looked over at Harts. Harts gave an embarrassed smile and then turned back to his work.

“Don’t tell him I said anything,” Harts said meekly. “I’m ashamed to say I’m afraid of him. But you’re not, are you Jack?”

Jack scrubbed the floor. Torent was a rough guy from a different world. Jack had spent his life either running or in math class, both for fun. Torent had spent his life house breaking and picking pockets. Torent was rough and hard. He was afraid of Torent, but not so afraid to be intimidated by him. Jack had been alone in the world for long enough that he had learned to stand up for himself.

“No, I’m not afraid of him.” Jack scrubbed hard. “Let’s get this bunk house cleaned then take a long break.”

9

Jack turned over in his bunk as his sleep was shattered by another wakeup call and a rough introduction to another training day. Crippin shouted for the recruits to form up outside. Hacker tossed out ration bars. Jack tore off the wrapper and bit into the dark, sticky bar.

“Good work cleaning, recruit,” Crippin shouted as Jack ran by.

“Sir, thank you sir,” he replied through a mouthful of the ration bar.

“You want to take the duty again next time?”

“Sir, no thank you, sir.” Jack ran out of the double doors and out onto the ground outside.

Sergeant Hacker was standing on a large square of material that had been laid on the ground, weighted down in the corners heavy cones. The sergeant grinned at the recruits as they formed up in their neat rows.

Crippin was last out of the bunk house. She walked along the front of the assembled squad.

“A Marine must be able to get close to the enemy and destroy it, grab it by the nose and kick it in the ass. You hayseeds are not Marines yet, not by a long shot, but today we will get you a little bit closer.”

Hacker dropped what looked like a few brown bags on to the floor at his feet. Jack looked closely. Two sets of two bags. They had laces at the open end. They were padded. Jack realized they were not bags, they were gloves. Large, padded gloves.

“What the sergeant put on the floor are two sets of fighting mitts. You will come up in pairs and pull on those mitts. You then have two minutes to bash the blood, sweat and snot out of each other. The winners are those who don’t stop until the two minutes are up.”

Crippin walked along the line of recruits and picked the first two. They were standing next to each other and Jack recognized them as two of Torent’s crew, a skinny guy and an ugly guy.

The two pulled on their mitts and squared off against each other. Crippin shouted for them to begin.

The two danced about the square, moving in circles, occasionally moving in and throwing a wide swing. After about a minute of dancing, Crippin shouted out.

“Stop! Sergeant, if you please.”

Hacker pointed his tazer at the pair. They fell instantly into a quivering heap. Hacker pulled them off the square and began pulling the mitts off their hands.

“Next,” Crippin said. She pointed at a young dark-skinned girl and a fat guy who had spent most of his time on the training moon in tears.

The young girl was fast and she ran in throwing a barrage of punches at the head of the fat recruit. The crying recruit held his hands up to protect his head. The girl delivered a storm of short jabs to the flabby belly.

“Don’t just take it,” Crippin shouted. “Fight, hayseed.”

The crying recruit swung a wild fist and caught the dancing girl on the side of the head. She went sprawling over with the force. The crying recruit walked forward, a bubble of snot ballooned up on his nose as he breathed.

The fast girl was on her feet and flew back in to rain blows on the snot and tear soaked head of her opponent. She took another heavy blow on the right of her head and replied with a half dozen jabs to her opponent’s face. She took a heavy blow on the left from another wild swing. Her reply was a left and a right swing followed by a right jab and a left uppercut.

The fat recruit staggered backwards, his left swinging around in a badly aimed wild swing that caught his opponent on the head just above her right ear. Both hit the floor then began climbing to their feet.

The girl rushed in but was dizzy from the heavy blows. The fat recruit stepped toward her, fists raised on front of his tear stained cheeks.

“Time.” Crippin shouted. “Mitts off, recruits.” Crippin stood in between the two and took each by the wrist. “And the winner is,” Crippin said and then lifted a hand from both recruits.

The squad erupted in cheers as the two recruits shook hands and embraced, blood and snot dripping from their faces.

Crippin sent one pair after another while Jack waited his turn to fight. He had never been in a fist fight before and he knew he was going to be as afraid as the fat crying recruit had been. He hoped he didn’t run from the fight like some did only to be tazed.

The recruits who had already fought cheered the hardest for each new pair. Jack began to look through the recruits to see who he would prefer to fight. His eyes landed on Torent who was staring straight at him. Staring and grinning. There was no doubt in Jack’s mind who Torent wanted to fight. Jack looked forward to the current pair and saw a wild swing connect and knock the recipient unconscious.

“Sergeant Hacker, if you please,” Crippin said and Hacker dragged the unconscious recruit off the square as Crippin raised the hand of the winner.

The next pair were two of the biggest, heaviest brutes in the squad. They squared off against each other and waited for the signal to begin. Crippin shouted for them to start and they stepped up, both opening with a heavy swinging right. Both punches connected and landed heavily on the head. Both recruits took the blow and in almost perfect synchronization brought their left around in a wide arc. The blows landed and the pair continued with a swinging right. The blows landed. The next swing came a little more slowly but Jack could see one was coming in faster than the other. One recruit was creeping ahead in the blow for blow battle. Again a right swing. Again a left. And with every swing the one recruit crept ahead until he was ahead by a swing, delivering his right while the slower opponent was throwing his left.

Crippin shouted time and the two stopped, the slower fell to one knee, the quicker opponent saving him from falling to the floor with a steadying hand.

Crippin waited while the standing recruit helped his opponent off the ground. They stood, bloody, bruised and slightly wobbly, either side of Crippin. She raised both hands to cheers from the training squad.

“Torent. Forge. You’re next.”

Jack walked out in front of the squad. They were cheering and wild with excitement for every new round as they nursed their cuts. The square of cloth was slightly padded and had a strong non-skid surface. It was splattered with blood, snot, sweat, and tears but Jack could hold his footing easily. He bent down to take a pair of the fighting mitts. Torent reached down and took the pair before Jack could take them.

“Mine,” Torent said and nudged Jack with his shoulder.

Jack took the remaining pair. He hated that Torent had snatched the mitts from him. It wasn’t that there was any difference between the pair, it was just that Torent wanted to beat Jack at everything, and Jack hated that Torent was winning.

Pulling on the mitts Jack felt the sweat from the previous recruits. The interior was damp and warm. The mitts felt strange. He slammed them together to get a feel for their weight.

Looking over at Torent, Jack could see the squad leader was ready and eager to have his two minutes with him. Jack guessed a thuggish thief like Torent had probably had a fist fight every week of his nasty little life. Jack was scared of being hit but he was more scared of losing to Torent. He couldn’t let the thief beat him down.

Crippin gave to signal and Torent rushed at Jack. Jack staggered backwards in surprise. He heard the disapproval from the squad as Jack avoided the swings from Torent. Jack staggered back off the square onto the rough ground.

“Stop,” Crippin shouted. “Get back on the square, Forge. Go again. Two minutes.”

Torent was facing the squad his hands raised in the air to cheers of approval. He was claiming victory without even landing a blow. Jack stepped in to the center of the square. He needed to stand his ground.

Torent turned from his fans and rushed Jack again. Jack was ready this time and stuck out his fist, a straight arm pointing at the on rushing Torent. Torent swatted the arm out of the way and landed a blow on Jack’s face.

Jack shuddered under the blow. He twisted away from the next to come flying in. Torent was laughing. Jack caught a glimpse of Torent’s smirking face as he twisted away from another punch.

Jack realized that Torent was enjoying himself. He probably enjoyed beating people. Jack hated that Torent was enjoying this. Jack hated that he was being made to look ridiculous in front of the squad. Jack hated the fact that he had been dragged from his university studies to stand against a thug like Torent on this distant and desolate moon. Jack stood up, determined to land a blow, the heaviest he could muster right on Torent’s ugly, smirking face.

Jack was sent sprawling as a blow landed on the side of his head. He fell to the ground on all fours.

Torent was holding his hands up to the squad again. Jack saw Crippin look over to Hacker, he guessed she was about to order a tazer jolt. Torent turned and faced Jack with a grin.

Jack rushed at Torent. He saw the momentary look of surprise on Torent’s face. The thief had probably thought Jack was truly beaten. Jack took a blow to the head but it was poorly timed by Torent who was now on the back foot. Jack ran at Torent and shoulder charged him in the gut. Torent let out a groan and staggered backwards.

Jack wrapped his arms around Torent’s waist and powered forwards, driving with his legs, the powerful muscles trained by hours of running propelled him forwards. He lifted Torent off the ground and drove him down.

Jack landed on top of Torent. He looked down at the surprised and furious Torent. Jack brought his fist around and punched Torent hard on the side of the head.

Jack felt the punches land and jolt Torent’s head from side to side. He was about to land another when he felt himself being dragged up by the collar. Sergeant Hacker pulled Jack away. Jack looked at the gruff old sergeant who gave Jack the slightest wink of approval.

“Stand and fight,” Crippin shouted. “One minute more. Starting from now.”

The crowd shouted and cheered as Jack and Torent moved in toward each other. Jack saw Torent lead with his strong right swing. He ducked under it and delivered a sharp left to Torent’s ribs. Torent squirmed away and brought his right around again. Jack leaned back and Torent’s fighting mitt sailed across in front of Jack’s face narrowly missing his nose. Jack leaned in and sent a right jab at Torent’s ribs and followed it with a left. Jack couldn’t believe his luck as Torent was out of position and struggling to bring his left fist around and Jack was able to land another hard blow on Torent’s ribs.

Jack saw Torent had recovered his step and was swinging a wild left punch. He stepped inside the arc and landed a right jab on Torent’s face.

The punches to Torent’s ribs had given Jack the advantage in the fight but the blow to Torent’s smirking face was the most satisfying. Jack brought his fist up and landed a blow on Torent’s jaw. It was a weak punch, though, and he positioned his right to land another blow. And as he savored the thought of knocking Torent down he saw the head butt flying in.

Jack brought his mitts up and defended the head butt from Torent. Jack heard a distant call from Crippin for them to use mitts only.

Torent wrapped his left arm around Jacks neck and began punching with his right. Jack delivered a series of right hand jabs at Torent’s gut and a series of left hand jabs to the thief’s lower back. The rain of punches Jack was taking was starting to take its toll. His eye was bruised so badly it had gone numb. Jack hoped Torent would keep hitting him there as it didn’t hurt so much.

Jack landed a blow higher up on Torent’s gut and he felt the grip around his neck slacken off. Jack delivered another and another. He heard the satisfying sound of Torent wincing in pain. It was the only sound he wanted to hear and he struck again and made Torent let out the stifled cry of pain again. Maybe, Jack thought, he’d broken one of Torent’s jobs. The thought filled Jack will glee and enthusiasm and he hit there again hoping to cripple the nasty thief.

Then Jack was free from the grip. He stood up ready to finish Torent and then the world spun as a blow landed heavily on the side of his head. He staggered backwards, the view a swirling blur of dark ground, cheering squad, sergeant Hacker and a shouting Crippin.

Jack couldn’t hear what Crippin was shouting, he could only hear a ringing in his ears and a voice inside screaming for him to kill Torent, to punch so hard and often that the thief went down and never got up again. Jack staggered toward Torent.

Torent was nursing his ribs with his left and was raising his right for another punch. Jack went in, head down, fists up and rained a left right hook combo on Torent’s gut as Torent delivered a series of heavy punches to Jacks head.

Jack staggered backwards. He saw Crippin step in between him and Torent. Jack couldn’t understand why she would do that and stop Jack from killing Torent. Torent came around Crippin and swung a punch at Jack. Jack took the blow as he went in to deliver a salvo of his own.

Somewhere in the distance Jack heard the voice of Crippin as the ringing in his ears subsided.

“Time’s up. Stop fighting.”

Jack saw the murder in Torent’s eyes and he felt the rage boiling up inside himself. They stepped together ready to kill or be killed but neither was going to back down and stop the fight.

The decision, Jack discovered suddenly was not his or Torent’s to make. He heard the crackle of Hacker’s tazer and then the world went black.

Jack woke up on his bunk. Foul smelling sticky salve pasted over his cuts. Torent was propped up on his bunk opposite, his face spotted with salve, he had a heavy bandage around his torso and a brash grin on his face.

The two glowered at each other. Jack had given Torent a beating, but he’d taken one himself too. Jack wasn’t sure either of them had won their fight. He was sure he wasn’t going to beaten by Torent.

10

Standing on the parade ground in the cold morning, Jack felt fresh and ready for another chance to beat Torent. There was a buzz of excitement running silently through the squad as the recruits looked at and tried to guess what was in the large crates that they found waiting for them. Crippin and Hacker seemed nervous. Everyone was quiet until Crippin finally spoke up.

“Listen up, hayseeds.” Crippin was standing in front of the stack of crates all branded with the Fleet Marine seal. “Today, the Fleet is letting you have a go at being proper Marines. Although you don’t look ready for it. Today, you get to meet your last best friend. Today you will learn all the systems of the Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle. You will practice long range sighting and firing. Close quarters direct fire and Electron Bayonet training. The Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle will be your primary weapon. This is your responsibility. This is the means by which the Fleet Marines will defeat the Chitin scum.”

Crippin paced in front of the squad. She fixed each recruit with a stare, as if assessing their readiness for the task of carrying the rifle that would be with them every day from this day until their last day as a Marine.

“You will look after this rifle and it will look after you. You will carry this rifle forward to the Chitin scum and the rifle will carry you through. And if anyone is seen mistreating this fine piece of equipment, they will discover that Sergeant Hacker and his tazer is a most gentle treatment. Mistreating this equipment is seen as an act of treason in a time of war. The penalties are severe. Squad Leader, bring your squad forward to receive their rifles.”

Hacker began handing out the rifles to the squad in a solemn procedure. So far, Marine training had been a series of grown up playground exercises, including a glorified playground brawl. This was a much more serious business.

Jack took his rifle in his hands. He looked at the dark machine. The Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle was a sophisticated piece of equipment designed to do one job: to kill Chitins. Jack suspected from the look of the weapon that it did its job well. Crippin ordered the recruits to follow her and the squad set off at a run toward the training ground.

The rifle was cold and light. Jack turned it over in his hands as he ran. It was clean and new. Every item of equipment Jack had seen on the entire training moon from Lieutenant Crippin’s buggy to his bunk blanket was tattered and broken. But this rifle, the Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle, was new and in excellent condition.

Jack had heard so often during his semesters at university that the best of everything was reserved for the military. The university was a rundown, once grand building. The entire population of Eros struggled with an austerity that few could endure with good humor. The store shelves were bare of luxuries. Food was scarce and families planted every patch of ground they could to supplement their rations. The war against the Chitins was consuming the best of everything. And now, here in Jack’s hands, was the evidence. The military had the best of everything and they were starting to give it to him.

Jack ran the now familiar course, but this was the first time he ran it with the pulse rifle in his hands. He ran along the well-trodden paths between the low hills. Crawling under the wire through the sharp rocks with the rifle held in front of him Jack felt the power the weapon gave him. As the automatic fire from the gun batteries to the side of the barbed wire fired their bursts of live ammunition. Jack barely flinched. Clearing the wire Jack climbed to his feet and advanced along the narrow path with the rifle aimed forward.

Arriving at the wall, Jack instinctively slung the Pulse rifle over his shoulder. The strap tightened and held it in place against his back. Leaping up the wall and scrambling to the top Jack saw he was ahead of the rest of the training squad, but he was not running this course today as an individual, he was running as a military fighting unit with his pulse rifle. Jack knew he and his pulse rifle would be more effective if he advanced with his squad, though, so Jack sat atop the wall and called out encouragement to the rest of the squad.

The dark-skinned girl who was almost as fast as Jack came toward the wall. Reaching down to her Jack called for her to jump.

The girl slung her rifle and grabbed Jack’s forearm. She climbed to the top and sat facing Jack.

“You’re pretty quick,” the girl said. “I thought you’d be leaving us all behind.”

“Maybe we need to start thinking as a team,” Jack said. “You’re Osho, right?”

The girl nodded and smiled.

“You helped Torent stop me when we first ran the course,” Jack said accusingly.

Osho grinned. “Yeah,” she said. “Sorry about that. I came in first because of that. I couldn’t have beaten you otherwise.” Osho spoke with a sly twinkle in her eye.

“Here come the others,” Jack said as he noticed the next group of recruits approaching the wall.

“Sling your rifles over your shoulders,” Osho shouted.

“Grab hold,” Jack said, reaching down to the first recruit. It was Torent. Jack looked at him with a grimace. Torent grabbed Jacks arm and climbed the wall. He cleared it in a moment and was over the other side.

“Come on,” Osho shouted as she helped a recruit up and reached down to assist another.

Jack reached and assisted as one recruit after another cleared the wall. With the last of the training squad clear Jack looked to leap down. He caught a glimpse of Crippin and Hacker and the approving look they gave him.

Jack lowered himself toward the ground and dropped. He set off at a fast run. He was behind but he knew he would catch up in moments. Up ahead Jack heard an unfamiliar fizzing crackle. It grew louder as he ran on. Turning a bend in the training ground maze Jack came upon the shooting range. The recruits were opening up with their pulse rifles, shooting at distant targets. Their rifles gave off the crackling sound that Jack knew he would come to know well.

“Fire on your targets,” Crippin shouted. “This is the one kilometer range. A stone’s throw. The Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle is accurate to a distance of five kilometers in a vacuum. Don’t miss, hayseeds!”

Jack sighted the target through his rifle mounted scope. He breathed easy and fired a single round at the distant target. The bull vanished as the round struck almost instantaneously. Jack looked at the rifle, impressed.

“Don’t stand there staring, hayseed,” Crippin shouted in Jack’s ear. “Run!”

Jack ran and behind him he heard Crippin shouting insults and expletives at the recruits who had missed their target. “We haven’t got bullets to waste, hayseed! We need every round if we are going to kill all the Chitin scum!”

Jack ran on. He reached the front of the pack and jogged alongside them, through the well-worn narrow paths of the training ground to the next training station.

Hacker was waiting at the next station. A series of cylinders made from rough black composite were hanging from a frame. They hung four across and four deep. Hacker stepped up in front of the recruits, a pulse rifle in his hand in place of the tazer. He held the pulse rifle sideways for all to see. He indicated a button and pressed it.

A white beam burst from the muzzle end. A fine brilliant beam of light half a meter in length that looked solid and deadly. It fizzed in the air. Hacker indicated the button again and deactivated the bayonet. He demonstrated the electron bayonet activation once more and motioned for the recruits to charge and attack the hanging composite cylinders.

Jack fired up the bayonet. The power of the bayonet was as impressive as the powerful firing ability but the bayonet had an extra fearsome quality. The bullet did its damage as much as five kilometers away. The bayonet was very much up close and personal.

Jack charged the first cylinder. He jabbed and slashed. The bayonet pierced the rough composite easily, sliding effortlessly through again and again. The recruits to either side of him were delicately manipulating the deadly device.

Jack watched as the recruit to his left stabbed at the cylinder before him. The recruit overstretched himself and lost his balance. His toe caught a loose rock and in his unbalanced position it was enough to send him sprawling forward. He fumbled his pulse rifle as he fell. Jack saw the weapon turn, butt down, muzzle up.

Jack’s warning shout was still in his throat when the recruit fell headlong into the up-pointing electron bayonet. The sound of the beam slicing through flesh and bone was one Jack immediately tried to bar from his mind. There were no cries from the recruit, the blade sliced clean through his skull, shoulders and torso. The body fell in two. Jack fell to his knees and looked helplessly.

The hard blasts on the whistle from Sergeant Hacker sounded distant. Jack deactivated his bayonet. Training for war was as dangerous as war itself, Jack thought, maybe even more so because the recruits hadn’t had time to get to know their weapons. Jack knew all he needed to know about his pulse rifle. It was deadly and it had no respect for the careless.

11

If Jack had thought Fleet Marine training stopped following the accidental death of a recruit he was robbed of this thought by the early morning shouting of Crippin. She kicked them from their beds as Hacker flung rations bars on each bunk. They ran them out of the bunkhouse with shouts and a threatening buzz from Hackers tazer.

Their countenance seemed harder today. Jack didn’t know how many recruits they had lost during training, but he knew that two had fallen since he had been here. He hoped there wouldn’t be any more. He hoped he wouldn’t be next.

“You hayseeds are going to fight like proper soldiers,” Crippin said. “Today, you are going to meet and kill Chitin scum. And here is your first.” Crippin pointed behind the assembled recruits. They all turned and looked.

The first thing Jack saw was the teeth. The long head of the Chitin was extended forward, the round mouth ringed with pointed teeth lunged forward at the assembled recruits. The gasps and cries of horror and surprise rippled around the recruits. Jack felt himself tingle with panic. The writhing tentacle-like limbs thrashed the floor and propelled the creature forward. Jack tripped and fell backwards. He scurried away, staring up at the teeth dripping saliva and slime. The antenna-like structures all around the smooth head twitched and whipped around, feeling and tasting the air.

“That’s enough, Filth,” Crippin said calmly. She walked through the recruits toward the massive Chitin. She held out her hand toward the creature. The Chitin fell silent.

“Easy, Filth,” Crippin said and touched the smooth head. She turned to the recruits.

Sergeant Hacker was dragging recruits to their feet and shoving them back into line.

“This is Filth. This is the first Chitin scum you have ever seen. If you work hard on your training then the next one you see won’t be the one to kill you. This is a flesh drone built to look and behave like a Chitin, except this one won’t rip your intestines out through your back, not unless I tell it to. Down there…” Crippin pointed to the training ground, its paths and hills, “…is a squad of Chitin scum. You will go down there and kill every last one. Take them down, Sergeant Hacker.”

Sergeant Hacker ran the recruits down into the training course. He kept the squad in a loose formation with Torent running at the front alongside him. Jack jogged along at the back of the formation, looking down at the obstacle course below. He spotted movement in the paths between the many small hills. Dark shapes keeping just out of sight.

Once down on the plain at the edge of the training ground, the view was confined to only a few meters in front as the hills blocked the line of sight. Within the labyrinth of paths were the Chitin flesh drones.

Sergeant Hacker went through the recruits and pushed them into two groups, one for Torent to lead and one for Hacker. The sergeant stepped up to Jack and looked down at him with a twinkle in his eye. Jack felt like the big, silent sergeant was friendly toward him, which seemed strange after the tazing he’d given him. Hacker grabbed Jack and with a smile, and pushed him toward Torent.

* * *

The sounds of rifle fire soon filled the training ground. Jack spotted his first active Chitin flesh drone and opened fire. The rounds ripped away chunks of flesh, but failed to drop it.

Torent was facing another direction when he opened fire. The sound of the rifle next to Jack’s ear was frightening. Turning to see what Torent was firing at, he saw a Chitin flesh drone take a hit and scurry off.

Jack stood next to Torent. “We need to concentrate our fire,” Jack said.

Torent wiped sweat from his forehead. “No,” he said. “We need to draw them out into the open. Take two of the squad and flank left. Draw them to you and we will take them out.”

“We shouldn’t split our force, Torent,” Jack whispered, looking out for the Chitins that lurked just out of sight.

Torent grabbed Jack’s shoulder and shoved him hard. “Don’t refuse my order, Forge,” Torent shouted.

Jack spotted the sudden movement of a shadow falling over the path ahead. He brought his rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the edge of the hill. “Here they come,” he shouted as the first Chitin came on.

Jack fired a burst into the first Chitin. The slime spurted out from the holes the pulse rounds tore through the rubbery flesh. The Chitin fell to one side, the tentacles thrashing on the ground, but it kept coming in a lurching, scuttling pace. A second Chitin appeared and scurried over the wounded one.

“Open fire,” Jack called. He knelt, aimed, and fired another burst into the second Chitin. And then came a third and a fourth.

Torent stood next to Jack and fired. “Take them down. Open fire.”

The rush of Chitins overcame the fire laid down by Jack, Torent, and the recruits. They were quickly overrun, disarmed by the flailing tentacles, and carried away by the Chitin drones.

* * *

The recruits were taken away by the Chitin flesh drones and dropped into a pit. A sign was staked out at the edge of the pit that read, ‘Killed by Chitin scum. Welcome to hell.’

“You should have flanked right when I told you to,” Torent said bitterly.

“You shouldn’t have shouted out. You brought them all down on us. Now the other squad is going to win the exercise.”

A hill with the Chitin flag was taken down, signaling that the other squad had, indeed, beaten the Chitins and won the day.

“Should have flanked right,” Torent mumbled.

* * *

The squad stood in line. Before them stood Jack and Torent. Lieutenant Crippin paced in front of them.

“Forge,” she said. “Your squad leader tells me you disobeyed an order.”

“Sir, it was a bad order, sir.”

“All orders are bad, hayseed. You follow them all the same. Maybe you think you should be squad leader.”

“Sir,” Jack shouted, “no, sir.”

“And why not?” Crippin paced behind the pair.

“Don’t want to be in the military at all, sir.”

Crippin stopped behind Jack. She leaned close to his ear. “Yet you are countermanding a squad leader’s orders and suggesting your own strategy. Don’t split the force, did you say?”

“Sir, yes, sir. I wanted to win the game.”

“This is not a game, hayseed. You get me?”

“Sir, no, sir. It is a game. We were fighting drones. These are not real Chitins.”

“No, they are not. Do you want me to throw you into action against Chitin scum without practice?”

“Sir, no, sir,” Jack shouted. His brother had been killed by the Chitins and no one had more reason to hate them than Jack. But Jack wanted to study, not fight.

“And why not?” Crippin resumed her pacing.

“I don’t want to fight Chitins at all, sir.”

“Coward, are you?”

“Sir, no, sir. I don’t think we should be fighting them at all, sir. We came to this system. We colonized Eros and Ares, we took all the moons and then we started pumping H2 out of their home planet’s atmosphere. We attacked them. They are only defending themselves, sir.”

“Sergeant Hacker,” Crippin shouted. “Take this traitor to the punishment ground.”

Hacker grabbed Jack by the collar and hauled him off the ground. Jack’s feet barely touched the ground as he was dragged away.

The punishment ground was a small patch of beaten earth at the rear of the squad bunkhouse. A post was planted in the ground and stood four meters tall. Straps hung from the top with loops at the end. Hacker pushed Jack’s face into the post and pulled the loops over Jack’s hands. The straps were pulled tight and lifted Jack up onto his toes.

“Recruit Forge is guilty of insurrection.” Crippin stood in front of the assembled recruits. “We are fighting for our lives. We cannot tolerate traitorous rhetoric from any of you. Forge will receive three lashes. From each recruit. Squad, line up.”

The first lash stung like a hornet and snatched his breath away. The second stung like a swarm. After the third lash, Jack gasped for air before he screamed in pain.

The beating was fierce and Jack slipped out of consciousness. He was jolted back to life by a mild sting from Hacker’s tazer, a low yield shock designed to revive rather than stun. Finally, Torent himself stepped forward and delivered three of the heaviest lashes. Jack yelled in pain. He felt the straps slacken and heard Crippin call out for Torent to assist Jack.

Jack fell to the ground. He heard Crippin call out to Hacker as she walked closer. “Sergeant Hacker. Administer the final lashes.”

Jack fell to the ground and looked up, pleading for mercy, but then he saw Hacker grab Torent and fasten him against the post. A short whip was in Hacker’s hands. He quickly delivered three sharp lashes. Torent yelled out at each one and cried out, asking why.

“You ask why?” Crippin said to Torent as he crumpled to the ground. “Because you refused to listen to good advice when it was given and brought the whole pack of Chitin scum down on your group with your shouting. That’s why. A good squad leader listens to his squad.”

12

Jack woke in his bunk, his cuts from the flogging covered in sticky ointment that stuck to the rough bed sheets. It peeled away with a scratchy, scraping pain as he sat up. It was the start of a day of rest and recuperation for the squad. Hacker had delivered a stack of ration bars. Crippin had delivered the news that they were free for one day.

Torent stood at the side of Jack’s bed and pushed him back down. A group of Torent’s allies stood around.

“You are trouble, Forge,” Torent said.

“Give him another thrashing?” one of Torent’s gang said.

Torent stared at Jack with murder in his eye. “No,” Torent conceded reluctantly. “Give him a chance to recover. I need my squad fit if we are going to beat those Chitin scum tomorrow.”

“But he don’t want to kill no Chits,” the ally said. “He’s a coward.”

“He’s a good shot,” Torent said. “He can help us win.”

“If he decides to fight.”

“He will,” Torent said, pushing his fist against Jack’s shoulder and pressing him down to the rough bunk. “He will or I will snap his kraving fingers off.”

* * *

The bunkhouse was rowdy that day. The recruits invented games and blew off steam, filling the bunkhouse with raucous noise. While they played, Jack carefully pulled his recruit uniform on over his lacerated skin and left the house to wander around the complex.

Crossing the parade ground, Jack walked to the hill, climbed to the summit, and looked around the entire camp for the first time. The training ground below was empty and still. The complex of buildings around the bunkhouse included the small buildings that served as Crippin’s residence. The last building in the complex was covered in antenna and was most likely a communication office.

Jack spotted one other building set away from the training ground and the complex. It was not far off. Jack could have made it in a few minutes at full sprint if he had been fit, but in his worn and battered condition, he knew it would be a long yet manageable walk.

The training moon was barren in every direction. In the hour it took Jack to wander over to the building, the terrain didn’t change at all. It was all rocks and dust, the same dark, barren rock. No life except for the recruits, Crippin, Hacker, and whatever other vermin the transport craft had brought to the small moon.

The building was rundown like everything else Jack had seen, apart from the brand-new pulse rifle he’d been fighting with the day before. The walls of the building were the same composite that the military spacecraft were made of but it was pitted and cracked. Jack rubbed his hand over it and its surface flaked off and crumbled away to dust.

Walking around the perimeter, Jack came across a window, a transparent section of the same composite material. It was also cracked and flaked away at his the touch. Inside, Jack saw a series of workbenches. There were dust covers thrown over some hidden piles of what looked like machinery.

This had been a maintenance shed, or maybe a mechanic training shop once. Now it was a forgotten casualty of a war that had cost mankind everything except their tenuous existence. Jack moved around the building, looking for a way in.

The door was shut but unlocked. Whoever had mothballed and closed this facility had not expected anyone to come and interfere with it. Jack slid the door open.

The air inside was musty. It was also dark. Shards of light cutting through the dust that swirled about, kicked up by Jack’s boots.

Throwing aside one of the covers, Jack found a black military drone. He recognized the model from his brother’s virtual reality games. It was a weaponized reconnaissance drone used to scout ahead of the main force. Its hull was cracked and covered in dust. Similar drones had been used by university campus security and by local police forces, before they had all been requisitioned to assist in the fight against the Chitins.

Jack walked around the drone to the service hatch. He pressed and clawed at it. He knew this model of drone and it would be a moment of escape from his brutal military training to investigate the machine. The panel popped open.

The biomech circuitry was putrid. It spewed out over the side of the hull and onto the toes of Jack’s boots. It stank of rotten meat and sour milk.

Backing away from the drone and the stink, Jack threw aside more of the dust covers, looking for any abandoned equipment. There were several small surveillance drones, a supply delivery drone, and parts for the weaponized reconnaissance drone. Jack picked through the parts for anything usable. He realized that it was the remains of at least two other reconnaissance drones that had been stripped for parts. He found a section of hull that showed signs of energy weapon damage. The composite hull was blistered around the entry wound and the edge was bubbled to a brittle foam. It looked like the work of a Chitin plasma spear.

Jack found a collection of power cells for the drones. All were spent, but at least one was clean. Jack cracked open the seal and took a sniff. It was healthy, even though it was unpowered. Jack dug around and found some cleaning equipment and set about cleaning the putrid biomech circuitry of the military drone.

Sitting in the dust and debris of the workshop, Jack lost himself in the work. He cleaned and primed the reconnaissance drone. He studied his work in the failing light. It looked good. He’d found the parts he needed. He really wanted to check his work. All he needed was a power supply, and he knew where he could find one.

The door to the workshop slid open. The rattling noise and scrapping surprised Jack. He turned and jumped to his feet.

“Lieutenant Crippin, sir,” Jack said. He stood at attention. He was going to get tazed for this, at the very least.

“I guessed it would be you out here. Stand at ease, recruit.” Crippin looked around the workshop. “I had to flog you,” she said, walking around the cleaned and repaired drone. “You were right, of course. We attacked them first, but I can’t have you saying that stuff in front of everyone.” Crippin opened the service hatch on the drone and looked inside. “We used to be so sophisticated. We’ve thrown everything at these Chits. We’ve lost mech and manpower. We are falling back all the time. They are just too difficult to hit and they find it too easy to hit us. We lost the Destroyer Libra today.”

Crippin walked toward the door. She hesitated. “My last group of recruits was on that ship. Go to bed, Forge. Busy day tomorrow.”

13

The bunkhouse was bustling when Jack entered. Bill, sitting alone, stood up and walked to Jack’s side.

“You’ve been away all day. Where’d you go?”

“Just out.”

“You missed rations. Hacker brought them in and threw them to our bunks. Torent took yours.”

Jack looked over to Torent. One of his cronies was smearing lotion over his back where he’d taken his lashes. Torent spotted Jack and pushed away from his cronies.

He walked over to Jack, shirtless. There were gang tattoos on his chest and arms, old knife wounds, and one large scar across his stomach. He squared up to Jack.

“You been absent, Forge.”

“I had free time.”

“I want you to let me know if you are going to disappear again. You get me?” Torent turned his head, pointing his ear toward Jack.

“Okay.”

“Answer correctly, Forge.”

“Screw you, Torent. You’re not an officer.”

“I will be, so you’d better get used to treating me like it.” Torent held out his hand and one of his groupies produced a ration block.

“I need my squad at full strength. Eat.” He pressed the silver block into Jack’s hands, then slung an arm over Jack’s shoulder and walked along the bunkhouse. Jack spotted Bill attempting to follow but being held back by Torent’s cronies. “I can read people, Forge. Read you right, didn’t I? Annoying, and smart. And I can read him too.” Torent jabbed a thumb back toward Bill. “Watch out for him. He’s real trouble.” Torent pushed Jack onto his bunk. “Now eat and rest. I want you ready for action tomorrow.”

The siren’s wail surprised Jack and Torent as it pierced the noise of the bunkhouse. Torent looked around, trying to understand what it meant. Then the first explosion shook the bunkhouse.

Jack crouched down as dust fell from the roof. Recruits were screaming, many cowering under their bunks. A second explosion shook the ground.

Torent stood alone in the middle of the bunkhouse. “On your feet,” he shouted. Torent walked along the middle of the bunkhouse shouting. “On your feet. Get your jackets buttoned and your rifles loaded.”

The doors burst open and Sergeant Hacker charged in. He went to the far end of the bunkhouse and began waving both his arms wildly, waving the recruits out the door.

Crippin was crouched on one knee on the parade ground. She was fastening on a jacket with pouches for ammunition clips. Her rifle was propped up against her. She waved the recruits over.

“Take a knee and listen up. This is not a drill. A Chitin craft has been detected approaching the training moon. We’ve already lost contact with Training Base Delta. We are going to defend ourselves. The Destroyer Scorpio is on route with a battalion of Fleet Marines on board. Until then, we’re on our own. We must fight or die. Do you get me?”

Sergeant Hacker dragged a trolley with ammunition packs out into the parade ground.

“Remember when these were just a bunch of hayseeds, Sergeant?”

Hacker began handing out ammunition.

“They grow up so fast.” Crippin primed her rifle and tested the sights.

An explosion in the distance lit up the sky. “We will take a defensive position on the hill. Follow me.”

Crippin set off toward the hill. She moved fast and stayed low. The recruits followed. Jack checked that his rifle was ready for action. He was certain this was some training exercise. Some around him also seemed unconvinced, while others were terrified. Another explosion in the distance set up a ripple of noise that spread through the recruits.

“Quiet,” Crippin called in a harsh whisper. “Squad Leader, keep your squad quiet.”

Crippin moved quickly and Hacker brought up the rear, urging the stragglers on. Jack kept up with Crippin, Torent not far behind. They reached the summit of the hill and had a wide view of the surrounding ground. A fire was burning just over the horizon beyond the training ground of small hills and pathways.

“We could take cover in the training ground,” Torent suggested.

“We’ll be separated by the hills. We won’t be able to fire as a unit. It’ll reduce our fire concentration and we’ll be too easy to break up,” Jack said.

“Forge is right, Squad Leader,” Crippin said. “We will set up a firing line here and hold them off until the Scorpio’s battalion arrives.”

“Where are they?” Torent asked.

Jack looked down his sights and scanned the horizon.

“Delta Training Base is twenty-five kilometers in that direction.” Crippin pointed to the horizon beyond the training ground, toward the fire that lit up the sky. “If they come for us, we will see them from up here.”

The last of the recruits came to the top of the hill. Sergeant Hacker dropped next to Crippin and scanned the skyline through his rifle sights. He nudged Crippin and pointed to the far horizon.

Jack looked and saw a sudden flash. A faint line arched into the sky and came slowly toward the hill. Jack looked through his sights and saw a Chitin flying through the air, a jetpack flaring and creating the faint streak.

“Reconnaissance soldier,” Crippin said. “Forge. Shoot that scum out of my sky.”

Jack aimed at the small flash of the jetpack. He breathed easy and fired a single shot. The arching soldier tumbled in midair, tentacles flailing. The jetpack flared again and brought the Chitin soldier even closer.

“Kill it, now,” Crippin shouted.

Jack got up on one knee and took aim again. Torent copied the stance. The two began firing. Jack saw the Chitin coming closer, and that round after round were slamming home, tearing chunks out of it. A tentacle fell away, ripped off by multiple hits, and then the jetpack exploded.

The explosion lit up the sky and the ground in a brilliant white light. The ground in the distance seemed to seethe and writhe. It looked alive.

Jack spotted the look in Crippin’s eye as she looked at Hacker. Jack knew it was not good. Crippin and Hacker both took all their extra ammunition packs from their pockets and placed them on the ground before them.

“A line,” Crippin shouted and pointed along the summit of the hill. “Pick your targets. Hold your fire.”

The sounds of fear rippled through the squad. Then the first recruit ran.

It was a young woman, short hair and long eyelashes. She ran back in the direction of the bunkhouse. Hacker was on his feet.

“Leave her,” Crippin said. “I am going to need you here, Sergeant, more than I’ll need her.” Crippin crawled to the front of the line. “Listen up, squad. If you run, you will die. If we run, we will get picked off one by one. If we stay together, we have a chance. Pick your targets. Hold your fire. Wait for my command. We are going to kill a whole bunch of Chitin scum. They are coming fast, and they’ll be here soon. But they don’t know what we’ve got waiting for them. We’re going to shred them all. You get me?”

Another recruit began to scurry away. It was Torent’s ugly ally. Torent was on him in a flash. He grabbed him and dragged him down in between him and Jack. The smell of urine was apparent. Jack watched the Chitin advance and made a promise not to piss himself.

“Get ready, Marines,” Crippin shouted. “Here they come. Open fire!”

14

The crackle of rifle fire rippled across the summit of the hill. Jack saw through his sights that the rounds were hitting the Chitins as they rushed forward. They came on in a tightly packed bunch and it was almost impossible to miss, but the damage inflicted was low. Jack picked his target and aimed for the round mouthpiece of the Chitin soldiers. He saw the teeth splinter and get shot out of the mouths of all his targets, but still they came on. Jack targeted the smooth head and fired several rounds into another Chitin soldier. The bullets smashed into the head, throwing up spurts of thin orange liquid.

“Keep firing,” Crippin shouted.

Jack saw the front of the advancing mass of soldiers pause. A strange hum began and then Jack saw the pulsing plasma growing on the tips of the weapons the Chitin soldiers held. The hum grew to a high-pitched whine, then the plasma spears shot forward.

Jack was mesmerized by the lights that flickered toward him. The orange and white threads of plasma arced upward before flicking forward. The plasma spears lashed at the summit of the hill, exploding the rock in front of Jack in a burst of red-hot dust. The recruit next to Jack was lacerated and split in two from his left shoulder to hip. The blood that spilled out boiled. The smell of charred flesh filled Jack’s nostrils.

A recruit along the line shrieked in terror. He dropped his rifle as he stood and turned to run. He was caught by the tip of a plasma spear. The tip lost its focus and frayed into a number of finer, dimmer plasma threads. The frayed ends scraped across the screaming recruit, ripping away clothes and skin. Then the recruit fell forward toward the plasma spear and was sliced in two.

“Keep firing,” Crippin shouted.

Jack fired a number of shots into the head of his target. The Chitin thrashed about and fell and then scurried away under the tentacles of another who came forward to take its place. Jack fired another short burst, smashing into the smooth head and toothed mouth of this new front-line Chitin.

Then the plasma spears leaped forward again.

The light on the opposite horizon grabbed Jack’s attention. He saw fire leaping into the sky.

“Alpha Training Base,” Crippin said. “We’re surrounded.”

“We need to get mobile, sir,” Jack said to Crippin. “If we get surrounded, we are done for.”

“But we’ve got the high ground,” Torent said.

“All that means is we’ll die on a hill,” Jack said.

“Jack’s right,” Crippin agreed. “We need to move. We have to avoid getting surrounded, hill or no hill. But we have no way of knowing where they are.”

“Air reconnaissance,” Jack said. “We can spot them from the air.”

“We don’t have air power, Forge. Scorpio is still too far out.”

“Not the Scorpio, sir.” Jack pointed toward the workshop down the hill. “If I can get that drone airborne...”

“Nice idea, Forge, but there are no power cells,”

Jack held his rifle side on. “Here, I can use the power cell in this rifle.”

Sergeant Hacker looked at Jack and then at Crippin. They both shrugged.

“What harm can it do to try? Go, Forge, and take Torent with you.” Crippin fired off a quick burst. “And if you can drop any ordinance on that Chitin scum, that would be a plus. Go. Now.”

Jack scurried back from the summit as another spread of plasma spears scorched the summit.

Jack ran and dismantled his rifle as he went.

“What are you doing with that rifle, Forge?” Torent called as they ran.

“The Fleet Marine Pulse Rifle is powered by a micro fusion reactor. It should have enough power to get that old reconnaissance drone off the ground.” Jack threw the parts of the rifle away and found the power cell.

Jack and Torent ran into the workshop. Torent moved around the building, rifle raised, as he searched the area.

“Clear,” he shouted.

Jack rushed to the front of the old drone and searched out the access panel for the power cell.

“It doesn’t fit.”

“Wedge it in, Jack. We have got to get them off that hill.”

“I can’t just wedge it in. I need to fix it in somehow.” Jack picked his way through the debris of the workshop. He found an old solder iron. “This could work. But I need some soft metal to fuse the cell to the craft.”

“So find some,” Torent said. He walked quickly to the door and looked through it down his gun sights. “Get it working, Jack.”

“I’ve already been through every piece of junk in this place. There’s nothing I can use.”

Torent walked up to Jack and grabbed him by the shoulder. “You’re supposed to be the smart one, right? Don’t suppose Chitins care whose brains they melt but I’d rather they didn’t melt mine, so use your brains and fix the damn power cell in there and I’ll keep watch.”

“Watch,” Jack said, his voice failing.

“Yes, I’ll keep watch.” Torent scanned the view outside the workshop.

Jack picked out his small package from his pocket and unwrapped his family silver watch. “My watch.”

“Whatever you are going to do, do it fast. Chitins at twelve o’clock.”

Jack snapped the back off. He popped out the mechanism, with its creamy face and fine hands. The solder iron was hot in a second. Jack held the power cell in place and carefully melted the silver case of his family watch.

* * *

The sound of Torent’s rifle fire startled Jack. The Chits were close. Jack activated the power supply and the craft lurched upward.

“They’re coming,” Torent said. “Send that thing.”

“I need a way to pilot it,” Jack said. It was a remote reconnaissance drone and needed some human input. A spare user headset was found in one of the broken pieces of equipment. It took a moment to calibrate the headset to the drone.

“This should do it,” Jack said.

“So do it.” Torent laid down a sustained fire.

“It’s dangerous. I haven’t got a neural processor. I need to buffer the information. I might get overloaded.”

“You’ll be dead for sure if you don’t try something.” Torent closed the door and stepped back into the workshop, taking cover behind a workbench.

Jack put the headset on.

A mass of information flooded Jack’s mind. There was reconnaissance information and the drone had at one point been linked to the training moon’s many surveillance systems. All the information that had ever been collected on the moon flooded into Jack’s mind.

It was an impossible mix of information. Jack watched recruits arriving on transport vessels, coming in as raw hayseeds and leaving as newly qualified Marines. The training time had been longer in the past. Recruits were coming in smaller numbers and being shipped out after shorter and shorter training programs.

Jack saw his brother. He had trained here too. And there was Crippin, shouting into his face.

Jack was suddenly present in Crippin’s office. A fleet captain was visiting. Crippin was being told that the Chitins were powerful. Humans were being pushed back. Destroyers were being lost at an unsustainable rate. A carrier had been destroyed. The war was being lost.

Jack saw himself arrive at the moon training base. He looked sad. He looked alone.

Then Jack saw his watch through the bunkhouse surveillance. It was being taken from the hiding place in his bunk and was being placed in Torent’s bunk. The data showed Jack who had moved the watch: it was Bill Harts. Bill had hidden his watch in Torent’s bunk. Jack saw the dispute between Torent and himself over the watch and there was Bill Harts, sitting back on his bunk and enjoying the show.

“Jack!” Torent shouted. “Jack. Wake up or I’ll put a round through your messed-up brain.”

“I have control,” Jack said. He wiped away the trickle of blood that dribbled out of his nose.

The drone leapt up and smashed through the roof. The targeting display picked out the advancing Chitins. Jack accessed the fire controls. The drone was minimally armed but it should be enough to destroy the few Chits outside. The drone’s cannons purred and the Chitin’s bodies burst as the incendiary rounds burned them from the inside out.

Then Jack was flying, skimming the craft centimeters above the rocky surface. He was at the hill in a moment. Jack saw the line of recruits still firing down the other side. Jack skirted around the hill and came up on a position flanking the line of Chitin soldiers advancing on the hill.

The canons purred again and scorched the front line of the Chitins.

The plasma whips flashed toward the drone. Without a neural processor, Jack could not handle all the information. He was slow. A plasma lance sliced through the port side of the drone. Jack pulled away, firing a hail of bullets from the small store of kinetic rounds. They tore through the Chitins as he retreated.

The signal was received by the communications office and routed through the drone to Jack. It was from the Destroyer Scorpio.

“Attention all personnel. Evac from Beta Training Base parade ground in five minutes.”

“We need to get to the hill,” Jack said to Torent. His speech seemed slow and slurred. “Evac inbound. We need to tell them. We only have a few minutes.”

“We can’t get there in that time.”

Then the drone crashed back in through the hole in the roof.

“Climb on,” Jack said. “And hold tight.”

The drone arrived at the hill. Crippin was walking behind the line of recruits, who were all in the dirt laying down a well-ordered and disciplined fire.

“That’s it. You’ve got them dug in now. They don’t want this hill as badly as they first thought.”

Torent dived into the dirt amongst the recruits and opened fire. Jack gave Crippin the news.

“Evac?” she said. “Thought I would serve out my time on this hill.” She patted Jack on the shoulder. “Good work, Forge. Scout the route back to the parade ground. Make sure there are no Chits waiting for us, then secure the landing area.” As Jack ran off down the hill, he heard Crippin shouting orders. “Sergeant Hacker, take this squad down the hill. Tactical withdrawal.”

The recruits came running toward the parade ground. Jack scouted the area ahead with the drone. The Chitins were closing in on all sides around the training complex. Crippin and Hacker were falling back toward the training complex, firing as they went. The few remaining Chitin soldiers were approaching more cautiously, but they were lashing out with their plasma spears.

Sergeant Hacker yelled in pain as his right leg was ripped off by a spear that coiled around his knee. Crippin grabbed the sergeant and dragged him backward, firing her rifle one-handed at the Chitins as she went. A spear flashed out and took her rifle arm at the elbow.

Jack piloted the drone between Crippin and the chits. He faced off against the chits and fired the last few remaining rounds. Kinetic rounds, incendiary rounds, and finally a mid-yield explosive that threw up rock and dust and Chitin flesh.

The rescue craft came down on the parade ground. A gun on the upper hull was firing bursts, hundreds of rounds per second. In the distance, Jack saw the rocky surface of the moon throwing up clouds of dust as the rounds struck. An officer ran out of the rescue craft and called the recruits aboard.

“Lieutenant Crippin,” Jack shouted.

“Get in, Jack,” Torent shouted from the ramp. “Get in,”

Jack piloted the drone to the stricken sergeant and lieutenant. He hovered the drone low to the ground and let Crippin and Hacker climb aboard. Carefully and as quickly as he could, Jack brought the drone and its human cargo to the rescue craft.

“We’ve got incoming,” the rescue craft officer shouted. He grabbed Jack by the collar and dragged him aboard. Jack watched through the drone sensors as a plasma spear struck from orbit. A huge Chitin craft appeared and eclipsed the distant sun. The massive plasma spears scoured the moon surface, throwing dust and rock into the thin atmosphere.

Jack gripped his head. His eyes burned from the inside as the information from the plasma spear strike flooded his brain. And then he lost contact with the drone. The sudden end of the data stream was as disorientating as when he first accessed it. Exhaustion hit and Jack collapsed, unconscious.

* * *

The first thing Jack noticed when he came around was the noise, the distant hum of the fusion drive. The second thing was the cold of the deck. He looked about and saw he was in a hangar deck aboard a destroyer. The hangar was neat and clean, except for the ragged recruits covered in dust and blood. An officer walked in front of the assembled recruits.

“At ease, trash bags. Welcome aboard the Scorpio. You have had the shortest and most brutish training any squad in the Fleet Marine Division has ever been through. You have all proven yourselves in the face of the enemy. It’s my duty to award you your Fleet Marine stripe.”

Jack nudged Torent. “You still think they’ll make you an officer?”

Torent held out a hand with a smile and pulled Jack off the deck. “You still think you’re too smart to be a Marine?”

Jack fell silent as the officer came up to him. He struggled to stay on his feet as he saluted. Torent held him steady as the officer pinned a Fleet Marine stripe on his chest. He’d never wanted to be a soldier, but now he knew the only way out was either in a body bag or by beating the Chitins. Next time he met them, he would be ready.

* * *

Forged in Space

A Jack Forge, Fleet Marine Story

Prologue

The System Fleet Command and Control Center was situated one kilometer beneath the surface of Eros’s north pole. Admiral Henson felt safe from the Chitin threat so far beneath the most heavily defended location of the most heavily defended planet in the system. That sense of safety bred confidence. This was the perfect place to plan system-wide operations against the Chitins.

Henson stood in front of the large holostage at the center of the operations room. With him stood the Chief of Operations Rear Admiral Tel Jackman and Fleet Commander Rear Admiral Victor Orlov.

The display showed the current deployment of fleet vessels throughout the system. The star burned as a pinpoint of light at the center of the display, thousands of times smaller in scale than the planets that were displayed in their current positions around the star.

The three carriers of the fleet were lit in different colors and the flotillas attached to those carriers, from destroyers down to corvette class ships, were all marked in the same color as their command carrier.

“Show me that moon again,” Henson said.

The display reframed and placed the system’s inner most gas giant, Penthus, at the center of the display, a huge hot gas giant that glowed with its strange brown light. Around Penthus orbited its moons. The small, swiftly-moving inner moon, Proxis, was a barren rock. Then came Polemos, a radioactive world that orbited in an exaggerated ellipse on a plane inclined to the ecliptic by almost thirty degrees. It was a moon with a violent history. Then came the last major moon of the Penthus system, Kratos.

Kratos orbited Penthus at a huge distance compared to the other moons. From its surface, Penthus looked like a second brown star. The moon was perpetually washed with light, either from the system’s central star or from the planet that glowed with its own dull brown light, the product of extreme friction heating the gas in the upper atmosphere. Days on Kratos lasted for months. Nights were brutally cold, but mercifully short. The atmosphere was thin and toxic. It was a nasty, barren world.

“Kratos is quite far out. A garrison will have to be pretty self-sufficient.” Henson leaned against the display and looked at the small holoimage of the moon.

“The Chitin home world, Zelos, is currently at its furthest point from Penthus and will be for decades to come,” Rear Admiral Jackman said. “Our people will be further from the Chitin threat than any other human in the system.”

“But if danger does come, we are going to be too far spread to support them.” Rear Admiral Orlov tapped the holostage and reframed the display to show the whole system. He then highlighted the fleet. “We are already spread too thin to protect ourselves. We just lost another frigate on a supposedly safe supply run.” Orlov looked at Henson and spoke as firmly as he dared. “Admiral, we need to fall back and concentrate our power. We should be planning a crushing attack on these Chits, not sending ships to the outer reaches of our territory.”

“Vic,” Jackman said with a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Hit them where? They evade us when we try and engage, hit us when we try to evade. We need a surveillance facility and this moon is the perfect spot.”

“Surveillance? We need ships to kill the enemy, and I won’t waste another fighter on a pointless expedition to nowhere.”

“Gentlemen.” Admiral Henson called his advisors to order with a low growl. “We need to find them to fight them. We need to level the field. This moon is the opportunity we need. Victor—” Henson turned to his fleet commander. “—we need to support this operation. You will allocate a destroyer to the task.”

“A destroyer?” Orlov exploded. “Admiral, maybe I can find a few cruisers. That should be enough to deploy a few boots to the ground.”

“No, Victor, a destroyer. The ground team will need supplies and support. A few cruisers just won’t cut it.”

“Maybe we should deploy the Sceptre to the region...”

Jackman was cut off mid-sentence as Orlov exploded again.

“A carrier? Not a chance, Tel. I can’t leave Eros open for you to go exploring...”

“You think I picked this moon randomly? It’s the perfect spot to give us the advantage we’ve been looking for.”

Admiral Henson quieted them both with a slight wave of his hand.

“Send a destroyer.”

Orlov and Jackman looked at each other and nodded.

“I’ll send the Scorpio,” Orlov said.

“Didn’t the Scorpio take a beating at grid three-five-eight just recently?” Jackman tapped the holostage and zoomed in on the Scorpio. The destroyer was in orbit around Eras, Eros’s cold sister world, along with a flotilla of frigates, corvettes, and a swarm of maintenance drones.

“The Scorpio is operational,” Orlov assured Henson.

Henson nodded. He studied the holoimage of the Scorpio. “Who’s captain of the Scorpio?”

“Captain Alistair Pretorius,” Orlov said without having to check. He’d been in communication with the captain over the last few days regarding the status of the repairs.

Admiral Henson nodded. “Impress upon the captain the dangers involved. He is to support Jackman’s operation, but if his ship is at risk due to Chitin activity, he is to run. You hear me, Victor? No heroics. We can’t lose another destroyer.”

“Maybe send a corvette or two to support Pretorius if he needs to withdraw his team from the moon.”

Admiral Henson tipped his head from one side to the other as he weighed the options. “No,” he said finally. “The Scorpio will be enough, but be sure to tell Pretorius it’s only a scouting mission, a simple mission. Remind him that the team he sends to the surface will be at risk so it shouldn’t contain any critical personnel.”

Henson stepped away from the holostage. Jackman and Orlov had work to do.

1

Jack Forge lay awake on his bunk. It was cold in the bunkhouse, despite the close quarters the squad were expected to survive in. Jack’s bunk was the third up in a stack of four, with the fourth barely thirty centimeters above his face.

Jack could hear every movement of his squad-mate in the bunk above, a young man who had been drafted into the military. Jack had only known him for a month but was already familiar with the smallest tick and habit of the man. He had quickly earned his nickname of Gas and Jack got to live with it.

Underneath Jack was Bubble. He’d earned his name by the bubble of snot that ballooned out of the man’s nose whenever he cried, and he cried a lot. He cried at the sting of the commander’s tazer. He cried as he gasped for breath during the many physical training exercises on the Marine deck. He cried at the sound of the rapid fire of the Fleet Marine pulse rifle. Mostly, he cried for home.

Across the small gap from Jack was Terry’s bunk. No one had given Terry a nickname for fear of antagonizing the brute. He was older than the rest of the squad by several years. A life in prison had left him skinny and pale, but his natural aggression and hatred of everyone made him dangerous. He had already served a four-day sentence in the Scorpio’s brig for punching a crewman.

Pulling the covers over his head, Jack tried to block out the sobbing from below, the gas from above, and the cold and nasty stare from Terry in the bunk stack opposite. It didn’t do any good.

Jack looked to his locker, a small cabinet at the head of his bunk with a combination padlock for security. This small box was Jack’s only private space. Everywhere else aboard the Scorpio Jack shared with the rest of his squad, or the rest of Cobra Company, or the Scorpio battalion, or the rest of the ship’s company. From meal time to shower time, all space was shared. But here at the end of his bunk was his forty-centimeter cube of privacy.

This was where Jack was allowed to store personal items, but as almost all items were contraband aboard ship, and as most Marines had nowhere to go to acquire any personal items, these personal lockers remained empty. Jack had one item, the mechanical parts of his family watch. Its silver casing had been sacrificed in his first, and only, battle with the Chitins.

The bunkhouse whistle sounded, calling the Marines to attention. Jack pushed thoughts of his only personal possession away; his only link to the past. He jumped off his bunk onto the cold deck and filed out to the small muster point outside the bunk stacks.

Commander Finch stood waiting impatiently for the squad to form up. The dozen Marines who had until just recently been raw recruits were still learning the basics of life in the Marines. Finch’s shouting and his tazer were working hard to educate them. For the most part, they had learned quickly.

Sam Torent stood next to Finch, the squad leader badge shining on his chest. He looked at Jack with a half-smile. Sam had been determined to keep the squad leader rank and now it seemed he had. Finch was there to inform the squad of the other appointments they had been waiting to hear about.

Finch glared at the shuffling mess of 6th squad as his finger toyed with the tazer trigger.

“In line, Sixth Squad,” Finch said quietly, but his annoyance was clear for all to hear.

“Fall in,” Torent shouted. He stepped forward and pushed the squad into a neat line.

“Look what I’ve got to work with,” Finch said to himself. “What a mess.” He shook his head as he looked along the line. “All right. Listen up. Major Cruz has appointed Torent as your squad leader, he is deemed the best choice until one of you can prove Major Cruz wrong.”

Finch paced in front of the squad, hands behind his back and nose in the air. “The Scorpio is short of a few hands in a few areas, so you Marines have the privilege of helping Captain Pretorius by taking on some work across the ship. Bubble, you sniveling rat. Get your limp ass to the laundry and report to Master Harper.”

Bubble looked around nervously.

“Are you waiting for a written invitation, Marine? Get moving now, on the double,” Finch shouted as he stepped closer to Bubble. Then Finch began laughing. “Double bubble.” Finch laughed as Bubble stepped out of line. “On the double, Bubble. Get your sorry ass down to the laundry. You’ve got a good name for a laundry rat, haven’t you, Bubble?”

Bubble walked to the exit and Finch walked alongside him, shouting into the man’s ear. Jack had to turn away in pity as he saw the big man heave with a fresh wave of sobbing. Then came a pitiful wail as Finch jabbed the tazer into Bubble’s fleshy buttocks. “Get down to that laundry and get scrubbing, you hopeless excuse for a Marine.”

Finch turned and faced the remaining eleven members of 6th squad. He was chuckling cruelly to himself but then wiped away the smirk and returned to his usual stony demeanor.

“Major Cruz needs a runner for his office up on the officer’s deck.”

Jack looked up expectantly. He was the fastest in the squad and he knew it. He would like to find and race anyone in the entire Scorpio battalion who could give him a run for his money. Jack would be a good choice, and he had studied. The major could well need someone with some higher level of education. Jack let his hopes rise in him. He sensed that Finch disliked him. A good opportunity to get rid of him. Then Jack realized he was only inviting disappointment by even hoping.

“Lois James,” Finch said. “Report to Major Cruz.”

Lois was a cheerful and attractive young woman. She’d fought alongside her company in the Battle of Training Moon, as their first battle had been dubbed. She’d told Jack afterward that fear had kept her in the line and firing her weapon. She had admitted she had been too afraid to run for fear of being hit in the back. She gave a bright smile to the squad as she walked quickly out of the muster area.

“Transport department is looking for a trainee.”

Jack was looking forward, eyes front, but he noticed Finch look his way. Jack had studied engineering at university before being drafted into the military. He’d repaired a drone under fire during the Battle of Training Moon. He was the obvious choice. Jack could see Finch looking at him, waiting for a hint of recognition or expectation from Jack. Jack had already allowed himself to get his hopes up once.

Trainee in the transport division sounded like work, but it would be more engaging than exercising and bunking cheek by jowl with his Marine squad-mates every minute of every day. Even if it was the lowest position there, replacing mag coils and depolarizing plasma containment cells in engineering would be much more enjoyable. He might even move onto flight operations. Jack knew better than to get his hopes up.

“Bill Harts,” Finch called out. “Report to transport on the double.”

Jack made every effort not to show Finch his disappointment. Certainly Finch knew Jack had experience that would make him more than suitable for a posting to transport. Perhaps Finch knew that there was animosity between Harts and Jack. Maybe Finch was doing everything he could to irritate and upset Jack. The commander was not likable and he clearly didn’t think much of Jack. It was difficult not to take it all personally.

Jack caught Torent’s eye and the slight shrug from the squad leader. It said so much—it said sorry you didn’t get the good posting, sorry Finch is being a dick, and sorry but I can’t help you. There was a time when Sam would have delighted in Jack’s misery, but things had changed after the Battle of Training Moon. Saving a man’s life tended to do that.

“One more and then I’ll let squad leader Torent take you out for exercise.”

Jack looked at Torent, who gave another apologetic shrug.

“Forge!” Finch barked. “Report to maintenance.” Finch sneered at Jack and looked pleased to give out such a menial position, then he turned on his heel and walked out of the squad muster area.

“Maintenance?” Jack said out loud as soon as Finch was away. He looked to Torent to complain.

But Torent was preoccupied. Terry was squaring up to him and getting ready for a fight. Terry spat on the ground and took another step forward.

“Squad leader?” Terry spat again. “How are you going to make me do anything?” Terry bunched his fits and advanced on Torent. The squad leader was moving lightly on the balls of his feet, his fists clenched, ready to settle this disagreement over seniority right there and then.

Jack wasn’t worried about Torent’s ability to stand up and fight, but he was worried about Terry’s obvious psychopathic nature.

Jack felt rage boil inside. Terry was a thug, a mindless idiot who only wanted to create violent disorder. Then there was Finch, some idiot commander who only wanted to increase his authority by making others feel inadequate. Both were bullies. Jack had had enough of bullies. And he was damned if he was going to work in maintenance, sweeping corridors and painting bulkheads for the rest of his life.

The frustration burst and Jack stepped in between Torent and Terry. He faced up to Terry. The ugly psychopath curled his lip and narrowed his eyes.

Jack heard the words come like a flood. “Who’s going to follow you? You couldn’t lead water over a waterfall, you kravin’ piece of...”

The sudden blow from Terry’s clenched fist made Jack’s ears ring, which mingled with the shouts of excitement from the squad. Jack raised his fists to swing at Terry, but another blow landed hard, followed by another.

Jack fell. The ground was cold and hard. Jack felt the boots kicking his guts. He heard Torent shouting to the squad to restrain Terry. The blows stopped raining in.

“I’ll tear your head off, Forge,” Terry was shouting.

Torent’s face came into Jack’s field of vision, which was swirling and spinning. Torent was laughing.

“What the krav got into you, Jacky.” Torent pulled Jack to his feet. “I can handle Terry. You’re supposed to be the smart one.” Torent held Jack’s cheeks and looked into his eyes.

“Kravin’ Finch.”

“Yeah, what a scroat.” Torent moved a finger back and fore across Jack’s view for Jack to follow with his eyes. “You okay? Can you stand?” Torent let go.

Jack felt the room spin, but he kept his feet, just. “Maintenance. What a pan of crap.”

“Yeah, terrible. Just don’t go and punch Finch or you’ll get a lot worse than a beating from Terry. Can you walk?”

Jack nodded and staggered toward the door. “Well done on getting squad leader, Sam.”

“Thanks, Jack. Now get off my deck.”

Jack stumbled out into the corridor, the sound of Sam Torent calling 6th squad to order echoing out of the squad muster area behind him.

2

Picking his way along the maze of corridors toward the maintenance department, Jack noticed how neglected some parts of the Scorpio were. The ship was functioning, but some areas were ignored with its military manpower being stretched. In one corridor, Jack noticed a small leak in one of the bundles of pipes that ran along the top of one wall. The dark, sticky liquid that leaked out in one lazy drop splashed into a large puddle on the floor, and the smell of stagnant water filled the corridor. The pipe had clearly been leaking for a long time.

If the leak had had a significant detrimental effect on the functioning of the Scorpio, no doubt a maintenance technician would have been dispatched to deal with it. In another time, the leak would have been fixed immediately to preserve the fabric of the ship, but not now. The maintenance department clearly had more pressing matters than one minor leak. It looked unsightly and was a symptom of the general degradation of the military due to the war with the Chitins.

Jack turned a corridor and realized he was lost. He looked this way and that in the hope of spotting a familiar sight. There were no signs here at this junction, only series of faded colored lines that had once directed foot traffic through the ship to some location or another.

Jack had only been aboard the Scorpio for a week and he had only been permitted to use certain areas of the ship. The bunk stacks, the mess, and the Marine deck where the entire Scorpio Marine battalion assembled for parade.

Jack paused in this corridor. It was empty. He could hear no voices or footsteps, only the distant hum of the ship’s power cells and the drip of fluid to the puddle below. The Scorpio was a large ship, one of the original twelve fleet destroyers. They were massive ships second only in size to the fleet’s three enormous, city-sized carriers.

Jack realized he couldn’t stay lost for long, even on a ship this size. He picked a color from the lines on the floor and followed. Yellow was good, it reminded him of the fields of home, when he had had a home, before everything changed, before the Chitins.

At the next junction, Jack found himself at a three-way crossroads. The corridor went on, the yellow line moving forward along the corridor. Other lines ran left and right along the corridor that cut across the one he was in. And in one corner of the junction was a stairway that gave access to the deck above and below.

A crewman came walking along the corridor, seemingly in no rush.

“I’m looking for maintenance,” Jack said as the crewman approached.

The crewman rolled his eyes and brushed past Jack.

“Can you point me toward the maintenance department?” Jack asked.

The crewman grabbed the handrail of the stairway and started up the stairs. “We have a maintenance department?”

Jack thought about following the crewman and pestering him for help.

“Thanks for your help.” Jack called after the crewman sarcastically.

“Any time,” came the echoing reply.

Jack stood at the junction and looked at each option. He guessed he could stand there for a bit longer and hope someone willing to help came along. Or Jack could pick a direction and walk. Big as the Scorpio was, it wasn’t endless. Sooner or later, Jack would come across the right department. Down looked interesting.

The corridor below was dark. All lights were out. Further along, a light flickered on and off. “Guess I’ll get to see plenty of faulty wiring working maintenance,” Jack said aloud.

Voices echoed along the corridor. And then Jack heard the sizzling sound of someone cutting the ship’s composite bulkheads. It sounded like a maintenance crew at work, so he walked toward it. In the next corridor, Jack found himself splashing through a large puddle of dirty water. The whole corridor smelled damp and echoed with the sounds of splashing water. The voices grew louder. Jack heard a loud shout of frustration and swearing.

Jack turned the corner and saw a three-man team working on a system behind the composite bulkhead. All three were looking through a hole cut through the corridor paneling.

“We can’t just patch it there. Once the system kicks up, the whole conduit will rupture.” One of the three was speaking, his head fully inside the hole. He wore maintenance coveralls with a Master stripe on the sleeve.

“We haven’t got a replacement on board,” the second, taller man said. The top half of his coveralls was tied by the sleeves around his waist. A grubby vest that had once been white was stretched over his tight gut. He stood behind the master and was looking inside.

The third was a youth, just recruitment age. He had long hair and a fine wisp of hair on his top lip. He held an electron scalpel, activating and deactivating the fine blade and staring at it.

“We can install a pneumatic pump at that conduit...” said the man in the grubby vest.

“The gunners are going to want to aim the damn things as well, Slim,” said the master. “It’s no good. We are going to have to fabricate a new conduit. Strip out that old loader in the secondary aft airlock and...” The master drew his head out of the hole in the wall and saw Jack.

“Not enough work for the Marines to do any, is it, dough head.” The master looked at Jack.

“Maintenance?” Jack said. He spoke so quietly, the words trapped in his throat. He mentally kicked himself for not speaking up more forcefully.

“Yes,” the master said. “I’m Doyle. What do you want, Marine?” Master Doyle spotted the boy playing with the electron scalpel. He carefully took it from the boy and handed it to the tall man.

“Don’t tell me, you are the new maintenance crew? A one-man crew?” Doyle turned to his tall colleague. “I ask for relief for weeks and then they send me a kravin’ headache. You ever held a wrench, dough head?”

3

Master Doyle led the way back to the maintenance department. He sent his tall colleague to the secondary aft airlock at one junction, then walked through the maze of corridors with Jack and the boy who had been hypnotized by the blue electron blade. In one corridor, a wall opened out into a large hangar. It would have been big enough for a game of interdepartmental football if the area wasn’t filled with work benches and the many large pieces of free-standing equipment. At the far end of the hangar, Jack saw one member of the maintenance crew working at a bench.

“Where is everyone?” Jack asked, thinking the rest of the department were out fixing the many minor problems the Scorpio seemed to have, not to mention the general untidiness he’d seen about the ship.

“Slim is in the secondary aft airlock stripping out some materials. The kid never leaves my side.” Doyle jerked his head toward the youth. “Reyes is over there working on our pet Chit.” Doyle pointed at the figure at the workbench in the distance. Doyle noticed the shock on Jack’s face. “Don’t panic, soldier. It’s strapped down. It’s not going anywhere. And neither are you. And now we are four. Four maintenance technicians and about a thousand square meters of destroyer to look after. If you thought this would be easier than life in the battalion, you are even more stupid than you look, dough head.”

“I didn’t ask to come here, sir,” Jack said. “I was sent here.”

“Someone must really hate you,” Doyle laughed. “And don’t call me sir. I’m not an officer. Call me Doyle. Or Oily.”

“Or shithead,” the boy said.

Doyle turned suddenly toward the boy. “What?” he growled.

The boy cowered, lowered his gaze, hunched his shoulders, and backed away. “Slim calls you shithead.”

Doyle reached out, grabbed the cowering youth by his coveralls, and dragged him close. Doyle laid a big hand on the boy’s smooth cheek. “That’s not a nice thing to say.” Then turning to Jack, “Call me Doyle. Now, what can you do, soldier?”

“I fixed a drone once.”

“Saints and mothers bless us all.” Doyle raised his hands and looked up. “Someone useful for once.” He pointed to a bench in the middle of the hangar. “That drone needs a new AI. Strip one out from the junk pile—” Doyle pointed to a distant pile of junk. “—and fix up that drone. Fire control wants to blow it up when they test the port side battery later so they don’t need it to be pretty, they just need it pretty quick.”

Jack looked at the drone and the junk pile, then back to Doyle and the boy who stood fully in Doyle’s shadow.

“Do you need a manual?” Doyle asked Jack.

“No. No, thank you,” Jack stammered.

“Thank you?” Doyle growled. “Thank me when they send you back to the battalion to get shot up.” Doyle pointed again. “Drone! AI! Work! Now!”

* * *

Jack opened the drone AI service hatch and hooked up the diagnostic tool. The AI was dead. Jack remembered working on AI systems in university, one module a week for a half session on Thursday mornings. He’d picked up the basics. The interior of this drone was old and untidy. He tested the surrounding components to check it wasn’t a short or that a new AI wouldn’t automatically blow once installed.

The maintenance hangar was quiet. Doyle and the boy had left and only Jack and Reyes remained. Reyes was dressed in a coverall with a large protective head-guard. Jack looked over and saw a long tentacle writhe up off the work bench in front of Reyes.

“Our pet Chit,” Jack said to himself. He’d thought Doyle was messing with him, but it looked as if it were true. Another long tentacle, an unmistakable Chitin tentacle, rose off the bench, coiling back up and dropping.

Jack walked over to the pile of scrap to try and dig out an AI unit. His eyes were drawn every time a Chitin tentacle rose off the bench. He looked across the junk pile and spotted a few junked systems that would have AI installed. He checked a broken power suit. The AI unit was functioning. It was lower grade to the standard drone AI, but if it was going to get shot up anyway, what did it matter?

From the corner of his eye, Jack saw three Chit tentacles suddenly animate and thrash around violently. Reyes was backing away then moved quickly toward the Chit.

Jack remembered the first time he’d seen a real life Chit close up. He remembered how hard they were to stop, even with a pulse rifle. Reyes seemed in control until a tentacle lashed out and struck Reyes’s head-guard. He fell and the three tentacles writhed and thrashed on.

Jack ran over to the fallen Reyes. He avoided the thrashing tentacles and reached out to help Reyes. The technician was already standing up and reaching out to a control panel that was wired to the Chit.

“Kravin’ feedback problems every kravin’ time,” Reyes said and then punched a button on the panel. The Chitin’s writhing tentacles flopped down hard. Reyes pulled the head-guard off.

The first thing Jack noticed were her cheeks, flushed red with frustration and anger and effort. Then he noticed the thick brown hair falling out of the head-guard to tumble over her dirty coveralls. Then he noticed her brown eyes staring at him.

“Who are you?”

“Jack,” Jack whispered.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” Reyes asked, turning to the Chitin.

“I’m the new maintenance guy. Who are you?” Jack heard his question and realized he sounded like a lovestruck kid, not a battle-hardened Marine. He blushed as he realized that was exactly what he was.

Reyes was a few centimeters taller than Jack and few years older. She was clearly clever and bold, and she filled her coveralls in a way that made Jack interested and uncomfortable, nervous and keen.

“I’m Reyes. Sarah Reyes.” She unzipped her coveralls and pulled it off her shoulders. She tied the arms around her waist. Her t-shirt strained over her chest as she heaved a heavy sigh and studied the Chit. “And this is Fido, our new pet.”

“Is it…dead?” Jack leaned in for a closer look

Reyes grabbed a bottle from the bench behind and popped off the cap. “Something in there is.” She tipped her head back and drank greedily, water spilling out of the side of her mouth and trickling over her sweaty skin. “I think what we know as a Chit—” She poked the fleshy tentacle. “—is just an exo-suit of some kind. The actual Chitin is in there somewhere.”

Jack stepped up and looked at the instrument panel wired to the Chit. Cables were strapped on and stuck into the Chit at various points. “You sure it’s dead?” Jack asked.

Reyes nodded and took another drink.

“Where did you get it?” Jack asked, touching one of the tentacles.

“We captured it when we were attacked at grid three-five-eight. A Kraken, a small Chit craft, attached itself to the hull and cut in. We had a dozen of the bastards running around. This one was killed. Doyle had it brought here.”

“The ship was boarded?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. They took five people.”

“Took them? Where?”

“Oh, they didn’t get very far. The captain shot them down when they tried to get away. You see, they wanted to study us. It was a smash and grab raid, right. But they ended up giving one of them to us and now we can study them. You know, they say they must be intelligent because their weapons are so much more powerful than ours, but I’m not so sure. A bird isn’t more intelligent than you because it can fly, right? It’s just an ability.”

Reyes pulled her coveralls back over her shoulders and grabbed her head-guard off the floor. “Unless you want Doyle kicking your ass all up and down the Scorpio, you better get busy with something.”

“I’m fixing that drone,” Jack said enthusiastically, hoping to impress the intriguing Sarah Reyes.

Reyes pulled on the head-guard. “Have fun,” she said and then stepped up to the Chit and the control panel. “Don’t let me keep you.”

But Jack was not going to be able to get away from Sarah Reyes, no matter how far he went. There was something about her he couldn’t get out of his mind. He backed away slowly, watching her, mesmerized by her every move.

Jack eventually made it back to the drone and attempted to bury himself in work. He would show her how good he was by making this drone work even better than it had before, even if it was only for a few moments before it was incinerated or fragmented by the Scorpio’s guns.

Working in maintenance was going to be harder than he had feared, and more exciting than he had thought it could be.

4

The holostage at the center of the command deck showed the Penthus system. The gas giant, scaled down, sat at the center of the display. The planet’s three major moons were displayed at their relative positions around the giant. The Scorpio appeared on the edge of the holostage projection, scaled up to be visible.

Captain Pretorius stood at the edge of the holostage, with Commander Chou to his right. The display screens at the operation stations around the command deck flashed various details of the Scorpio’s status. Some were manned, but many were given over to AI. The command deck had once been a busy hub, the beating heart of the ship, and Pretorius had been at its center. Now, the crew was depleted to a virtual skeleton staff. Pretorius had taken over jobs he had once delegated to his command officers. Now his command staff consisted of Commander Chou and himself. AI was able to monitor data and give alerts. AI could throw out a strategy quickly. Human conversation was slow and clumsy, but Pretorius trusted the ideas that emerged from the mess. Trusting his ship and his crew to a computer was not in his nature.

Pretorius knew of a captain of a corvette who had dismissed his entire command and had taken over direct control of all operations, linking with his AI through a neural processor. It worked for a fighter or a cruiser pilot, but Pretorius didn’t think it suitable for a battleship.

“All stop.” Captain Pretorius looked at the Penthus system as Commander Chou issued the orders to flight control to bring the ship to a full stop. Chou was a capable commander and would soon have his own ship. Pretorius trusted him to take the necessary steps to take care of the ship. The captain didn’t have to order the activation of gun batteries and active scans. Chou ordered it.

It was too much ground for one ship to cover. Only a few years ago, even a brief scouting mission would have been done by a flotilla, consisting of a destroyer plus several frigates and corvettes, and possibly even a carrier if there was a hint of danger. Pretorius was not going to take any risks.

“Launch surveillance drones, Mister Chou. Launch them all. Full spread. I want to see around every corner.”

“Aye, Captain.” Chou issued the orders, tapping his info panel on the holostage and sending messages to AI through his neural processor. The holostage image around the Scorpio lit up as a dozen fine orange lines spread out from the Scorpio, marking the flights of a dozen surveillance drones. They moved swiftly away from the ship, extending the sensor range and giving a line of sight to the far side of the moon Kratos.

Pretorius watched the drones move away. It would be hours before he had even a fragment of information on the Penthus System. Kratos was his target, but Chitins could be hidden anywhere. There were two other major moons, and several minor moons that were no bigger than some asteroids. There was also the gas giant itself. The Chitins lived in the atmosphere of the gas giant, Zelos, and there was no reason not to believe that a Chitin craft could easily park within the upper atmosphere of Penthus.

The Chitins themselves could not exist in that atmosphere as they could in the clouds of their home world any more than a human from Eros could exist in the cold, thin atmosphere of its sister world, Eras. But a Chitin craft could quite conceivably hold station in the upper atmosphere. Pretorius eyed the holographic representation of the giant with suspicion. First, he needed to verify that the nearest moon was clear of enemies. Then he would check the next, and then the next. He would keep a watchful eye on the swirling clouds of Penthus. The Chitins always attacked from cover, and the Penthus system had plenty of cover.

The first of the drones achieved a position to give a sensor reading from the far side of Kratos.

“Far side of the target is clear, Captain,” Chou reported.

Pretorius tapped on his console and focused in on the target moon. He positioned the moon at the center of the display and fed all live data to the image.

“Mission directives clear us for approach, Captain.”

Pretorius studied the rotating image of the moon. He’d studied the surface thoroughly during the flight here. He’d studied every mountain range and deep ravine on that surface, anywhere where a Chitin craft could hide. He used the live data streamed through the drones to study more closely the areas he’d identified as being the greatest threat.

“Sir,” Chou urged Pretorius.

“Move the ship into orbit around the moon, Mister Chou.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Leave one drone in orbit at the opposite side to the Scorpio and send the rest in system. I want every centimeter of the other moons scanned.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And keep a sensor watch on the planet. I want to know if anything bigger than a hydrogen atom escapes that atmosphere.”

“Aye, sir.”

Pretorius looked at the moon. The admiralty had identified this location as a prime spot for a surveillance facility that would give them data on movements throughout the solar system. If they could identify the location of a single Chitin craft before it attacked a ship of the fleet then it might be possible to outflank, outmaneuver, and outgun the enemy. Maybe a listening post out here could turn the tide of the war. Maybe it was the latest straw the admiralty was clutching at. And here was Pretorius, the hand reaching out. Hopefully, the Chits wouldn’t leap out of hiding and cut it off.

Pretorius tugged at his cuffs and stepped away from the holostage. “Mister Chou, inform Major Cruz to assemble his team on the Marine deck. Let me know when they are ready. I want to meet the squad we are sending down there.”

5

Jack installed the AI unit pulled from a scrapped water purification system. The drone needed a software update, but it was otherwise ready for action. Connecting the drone to the Scorpio’s AI, Jack patted the composite hull of the doomed little drone. He glanced across the maintenance hangar to Reyes. She was still busy with the Chitin.

Jack saw a Chitin tentacle stiffen and stand out from the others. Then another. Jack walked slowly toward Reyes and her Chitin experiment. Another of the Chitin’s tentacles stiffened and stood out. And then the four tentacles suddenly lost their rigidity and flopped down to the bench. Reyes pulled her head-guard off and sat against the bench. “I’m getting there,” she said. She took her water bottle and drank.

“I’ve seen these in action,” Jack said. sitting next to Reyes. That brought a look of surprise and admiration from Reyes.

“I thought you were pretty green?” she asked, looking back to the Chitin on the bench.

“I am,” he admitted.

“I never thought I’d see one moving around,” Reyes said. “I thought I’d be safe on a destroyer. Hope I never see another moving around again.”

“Except for this one,” Jack said.

Reyes nodded and took another drink. “Except for this one. Only this is just the exoskeleton, a suit, an environment suit,” she said. “Whatever the Chitins are, they are inside these. I’m trying to get the damn thing open. I think there is a Chitin inside.”

Reyes pulled her head-guard back on and looked at the control panel. “Step back a bit,” she said. “They can give you a real heavy blow with those tentacles.”

Jack stepped back and put a work bench between himself and Reyes. He climbed onto the bench and looked over Reyes’s shoulder to see what she was doing. The panel she had connected was delivering electrical signals of varying intensities to various parts of the Chit.

A tentacle coiled up and then uncoiled and stiffened. Reyes re-set and the tentacle flopped back down to the bench.

“It’s a bit of trial and error at the moment, but I think I have control over all movement. I just want to access some sort of opening in the body of the beast.”

Jack looked closely at the Chit for the opening Reyes was looking for. The tentacles sprouted from the dark body. In many places, it was matte black and speckled with purple and green. Some places, the body was smooth. It was shining under the lights of the maintenance hangar and almost looked translucent, as if showing the black heart of the beast. Between the matte, speckled parts and the shining smooth parts, there was a network of fine, convoluted twisting lines. The body seemed to have smooth areas on the top of the head around the snout with its circle of white teeth.

Reyes began directing pulses and varying frequencies to various parts of the Chit. The head moved sideways, the mouth parts pulling back to reveal more of the white teeth.

“That’s better,” Reyes said. “You see that?”

Jack remembered only too well how he’d seen that snarling action close up during the Battle of Training Moon. He had hoped to never see it again, but here was Reyes, excited by it.

The Chitin head flopped as Reyes cancelled the current. “I think it’s about location and frequency. If I can just get the right...”

Jack felt his heart leap as the body of the Chitin cracked along the fine twisted lines in its shell. The crack opened up slightly. There was a sudden hiss, like pressure being released. A deep purple ooze bubbled up and out of the crack, slowly flowing out and over the shell of the Chitin, the bench, and to the floor.

Reyes moved quickly and grabbed an expander tool from the bench. She forced it into the small crack, the ooze covering her hands. Having fitted the tool in place, she jacked it open further. The shell made a cracking noise and Reyes stopped.

Jack looked at the open cavity in the Chitin shell. The purple ooze stopped flowing and settled in the opening. Reyes disconnected the various wires. She pulled her head-guard off and dropped it to the bench. She looked up at Jack, who was standing and staring. She beamed up at him, smiling a bright smile that captured Jack, pulling his attention fully away from the slime-oozing broken Chit.

“I’m in. I’m kravin’ well in.” She shook the ooze off her hands, and it splattered to the floor. She looked up at Jack. “I’ve kravin’ well done it.”

She turned and looked at the fracture. “Now we can start to find out what they are about.”

“Is that its blood?” Jack asked, looking nervously at the fracture.

Reyes looked at her hands. “Maybe this is its body,” she said. “Their natural environment must be at a much higher pressure than ours.” She shook off more ooze. “Maybe whatever was inside has been burst by the low pressure.”

“We know so little about them,” Jack said.

“We know they try to kill us whenever they can.”

“Maybe we could catch a live one and try and talk to it. Find out why they want to kill us.” Jack climbed off the bench, taking care not to slip on the ooze.

“Okay,” Reyes said. “Good luck with that. I just want to know how they work. Not so bothered about what makes them tick upstairs.” Reyes tapped the side of her head.

“I hope you two have got a good reason to be slacking off.” Doyle’s voice made Jack jump.

“I’ve cracked open this Chit,” Reyes reported brightly.

Doyle came over to the bench, closely followed by George. “Good work, Sarah,” Doyle said. “I knew you’d get there.” He looked at the opening in the Chitin shell. George knelt on the floor and ran his fingers through the ooze.

“Don’t put that in your mouth, George,” Doyle said, pulling the boy off the floor. “And what about you, Mister Forge? You been working or just looking at Reyes’s ass?”

Jack felt his face burn red with embarrassment. He stammered and pointed to the drone. “I’ve fixed up the drone with AI from a scrapped water purifier.”

“Let’s look.” Doyle walked over to the drone, George following. Jack glanced at Reyes nervously. Had she been offended by Doyle’s remark? Jack was hoping to get to know her, maybe date her. Doyle could have ruined everything if she now thought Jack had been looking at her in a lascivious way.

Reyes smiled at Jack. If she could see the discomfort he was in, she made light of it. It made Jack feel a hell of a lot better. He relaxed slightly.

“Do you want to talk me through this?” Doyle shouted from the other side of the hangar. “Any time you are ready, Forge.”

Jack jogged over and began explaining his work, where he’d found the AI unit and how he’d installed it.

“Good work, Forge,” Doyle said, nodding and looking at the drone. “Looks like we’ve got a couple of real engineers on the staff at last. Between you, Reyes, and George, here we might get the Scorpio into something like a combat ready state.”

Jack beamed and dusted off the top of the drone.

“I’ll get George to take this over to the launch bay,” Doyle said.

George shook his head and stepped closer to Doyle.

“It’s not far. You know the way.”

George shook his head vigorously and looked nervously at the doorway leading out of the hangar.

“You can help out the team a little bit, George. Just take this over to the...”

George grabbed Doyle’s arm and held on tight. Jack started to feel very uncomfortable with the young man’s behavior, but Doyle took it calmly.

“Okay. You can stay with me,” Doyle said. Immediately, George relaxed.

“I can take it to the launch bay,” Jack said.

Doyle shook his head. “I’ll take it.” He picked up a scrap of computer circuit from a pile of junk on Jack’s bench and handed it George. “Try and fix that for me, George.”

George took the item and began pulling and prodding it, immersed in the work.

“He was a galley hand,” Doyle said, nodding toward George. “That’s where the Chits came in. They cut through the hull and came in through the galley. They captured the entire galley staff. George was in the freezer when they infiltrated the ship and got locked in. Nearly died of hypothermia, but that freezer saved his life. I was there patching up the hull after the damn Chits left and I found him. He won’t leave my side now. I’m trying to get him to spread his wings a bit, but it’s still early days yet. Right, George?”

George handed the broken circuits back to Doyle, who looked at them for a moment before praising George for his work.

Jack had seen what a close encounter with the Chitins could do to someone. It was impossible to predict how someone would be affected. Some held their nerve and fought them. Some broke and ran. Some froze and remained rooted to the spot, stunned by the Chitins, their alien bodies, and their strange movement. No one came away from an encounter with the Chits and was quite the same again.

“Jack Forge. Are you hiding in here?

Jack spun around and looked at who had called out. Sam Torent came marching into the maintenance hangar.

“Sam. What are you doing down here?”

“I’ve come to get you for some real work,” Torent said. “I’ll have to pull you away from your toys. Who do you have to notify of your recall to the battalion?”

Doyle looked Torent in the eye and then showed the stripe on his coveralls’ sleeve.

Torent came to attention. “Sorry, Master,” Torent said, saluting. “Major Cruz has ordered Sixth Squad to assemble on the Marine deck. We’re not Sixth Squad without all veterans of the Battle of Training Moon.”

Jack looked at Doyle. He hoped Doyle would refuse him permission to leave. Jack looked over to Reyes. She was wiping her hands free of slime and looking over. She gave Jack a smile, half-friendly and half-sad to see him go.

“You’re a good engineer, Forge,” Doyle said. “Get back as soon as you can.” Doyle patted Jack on the shoulder. George copied and patted Jack too.

Torent slung an arm over Jack’s shoulder and walked him away. “They keep some funny people down in maintenance. I can see how you fit in. Let’s get a pulse rifle in your hands. You remember how to use a pulse rifle, don’t you?”

* * *

“Captain on deck,” Commander Finch shouted out as Pretorius entered. The stamp of boots as the squad came to attention echoed around the Marine deck. Major Cruz walked next to Pretorius.

It was the first time Jack had seen their captain and only the second time he’d seen the major.

Cruz was small but solid, a cannonball of a man. Pretorius was tall and filled with confidence. He was used to giving orders and having those orders be followed. He had the air of a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. He displayed the sort of confidence that inspired others to be confident too. Then Jack noticed him tugging his cuffs. It was a minor motion, barely discernible, but Jack saw it and thought it a nervous twitch.

“At ease, squad,” Pretorius said, his voice strong in the huge Marine deck. The captain stood in front of the squad and looked them over. Then he turned to Cruz and spoke quietly. Jack heard the hushed words. He watched carefully

“I don’t recognize any of your team.”

“This is the new squad. Our long overdue replacements, Captain.”

“This is the squad from the Battle of Training Moon?”

“Yes, sir. Sixth Squad of Cobra Company, Commander Finch’s company.”

Jack detected a hint of displeasure in the way the captain’s eyes narrowed momentarily.

“They are the squad with the most recent combat experience.” Pretorius nodded. “And you will be leading the mission, Commander?”

Jack noticed Finch take a step back, clearly recoiling from the very thought of joining the mission.

“I thought it would be better for me to direct the mission from the Marine ops center with Major Cruz here on board the Scorpio, Captain.”

Pretorius nodded and seemed to consider the suggestion. “Who do you think should lead them on the ground?”

“Their squad leader. Step forward, Torent.” Finch spoke in a voice harsh and dry, a voice on the verge of cracking like a sunbaked mud flat. “He has proven himself in battle, Captain. I have every confidence in the man.”

“Their squad leader? No, Commander. I think you should lead them. The area is clear. Risk is minimal. I don’t think you should pass up the opportunity to get your boots dirty.” Pretorius turned to Major Cruz. “Any objections, Major?”

“No, Captain,” Cruz replied with a strong voice.

Finch hooked a finger under his collar and turned his head back and fore, his chin protruding forward.

Pretorius turned his attention to the squad standing at ease, but Jack thought if they felt anything like he did then they were not at ease at all. Pretorius walked up to Torent, who stepped back into position on the right of the first row. Torent saluted as Pretorius stepped up.

“As you were, Squad Leader,” Pretorius said. “You were at the Battle of Training Moon when the damn Chitins attacked?”

“Yes, sir. Hell of a fight, Captain.”

“So I understand. I read the reports. One of the squad fixed up a drone while under fire. Is that Marine here now?”

Torent held out a hand and indicated Jack, who was standing next to him. The captain took a step over and faced Jack.

“If you hadn’t fixed up that drone, Marine, we might have lost even more people down there. Good work.” Captain Pretorius nodded his approval.

Jack looked up at the tall man. He noticed the deep creases in the captain’s skin. The captain wasn’t that old, but the war was taking its toll.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“How did you come to be in the Marines? I would have thought fleet engineers would have taken your application gladly.”

“I didn’t apply for service, Captain. I was drafted after I failed to make the grade in university.”

Pretorius tugged his cuff. “Nevertheless, it must be very satisfying to look back and know you were so vital to that day’s work.”

“No, sir. It was utterly terrifying and I still have nightmares about it.”

Finch strode forward, red and angry. “You stow that kravin’ mouth, Marine, or you’ll be on laundry duty for a month.”

“Does that mean I won’t have to fight, Commander?”

Finch had his tazer in his hand and a cruel look in his eye. Pretorius calmed the commander with a light touch. The captain smiled at Jack, but there was a clear look behind the smile that told Jack that further insolence would not be tolerated. Pretorius was a natural leader of men.

“You’ll fight, if you have to, Marine. I’ve read your file. You’ll fight if you have to.”

Pretorius walked along the lines of 6th squad before taking his position in front of them.

“Listen up. Your mission is to reconnoiter the moon. If we can establish a listening post out here, we can gain a significant advantage in this fight. There is hardly any atmosphere on Kratos, so you will be equipped with tactical suits. The VR deck is cleared for you to familiarize yourselves with this equipment. Make sure you bring it back in one piece, preferably with you safe inside it. Good luck, Marines.”

The captain turned and walked off the Marine deck. Major Cruz told Finch to carry on and left behind the captain.

Finch turned toward the squad, his face twisted in anger and annoyance. “Meat suit training on the VR deck right now.” Then Finch walked up to Jack and jabbed the tazer in his ribs.

Jack felt the jolt spread over his bones and fizz in the base of his skull. He fell to his hands and knees. The second jab from the tazer was aimed between his shoulders. He fell flat on his face as the power ripped though his body a second time. He heard Finch talking in a screeching wail.

“You show me up like that in front of the captain again, Marine, and you will be sorry.”

The tazer bit again and Jack felt his tears burn like acid. Then he heard Torent speak.

“I think the scroat learned his lesson, Commander.”

Jack heard the tazer fizzing. “You make sure he has, Squad Leader. You make sure he has.” He could hear the sound of Finch’s footsteps walking away.

“For a clever Marine, you are one stupid kravin’ scroat,” Torent said with a laugh in his voice. “Why don’t you do your talking on the training deck? On your feet, Forge. On the double.”

“I think I need help.”

“Damn right you need help.” Torent pulled Jack off the floor. “You need professional help. I hear the fleet is too undermanned to have a counselor, though. The last one got posted to laundry.”

Jack stood up, his knees regaining their ability to hold him upright. “When the captain said we could gain a significant advantage, what do you think he meant?”

“You know me better than that, Jacky. I don’t waste time thinking. What do you think he meant?”

“That we might stop losing this war?” Jack suggested.

“Maybe. But you’re not going to be around to see us win or lose if you keep annoying Finch. Now get to that VR deck on the double, Marine.”

Jack walked to the exit, his strength returning by the second. “You know how I know we’re going to lose?”

“Enlighten me, genius.”

“Because the people who make the tactical decisions also made your stupid ass squad leader.”

Jack took the heavy punch on the upper arm. Torent hit hard even when he was fooling.

6

The VR pods were stacked as tightly as the bunks in the bunkhouse. Jack slid into his assigned pod and was immediately immersed in the VR training environment. His body was suddenly covered by the light and flexible armor of the Marine Extreme Environment Tactical Suit. The acronym MEET suit was taken to mean ‘meat suit’ by the Marines. The suit was comfortable but unfamiliar. The pulse rifle was familiar. The VR environment represented the weapon perfectly and Jack recognized its size, shape, and weight.

Torent was down on one knee scanning the horizon. He held up his fist, instructing the squad to hold position. He turned to Jack.

“Forge. Here. Now.”

Jack jogged toward Torent and took a knee. He scanned the horizon through his rifle sights. “You got an order for me?”

Torent slung his rifle over his shoulder and activated the holomap. He tapped the controls on the suit’s glove, waved his hand across the ground, and the map appeared, green and flickering.

“Jack, take a position on this hill to our right. Give me eyes on that valley before I lead the squad in. Take a partner, if you need.”

“I’ll take Osho. She’s quiet, light on her feet, and she can keep up.”

Torent called Osho forward. “Keep a watch on the surrounding area. If I start pulling heat, lay down a covering fire. Go.”

Jack took off toward the hill on the right flank of Torent’s advance into the valley. The eight kilometers seemed like no distance at all with the meat suit helping Jack run. He almost wished it wasn’t helping him. It had been a long time since he’d been for a long run. The corridors of the Scorpio were long, but it was not the same as a good run in the wide open. Even though in reality Jack was laying on his back in a VR pod, he let himself enjoy the fantasy of being outside, even if the environment was a version of hell.

The hill was a dusty and rocky outcrop in a wide landscape of black rocks shot through with fine rivers of red lava. Kratos was a protoplanet, or hot moon, pulled and tugged to near breaking point by the gravity of the nearby gas giant. The sky of this simulation was painted black with no stars to distract the Marines in their training. It was the most unreal part of the simulation and the perfect black was more of a distraction than any vista would have been. Jack imagined his own view, a gas giant with rings cutting across the horizon, swirling clouds of red and purple.

Jack and Osho reached the summit of the small hill. Jack lay flat on the ground and looked back to the squad. Osho took a knee and scanned the horizon over the full 180 degrees with her pulse rifle.

“They are moving into the valley now,” Jack said. Using the suit comms, he spoke to Torent. “Sam, I’ve got a visual on you and the squad. The way ahead looks clear.”

“Switch to bioscan,” Torent ordered.

“Why bioscan?” Osho asked Jack as she switched her scanning mode. “Chits don’t show up on bioscan.”

“There might be something else out here,” Jack replied. “Switching to bioscan now. It all looks clear.”

“We know there is something out here,” Torent said. “Why send us in to VR without throwing a load of damn Chits at us?”

“Maybe to get you used to disappointment and boredom?” Osho suggested.

“I’ll take a load of boredom over having to talk to you,” Torent said.

Then Jack spotted a movement, a rock fall on the opposite slope of the shallow valley.

“Movement on your left, Sam,” Jack said. He switched through all the scanning modes and zoomed in on the area where the rocks had slid. “I can’t detect any creature moving on the slope, though.”

“Okay. Hold your position. Keep your focus. I’m continuing my advance.”

Jack saw the opposite ridge of the shallow valley heave and move. It was as if the entire ridge sprang to life as a hoard of Chitin soldiers rose from the dirt, dust and pebbles falling away and tumbling down the slope. Jack’s pulse rifle was alive, spitting fire at the far ridge even before he spoke. “Defend yourself, Sam. Chits. On your left. Thousands of them.”

Jack and Osho fired rapidly into the center of the Chitin hoard as it ran headlong down the slope toward the squad. Torent formed his squad into a tight square and directed the squad’s fire in tight, concentrated bursts. One pulse rifle could rip a Chitin soldier to shreds in seconds. Jack could see the squad didn’t have seconds. The battle was going to be counted in fractions of a second. Torent’s tactic was working as the squad’s combined, concentrated fire tore through the hoard.

“We are no good up here,” Jack said. “The fight is down there.” Jack tried to focus his fire on the most immediate threat to the squad. The Chits came on in a mass, the writhing tentacles of one individual indiscernible from those of another.

“We can’t go down there,” Osho said. “It’s hopeless.”

Jack noticed Osho had stopped firing. “Keep firing. On your feet. We’re moving in.”

Jack pulled Osho to her feet and started down the slope toward the square of Marines. Their fire was just about holding back the flood of Chitins. “Sam,” Jack said into the suit comm as he scurried down through the loose rocks of the slope. “Call in supporting fire.”

“It’s only us here,” Torent said.

Jack thought he detected an element of disillusionment in Torent’s voice. The squad leader was holding off the assault, just, but he was close to giving up.

“We don’t know what the simulation has to offer. Call the fleet and ask for support.”

“They are nearly on us. I don’t think we can hold back anymore. Stupid game.”

Jack noticed he was running alone. He glanced back and saw Osho sitting in the loose rocks, her rifle at her side. She was throwing small rocks in a childish, absentminded manner.

“This is Sixth Squad,” Jack called over his comms. “Request fire support from any available units.”

“This is orbital support,” the voice came crackling over his comms. “Awaiting co-ordinates for orbital barrage.”

Jack watched as the Chit soldiers crashed into the Marines. The ground in front of Jack came alive and a Chit erupted through the loose, black ground. A tentacle wrapped around his neck and another went ridged and blade-like. The blade was thrust swiftly forward, slicing through suit and flesh and bone. Jack felt a cold shiver down his spine and then the simulation flickered off.

* * *

Finch paced in front of the squad, shouting his displeasure.

“You pathetic bunch of ass berries. The Chits in that sim weren’t even armed. How are you going to stand against plasma spear?” Finch stopped in front of Torent. “How are you going to fight them if you stand in a cowering little group and wait to get slaughtered?” Finch took another step. “How are you going to fight them if you can’t work as a team?” He stopped in front of Jack and shouted in Jack’s face. “How is the squad going to win if cowards like you go and hide on the nearest hill?”

Jack couldn’t work out if Finch was shouting at the squad to toughen them up for what would be a difficult mission, or if Finch didn’t understand what Torent had been doing, and what he had been doing keeping watch on that hill. Jack had understood Torent’s plan. The tactics Torent had used against the Chit hoard had been sound. There was no point running at that stage of the battle. The hoard was faster and more maneuverable than 6th squad. If they had run, they would have been slaughtered. Standing together was the best way to face the onslaught. And having Jack on a hill to provide surveillance was also sound.

The more Jack thought it over the more he was starting to think that Finch was not just an arrogant fool but also a poor leader and a poor motivator. Jack knew Finch didn’t want to go down to the moon with the squad; he’d tried to worm his way out of the job. He was only pissed at 6th squad because he feared for his life and 6th squad would have to fight to the death to keep his sorry ass alive.

“And who called in support?” Finch asked.

Jack raised his hand. Was Finch going to single him out for praise now and try and turn the squad against him?

“Is that how you respond to a fight, Forge? Run away and then call for someone else to fight for you?”

Jack guessed wrong. Finch was being an even bigger scroat. If one of his favorites had called the support, it might have been a different story. If it had been that krav ugly Terry then Finch might well have praised him.

“Answer me, Forge. You going to run from a fight?”

“Sir, no, sir,” Forge shouted.

“I don’t believe you Forge. And I can’t believe the captain is going to make me take a failed schoolboy down to that moon for this mission,” Finch growled. “We can make a difference on this mission. We can strike a blow for humanity. Smash a hole in the Chit fleet and send them scurrying back to their gas hole they call a world. But I can’t do it if you are going to run from a fight. You ready to try again?”

Jack shouted with everyone else. They were ready. They were ready for the real thing. These VR exercises were designed for new recruits and Marine training. This squad had been in the thick of the Chit army. They had already fought and died, and won. They’d beaten the Chits for real. It seemed somehow pointless to do it in VR.

“You better be ready, because we are going to do this again and again until the captain sends us down to that moon or until I think you look like a real squad of Marines. You get me?”

“We get you, sir,” the squad shouted, but Jack could only think of one thing and she was probably busy in the maintenance hangar. Jack hoped he would see her again before heading off on his mission. He’d seen enough Chits and enough of commander Finch. He hadn’t seen enough of Sarah Reyes.

7

Walking into the maintenance hangar, Jack felt like a stranger and like he was returning home. The only activity was at the far end, where Reyes was working on the immobilized Chitin soldier.

She jumped and yelled as Jack surprised her.

“I thought you’d been sent away with your squad,” she said, hand on her chest as it rose and fell rapidly.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Jack said, his feelings for Reyes rising.

“It’s this Chit,” Reyes said, turning back to the creature. “I’ve got a good handle on the controls.” Reyes demonstrated by moving the tentacles one at a time and then in combination. “I think I’ve got it now.” Then one tentacle suddenly coiled into a tight knot and two others thrashed about. “Krav it,” Reyes said. “I’ve nearly got it.” Another tentacle coiled up and then the fissure in the shell cracked open. “Krav it all,” Reyes said and powered down her control console. The tentacles fell limp and lifeless.

“That’s pretty impressive,” Jack said, looking at the Chitin.

“It will be when I can control it properly. It could be a chance to infiltrate the Chit forces. Finally stop them from killing us.”

Jack looked into the cavity that had recently been filled with purple slime.

“I cleaned out all that gunk,” Reyes said. “Not much of a job for someone with my skill set.”

Carefully reaching into his pocket, Jack found the small family watch. The gears of the delicate clockwork and the small hands were in constant danger of being damaged since Jack had destroyed the silver case during the Battle of Training Moon. He lay the small watch down in front of Reyes.

“Maybe this will give you a challenge,” he said.

Snatching up the watch, Reyes’s mouth fell wide open. “That’s amazing. Where did you find this?” She turned it over in her hands.

“It’s all that is left of my family,” Jack said. “It had a silver case once, but I had to melt it down.”

“Did you sell it?” Reyes ran her finger along the edge of the small white face.

“I bought something with it. It bought me airpower and victory at the Battle of Training Moon.”

Reyes handed the watch back to Jack. “Sounds like it’s your lucky charm. Better take it with you when you deploy with your squad.”

Jack closed Reyes’s hand around the watch and pressed it back to her. “Do me a favor. Make a case for it. Doesn’t have to be silver. Hull composite would be fine. Just keep the mechanism safe from damage.”

Looking again at the watch, this time with an eye for the work that would need to be done, Reyes nodded. She looked at Jack. “Why don’t you keep it until you get back? If you come back in one piece, we’ll fix it up with a case.”

“It needs a case more than I need a lucky charm,” Jack said. “And if I don’t make it back, you keep it. It’ll be good to know it’s with someone who can take good care of it.”

Reyes nodded. She threaded the watch over one of the fine antennae on the Chitin’s head. It slid through the mechanism down to the Chit’s smooth and shiny head. She turned and smiled at Jack. “It’ll be safe there, and I won’t lose it.” She placed her hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Good luck, Marine,” she said. “Make sure you take care of yourself. I’ll have the watch ready for you when you get back. Come and look me up. Okay?”

Jack gave Reyes a smart salute and turned on his heel. He marched to the door without a look back. He hoped he’d see Reyes again, but if he looked at her now, he might not be able to tear himself away. His squad was going on a mission and they needed every Marine. He didn’t like it, but they needed him. He was starting to feel like he belonged here on the Scorpio. He was starting to feel like he really was a Marine.

8

The squad stood in formation on the Marine deck, Jack taking his position on the right flank of the first row. They were all suited up in their meat suits, the helmet under the right arm. Their pulse rifles were slung over the left shoulder, various sidearms strapped to their hips and boots.

They stood in the 6th squad formation area marked out on the large Marine deck. The floor was color-coded for Adder, Boa, and Cobra companies, and within those areas were spaces for each of the twelve squads for each company. The areas for cobra squads seven through twelve had not been stood upon for some time. The Scorpio battalion was undermanned, just like every other department.

Commander Finch entered the Marine deck and paced over to 6th squad. He walked along the front rank.

“This mission is reconnaissance only,” Finch began. “So there will be no combat. Just as well.” Finch stopped in front of Jack. “I know some of you are not cut out for combat operations.” Finch walked on, his head held high and proud. “I’ll be leading you in the field. I expect order.” He turned at the end of the row and walked back. “I expect discipline.” He stopped in front of Jack again. “And you are all Marines, so I expect courage. Fail in any of these and I will be providing battlefield justice. Do you get me?”

“We get you, sir.”

“We will be setting down on the surface of Kratos. It is a brutal, desolate world. A detestable world. It is a world that wants to kill you. The pressure is so low that you might as well be in the vacuum of space. Exposure to that low-pressure environment will cause your blood to boil. The temperature is low enough to render you unconsciousness with hypothermia in moments. You will freeze even as your blood boils. If you survive long enough and manage to take a breath of that thin toxic atmosphere, the air will burn your lungs out of your chest at the first choking gasp. But you won’t see any of it because the radiation from Penthus will burn the skin from your body and burn out your delicate little eyes. You will be frozen, boiled, poisoned, and radiated to death all in a short enough time that no one will be able to save you, but a long enough time that you will be able to feel every agonizing effect.”

Finch marched back and forth, his voice echoing around the deck.

“This is why the squad has been issued with Marine Extreme Environment Tactical suits. This is your first mission using a meat suit. You will seal the suit once we board the landing craft and you won’t crack that seal until we are back aboard the Scorpio. Do you get me?”

“We get you, sir.”

“Move out,” Finch shouted.

Torent led the squad at a jogging pace. The squad ran from the Marine deck through the access to the Marine flight deck, an area of the Scorpio where the Marine landing craft was launched. The landing craft filled the small flight deck. The ramp was down and pointed toward the Marine deck access. Torent lead the squad up the ramp and into the hold.

The landing craft hold had an alcove for each member of cobra company. It seemed empty with only 6th squad taking up space. Jack stood in the first available alcove, the straps deployed automatically holding him in place. Torent stood in the next alcove.

“Helmets on,” Finch said, walking along the narrow gangway between the rows of alcoves.

Turning to Torent for a final word before he pulled on the helmet, Jack saw along the gangway to the open cockpit of the landing craft. He saw the pilot in the right seat prepping the craft for departure. And there in the co-pilot seat was a familiar face.

“Sam, have you seen who it is?” Jack asked.

Torent turned and looked to the cockpit. “Well, I’ll be kraved.”

“Bill Harts. How the krav did he get in the cockpit?”

“Are you having trouble hearing me, Marine? I said helmets on,” Finch shouted into Jack’s face.

Jack took one last look toward the cockpit, watching Bill Harts prepping the craft with the pilot. Jack knew he would have made an excellent pilot. His academics in engineering and his experience with machines would have made him a better choice. Being sent to maintenance had been an insult, but at least he’d met Reyes.

He pulled the helmet over his head. The helmet connected with the suit and Jack heard the seal form.

The visor view through the helmet was overlaid with enhancement data. Jack felt the cold fibers slither through the back of his skull at the top of his neck. Jack cried out as they drilled into his brain stem. Suddenly, Jack could access the suit’s tactical functions with the power of thought.

He turned and looked at Torent. The suit’s helmet was an opaque dark gray with darker lines across it. The visual overlay showed a name tag over Torent’s left shoulder. Squad Leader Torent.

“You look better with that helmet on,” Torent said.

“I would tell you to go krav yourself through an airlock, but I’ve got too much respect for your rank,” Jack replied.

“Say good-bye to the Scorpio, Marines,” Finch said as the landing craft lifted off the flight deck. Through the cockpit view screen up ahead, Jack saw the flight deck doors open to reveal the small pink moon of Kratos set in the vast black of outer space.

9

The last time Jack had set foot on solid, rocky ground was at the Battle of Training Moon. The Scorpio was solid enough, but a moon under his feet would feel good. Through the view screen, Jack watched Kratos grow larger as the landing craft raced toward it. The moon was pink with white wisps of acidic gas clouds drifting over the surface. From a distance it looked serene, welcoming, friendly even. Jack realized that the reality on the ground was going to be quite different; it was the only reason the hard-pressed Scorpio battalion would be authorized to use the meat suits.

The cockpit was more interesting than the moon for Jack. He watched the pilot operating the systems and the co-pilot Harts assisting. Harts reached out and flicked a switch. The pilot slapped Harts’s hand away from the instrument panel and returned the switch to its original position. The pilot pointed at another switch on the panel. Harts flicked that switch instead.

Jack wished he could hear the conversation between the two. Jack was sure he would hear Harts getting a grilling. He had clearly flicked the wrong switch and was being given a loud remedial lesson in landing craft operation.

The moon was huge now, filling the cockpit’s view screen. Jack guessed the pilot would soon have to slow the landing craft for orbit before plotting a landing trajectory. The pilot was jabbing a finger at the control panel. Harts was working the instruments as the pilot directed.

Watching the pilot’s and Harts’s every move, Jack guessed they were preparing for an orbital entry burn. Harts reached uncertainly for a lever. Jack thought it looked like the life support systems, not maneuvering thrusters. Again, the pilot slapped Harts’s hand away from the console as he reached for a control lever.

Jack watched as the pilot slapped Harts around the head. He jabbed his finger at Harts and was clearly telling Harts exactly what he thought of his piloting skills.

The gravity from the moon began to build on Jack’s body, and he felt himself drawn toward the pink moon growing ever larger in the view screen. A message from the pilot came over his suits’ intercoms.

“Cancelling orbital transition to landing. Proceeding direct to landing trajectory. The weather on our approach vector is chaotic so expect a bumpy ride. Putting you down right on the mark. Hold tight.”

The landing craft slammed into the thin atmosphere. Jack was thrown back against his alcove, the straps straining at the sudden increase in weight. Then the craft was thrown sideways before being thrown back to the other side.

“Activate the grav break.”

The pilot had either left his communicator on or had inadvertently switched it back on due to the sudden turbulence. Jack looked nervously at Harts, who was working slowly and clumsily.

“No, not that. Do you want to kill us all? That panel, there. The third switch left, the one marked Field.”

White thin clouds flashed by the view screen.

“Activate the grav break.”

The pilot was a frenzy of activity operating the landing craft and instructing his inadequate co-pilot. Landing was the most challenging part of any flight. The hammerings from the turbulence grew in strength and frequency. Jack could barely focus on the pilot and his work.

“De-polarize the hull. Can’t you even do that?”

The jagged bolts of lightning came up from the ground and struck the front of the landing craft. The blue lines of force crackled over the view screen. Jack had never seen lightning travel upward. Every planet in the system had its own strange twist on nature, but the reverse lightning was unexpected.

The surface of the moon began to drift as the landing craft went into a spin. The pilot reached out against the G-force, visibly straining to reach a switch that Jack thought was the emergency landing stabilizer. His finger touched the small switch and he snapped it over. The small panel behind it lit up green.

“Grav break, now. Slam it, for krav sake.”

A second major lightning strike blew out the view screen.

The only sound the pilot made for the next fifteen seconds was heavy breathing as he worked frantically to do his best to slow and stabilize the landing craft. It seemed to be an impossible task as Jack saw the surface race ever closer. The landing craft slammed into the moon belly first.

The straps holding Jack in his alcove stretched under his weight. The suit’s power was diverted to the vertical stabilization support field. Jack’s display dimmed as power was diverted from all other systems. The strap at Jack’s left shoulder reached its breaking point, the frayed, threaded composite snapping.

Jack slammed sideways as the strap failed. The landing craft was down. 6th squad was deployed to Kratos.

10

Jack released himself from the remaining straps and stepped out of the alcove. He looked along the line of Marines opposite. The enhancement data showed him the names and status of his squad-mates. Directly opposite was Osho. Her heart rate was high, but she was alive and ready for action. She nodded at Jack as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Next to her stood Terry. He was also fit. He shoved Jack’s hand away as he held it out in an offer of support.

“I can stand on my own two feet, Forge,” Terry spat.

“Where’s the commander?” Torent unclipped himself and stepped out of his alcove. “Terry, find the commander. Make sure he’s okay. Forge, check the cockpit. Osho, you’re with me. Let’s check these Marines.”

Jack picked his way along the narrow gangway to the cockpit. Harts was unstrapping himself from his co-pilot seat. “Bill,” Jack called out, “you need to assist the pilot and isolate the craft from flight operations.”

“It’s no good. Krav it. The pilot is no good.” Harts was babbling to himself.

“There’s nothing wrong with the pilot,” Jack said harshly. He’d watched Harts and the pilot at work and from what Jack knew, the pilot was the only man on board who had saved them from a catastrophic crash landing, while Harts had been a hindrance at best and a culpable liability at worse.

Unclipping himself and twisting out of the seat, Harts came tumbling forward toward Jack. He barreled into Jack and then reached up to his helmet, tugging at it.

“What the krav,” Jack said. “Don’t take that off, Bill.” Jack grabbed Harts’s hands and pulled them away from his helmet. “We don’t know if the hull is still sealed. Any breach and the air in here is death. You’ll be dead in a second.”

“Dead. Dead.” Harts pushed Jack away.

Jack shoved Harts toward another Marine. “Make sure he keeps that helmet on,” Jack said. He looked toward the cockpit and stepped forward.

The enhanced data overlay on Jack’s view showed that the pilot was dead, impaled on a thin composite pipe that had burst upward from the conduit channel below the cockpit. The black conduit had stabbed up through the pilot’s seat, through his central body mass and out the neck just to the right of his head. Blood oozed out and evaporated in the thin, low-pressure atmosphere.

“Report, Marine.” Finch stepped up behind Jack.

Reaching out to secure the craft and isolate flight functions, Jack reported the grim news. “The pilot is dead, Commander. Ship secured. There is a hull breach somewhere. A few secondary systems have taken a beating. I don’t think we are in any immediate danger.”

“Can you drop the access ramp from there?”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Jack turned to Finch. The data showed that Finch was unhurt, but his heart rate was high. Jack guessed the commander had not crash-landed recently, if ever, at least not outside of a simulation.

Jack dropped the ramp, letting out the remaining fresh air and letting in the dull brown light of the gas giant high in the sky overhead.

“All right. Listen up, Marines. Form up outside. Double time.” Finch tugged at the thin conduit protruding from the pilot’s neck, then turned to Jack and asked, “Is that a problem?”

Jack studied the conduit and then the instrument panel. It was a secondary plating data transfer conduit. “It is not affecting any flight system. The ship should be able to fly,” Jack said.

Finch nodded. “Get that dead pilot out of the cockpit, Marine. I don’t want to be fussing over that corpse if we need to get out of here quickly.”

* * *

The squad was sitting around on the ground outside the landing craft. Finch was on one knee, a holomap spread out in air in front of him and Torent at his side studying the map.

“Is that cockpit clear, Marine?” Finch said as Jack came down the ramp.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Okay, listen up, Marines. We are going to scout this moon and get back aboard the Scorpio pronto. Squad leader, set perimeter guards at two hundred meters from this point. Forge, you can assist the co-pilot and scout the moon with the landing craft.” Finch cancelled the map display and stood up. “Co-pilot, you have the pilot’s chair. Go. Now.”

Harts wandered toward Jack and the landing craft ramp. Jack stayed standing where he was and prevented Harts from walking inside the craft.

“Commander. If we use the landing craft to scout the moon, we will alert any Chits to our presence. We should scout on foot and stay hidden.”

“It’ll be much quicker, Jacky,” Torent said, stepping up next to Finch.

Finch advanced toward Jack, finger pointed at his chest. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Marine. Now get that landing craft airborne and scout the area.”

“If we were sent to conduct an aerial scout mission, we would have been equipped with drones.”

“Are you hoping to stay out of trouble? Are you hoping to cower in some corner, or maybe on a nearby hill? That’s your style, isn’t it, Marine? I won’t run this mission and deal with your cowardice. You will get a hold of yourself and function like a Marine. But if you want to find yourself strapped to a flogging post on the Marine deck, you keep on disobeying me. Is that understood?”

“Sir,” Jack went on. “The landing craft is not a suitable vehicle for an aerial reconnaissance. We can’t be sure we’ve properly cleared the area.”

“I will decide when the area is clear, Marine. Now get in that cockpit and survey the area.” Finch rubbed away some of the moon’s pink sandy soil from his suit.

Jack received a message. He accessed the message on his helmets comms. It was Torent.

“Get that crate in the air, you dumb ass. I don’t want to watch you get flogged, again.”

Bill Harts pushed Jack up the ramp. “Get up there, Forge. I’ll show you how to get this thing off the ground.”

Jack couldn’t believe the stupidity all around him. Checking the area using the landing craft was a surefire way of alerting any Chits to their presence. The Chit home world was on the far side of the system currently, but there was no reason to believe they wouldn’t have an observation post on this moon themselves. If it was such a good location for a surveillance base, then surely the Chits would know that too. And they had been in this system far longer than humans, they had a huge advantage. Scouting from the air was dangerous and stupid.

And as for Harts suggesting he would school Jack on flying the landing craft after that horrible display of co-piloting, he was stupid and deluded. Jack was caught between idiots all determined to put him in deadly peril.

“Let’s get this thing off the ground,” Jack said and walked toward the cockpit. At least he would get to fly a spacecraft. That was something, even if it might be the death of him.

* * *

The landing craft lurched into the air. Harts sat in the pilot’s chair and instructed Jack. It was possible to fly this craft from the co-pilot’s chair, but Jack had to listen to the ramblings of an incompetent pilot. Jack did his best.

The landing craft was a basic supply vessel design, customized for troop transport. It was small enough to fit inside a destroyer but large enough to cram a company of Fleet Marines inside. It was, however, totally inappropriate for surveillance operation. It was big and slow. The scanning systems were suitable for landing and docking, but nowhere near the level required for identifying hidden Chit soldiers.

It was relatively easy for Jack to fly. If only Harts would help. But Harts was arrogant and overconfident, even given his recent poor performance. How had Harts gotten into the flight deck? He was nowhere near as capable as Jack.

“Not as easy as it looks, is it?” Harts said as the raft was rocked by a sudden atmospheric disturbance. Jack navigated through the turbulence, keeping the craft steady.

It was virtually impossible to tolerate Harts. The man was devious, a cheat, and a liar. Jack suspected he had a cruel or even psychopathic streak. He would set people up for a fall, not for any personal gain but just to watch them tumble. Jack could not forget how Harts had set him and Sam Torent against each other. Harts had cleverly manipulated them just for the pleasure of watching two Marines come to blows. It could have ended badly for either Jack or Torent. And if Harts didn’t watch his mouth now, it would end badly for him. Jack was not going to tolerate this idiot.

“It would be a lot easier to fly this thing if you helped out,” Jack said.

“I am helping you, old buddy,” Harts said. “I’m instructing you. You might get good.”

Jack felt a rush of irritation at the word buddy. It grew to anger at the suggestion that Harts could instruct him. It peaked at full blown fury as he heard Harts say he might get good. Jack was a better pilot, a better engineer, and a better Marine than Bill Harts. Even though Jack had never wanted to join the Marines, he knew he was better than Harts. A sudden pang of humility slowed Jack. He bit his lip and accepted his situation; stuck on a moon with Bill kravin’ Harts trying to instruct him.

Jack had always stayed away from the kids who wanted to join the military. Jack had only ever wanted to build machines and fix machines. Machines were easy to understand. Someone like Harts was impossible to grasp. The guy just didn’t function and Jack was damned if he knew how to fix him. But in the short time he’d been training with the Fleet Marines, Jack thought he knew how to shut Harts up. One more word, Jack thought, just one more word and...

“Don’t let the nose dip, rookie.”

“Don’t speak to me, Bill.” Jack twisted in his seat, one hand on the controls. “You are the worst kind of nasty scroat. You wouldn’t know if the nose on this craft was dipped, raised, or jammed up your ass. Now shut the krav up and let me fly this circuit.”

“You don’t know this ship, Jack. I’ve been learning it for days…”

“You wouldn’t know the primary coil from the lift plate.” Jack turned his attention back to the view screen.

The moon was a strange world. The pink surface was cute at first glance, but it soon became a violent assault on the eyes. The moon had the appearance of a pink forest. The surface grew upward in twisting, branching towers that ended with fine cobweb-like structures.

The moon interacted with the gas giant Penthos and created a dense golden aurora that shimmered across the brown sky. Jack ignored the strangely beautiful view and focused on keeping the landing craft level and steady. It was too easy to let the view take over Jack’s focus. He would love to push the landing craft to speed and follow the lines of the aurora, joy riding high above the surface of Kratos. But this was not entertainment, this was business. This was Marine business, and Jack had a responsibility to his team.

“The scanners on this boat are set on too wide a beam,” Jack said. “Refocus them for me, Harts.”

“Scanner focus is fine,” Harts said.

“It’s that panel there,” Jack said, pointing to the relevant touch screen. “Access scanner control and reset for a narrow beam. As narrow as it will go.”

“You do it,” Harts said.

“Can you take over the flight controls?” Jack was nervous about letting Harts have control. How had Harts even been selected for flight operations? If anyone should have been sent to the laundry aboard the Scorpio, it was Harts.

“I can fly this ship,” Harts said haughtily. “If you can’t handle the scanning, maybe you shouldn’t be flying.”

Jack didn’t know how long he could hold off hitting Harts. “Take control in three, two...” Jack left the controls. He was going to adjust the scan focus in as short a time as possible. It was true he would have to fly more lines to cover the area, but it did mean he could fly the landing craft. It was exciting and interesting; it was almost worth putting up with Bill Harts.

“Scanners refocused. We’re getting much better data already.” Jack looked out at the strange world below. He would never have been here, flying over this surface, if he had not been drafted. He would never be glad to have been dropped from his university course, but this was something special. And he was working on machines he could only study in simulations back in university on Eros. Jack had never wanted to be a Marine, but was starting to feel like he didn’t have any other options.

Harts hit a bad patch of turbulence that thrust the landing craft a hundred meters down to the surface in a second. He struggled with the controls and overcompensated. The craft lurched upward, the nose raised so much the craft was sitting almost vertically.

“Ease off. Level her off,” Jack shouted. He reached out toward the flight controls, fighting the G-force that was holding him back. “Let me take control.”

“Hands off, Jack,” Harts said as he struggled to regain control.

“Let me take control,” Jack said as the nose dipped forward, pointing the craft directly at the moon below. “We’re too steep. The coil will flip out if you throw it back again.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Jack could see that Harts had lost control. The craft began to tumble and then went into a spin. Jack was pinned to the side of his seat. Jack could not reach the primary flight controls. Harts was pinned in his seat. They were both passengers now.

Jack spotted the ramp controls on his left. If he could deploy the ramp, it might slow their spin enough for him to regain control. The AI refused to let Jack open the ramp. Jack pulled his sidearm off his hip and pointed it at the console. He steadied himself and aimed carefully. If he missed, he would never regain control and the craft and his body would be scattered over half the moon’s surface. If he got his aim just right...

Jack fired and smashed open the AI central unit. He dug inside and removed the main AI override system node. The AI was now a passenger too. Jack resent his request for the ramp to be deployed.

The screaming rush of air told Jack that the ramp was opening. The first tiny crack in the hull as the ramp deployed turned the hold of the landing craft into a huge wind instrument. The screeching high-pitched tone pierced Jack’s ears. If he hadn’t been wearing his helmet, it would have exploded his ear drums. Then, as the ramp opened a fraction more, the wind resistance grew suddenly and jerked the craft out of its spin. Jack was slammed back against the other side of his chair.

A data stream across his helmet told him he was nearing a concussed state. He was rapidly becoming hypoxic due to G-forces acting on his body. He instructed his suit to increase oxygen concentration and suit pressure to force some oxygen into his system. Then he reached out again toward the flight controls. All he needed to do was fire a controlled trust and he could steady the boat.

Harts was slumped in his chair. The data displayed across Jack’s helmet as he looked at Harts told Jack what he already knew, that co-pilot William Harts was unconscious.

“At least now you are ballast,” Jack said aloud, wishing Harts could hear. “Best job you’ve done all day.” Jack reached out and hit the thrust.

The G-force subsided. Jack leveled the craft and put it on the correct surveillance altitude. He accessed the ramp controls, hoping they would still function. He didn’t know if they had been damaged by their unorthodox deployment, or if they had been ripped away completely. The ramp controls responded and informed him that the ramp was closing. A glance over his shoulder and Jack saw the ramp shut and close out the dull light from Penthos, returning the hold to dark.

Jack sat back in his seat and looked out at the planet. He was thousands of meters off course. He guessed he would be flying the landing craft a bit longer than he’d first thought, and with Harts unconscious, he would have a nice quiet time of it.

The calm was short-lived. A siren alarm sounded, echoing around the empty hold, as the craft suffered a total loss of power. It returned momentarily and gave the craft a sudden push. The power failed and returned again, pushing the craft across the sky on one lurching movement after another. Jack glanced at the altitude reading. He didn’t need to, he could see the strange forest-like structures of the surface racing up toward him.

Jack set the craft for a crash landing. Hopefully, some of the emergency landing safety measures were still functioning.

The pink branching structures disintegrated as the craft crashed into them. They exploded in a cloud of pink sand and dust as the landing craft crashed to the ground and skidded through the tree-like towers, carving a path across the surface of Kratos.

11

“Get up. Get up.” Jack unclipped the straps holding Harts in his seat, his undeserved pilot’s seat. Harts looked at Jack with a mixture of fear and accusation.

“You crashed the ship?” Harts said as he recoiled from Jack.

“Get up, Bill.” Jack grabbed Harts under the arm and pulled him out of the seat. “I need your help.”

“Why should I help you?” Harts sat back in his seat and tried activating the landing craft elevation systems.

“Don’t play with that,” Jack said, grabbing Harts’s hands and pulling them away from the control panel. “The boat’s been damaged. We need to assess the extent of that damage before we can even try and get airborne.”

“And what would you know about it?” Harts shouted at Jack. “You thought you were so special, like you could fly this thing on your own. Well, look where that got us.” Harts reached out again for the elevation systems control.

“I didn’t crash this boat, I almost saved it from your incompetence.” Jack was furious with Harts, not just for his inability to fly the landing craft, not just for getting the posting to fly the Marine landing crafts ahead of Jack. Jack was still angry with Harts for stealing his watch and putting the finger of blame on Torent. Jack knew punching Harts would have no effect, though, since the suit would deflect any blow.

Jack checked the flight data and error reports in the lander’s console. A gun camera showed the wild flight the landing craft had been on, spinning, lurching and stalling. Jack spotted a dark shape on the horizon of one of the images. A dark tower that stood out from the pink sand towers.

“What’s that?” Jack re-ran the images and zoomed in on the structure. There was a pattern on the surface of that structure, difficult to make out but it reminded Jack of the fine twisting lines that he’d seen on the Chitin that Reyes had been working on in the maintenance hangar. “Is that... Is that a Chitin structure?”

“Chits?” Harts tutted. “Sounds like you are still scared after our little skirmish on the training moon. You heard the commander, there are no Chits here. The area is clear.”

“You think the fleet has never made a mistake before? Get up.” Jack pulled Harts out of his seat and pushed him toward the exit.

Harts moved unwillingly, but Jack encouraged him with a series of shoves. “I know you are a lousy Marine, Harts,” Jack said, giving another shove, “but you are all I have to work with. We need to scout the area and check for enemy, and we need to check the boat for damage.”

“We should just head back to base camp,” Harts said, resisting another shove from Jack. “I know better than to listen to an order from a known mutineer.”

Jack felt his anger at Harts rising again. He was right, Jack had a record for insurrection. But Harts was the worst kind of traitor, undermining trust between people who should be allies, and sowing division between friends. Harts was worse than any dissenting voice, he was a parasite sucking the life out of the Marines with his devious and malicious scheming.

Harts opened a channel. “Commander Finch.” Harts looked at Jack, daring him to interrupt.

Jack knew that any attempt to stop Harts now would lead to the nasty little rodent spinning a tale where Jack was attempting to prevent Harts doing his duty and reporting to Finch.

“Finch here. Go ahead, Harts.”

“Forge crashed the landing craft, sir. He wants to scout on foot.”

Jack felt the fury rise in him. In essence, what Harts had told Finch was true. However, there were huge chunks of missing information, but Jack had no doubt that Finch would accept Harts’s assessment. Any report that further condemned Jack would be a welcome report in Finch’s eyes.

“Scout the area?” Finch shouted. “Negative. Terminate scout action immediately. Your priority is to get that landing craft in the air.”

“Sir,” Jack said, “I want to clear the area before burying my head in the engine assembly.”

“Negative, Forge. The Scorpio has checked the moon from orbit. We are clear. Patch up that landing craft, and continue your scouting mission. That is your priority.”

“But, sir, if the Chits are nearby, they will fire on us the moment we get airborne. And they will know we are here.”

“The area is clear,” Finch said.

“If the area has been cleared then what the krav are we doing on the ground?” Jack exploded with frustration.

“What you are doing is fixing that landing craft, Marine, and if you attempt to fly a craft you are not rated for again, I will have you before a court marshal for insurrection. Do not leave the crash site. Assess any damage and take steps to make repairs. And if you cannot fix the craft, I will have to call the Scorpio for extraction. And you can be sure I will tell them that you have jeopardized the mission and trashed a significant piece of military hardware. Follow my orders, Forge, or believe me, I will see you flogged until the skin hangs from your back. Do you get me?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jack shouted.

“Harts, oversee operations there. Forge, fix my landing craft.”

Harts stood in front of Jack and jabbed a finger into Jack’s chest. “You heard the commander...”

Jack grabbed the finger and twisted it. “I heard you too. The flight recorder will tell everyone who was in control and what happened on that flight. Your incompetence put us in danger and I saved us. If I hadn’t been fighting so hard to regain control of the boat, we might have been destroyed.” Jack released Harts’s finger. “You assess the damage. I’m scouting the area. Try and work out what systems are damaged on the boat. I’ll make a start on repair when I get back.”

“The commander ordered you to fix the landing craft.” Harts spoke, but his voice lacked any degree of conviction.

“We need to fix the boat for sure. But if you tell Finch I’ve gone off mission, you will regret it, Harts. If I’m right, you’ll be glad I went and checked it out. I will be responsible for saving your worthless ass twice in one day.” Jack leaned close to Harts. “You already owe me. Start paying it back.”

Jack swung up his pulse rifle and ran off through the pink trunks of the Kratos sand forest.

* * *

The sandy surface made for a heavy running track, but activating his power assist helped Jack maintain a steady pace. The sand clung to his boots and gathered in clumps that he had to periodically pull away. The sand trees that grew out of the surface created a labyrinth of strange branching pillars that Jack had to weave between.

Stopping for a moment to check his sightlines, Jack leaned against a sand tree. He pushed a clump of the pink sand out of the trunk. The sand was clinging together the same way as it clung to his boots. It was how these huge towering and branching sand trees were built. An electrostatic charge on the grains was creating and sculpting this pink sand forest.

It was a strange world and Jack began to doubt what he had seen in the landing craft camera. The dark tower could have been anything.

“You know what you saw,” Jack said to himself, scanning between the trunks through his pulse rifle sights. “Don’t go second guessing yourself now. That was a Chitin structure alright.”

Jack checked his suit’s biomonitors. He needed to hydrate. He activated the water tube in his helmet and allowed himself a small sip, just enough to wet his dry mouth. Then he was off again, running through the pink sand trees.

Running was always a pleasure, even in this strange, sticky sand. He felt free when he was running and almost forgot the reasons why. He dropped to a knee and scanned the area again.

Through the trees, he spotted a movement—a black slithering movement. Maybe it was shadows cast through the forest by a cloud overhead. Maybe. Jack trusted his instincts. He knew what he had seen. It was a Chit. He would recognize that motion anywhere, no matter how hidden. Just the merest glimpse of those tentacles, that long head with the antenna flicking about, every part of the creatures was burned onto his mind. He was alert to the merest flicker of Chit activity.

Jack adopted a prone position and took cover behind one of the thick pink trees. He knew the structure of these trees was tenuous, only being held together by some electrostatic charge or a slight surface tension. It was not substantial enough to resist a Chit plasma spear, but it would hide him from sight.

Jack watched carefully and then he saw the dark slithering shape again. It was a Chitin soldier alright. The writhing tentacles moved it across the pink sands. Jack noticed that the grains didn’t stick to the Chit like they did to his boots. If it came to a running battle, the Chits would have another advantage. It came as no surprise that the sand forest was against the Marines as well as the Chits.

Jack noticed that the sand grains in front of him were creeping up over his arms and he propped himself up off the floor. He wasn’t sinking. The grains were climbing. He pulled his arm upward and came free of the sand effortlessly, the grains simply falling away to the ground, leaving tiny sand trees on the surface, like a miniature forest where his arm had been. The distraction nearly cost him.

The Chit soldier moved across Jack’s field of view again as he ducked for cover. It looked like the alien was moving along a predetermined path. Jack watched from his position until he saw the pattern. The Chit was moving slowly back and forth as if on sentry duty.

Jack scanned the area to the Chit’s left and right, searching for other sentries. He couldn’t spot any from this position. He waited until the Chit was out of view and began moving to his right, taking care not to give away his position.

Jack moved quickly and carefully, searching for the next sentry. After moving five hundred meters to his right, he decided the Chit was a lone sentry. There must be very few Chits on the surface for there to only be one sentry. Maybe it was a lone Chit, in which case Jack could kill it and be done. But maybe the others were advancing on the crash site. Maybe there were so few Chits that they couldn’t attack the crash site, a craft that might have contained a whole company of Marines.

Jack needed to move in and find out more.

* * *

With the suit’s perimeter sensors set to maximum, Jack lost much of the system’s accuracy. What he lost in precision, however, he gained in distance. The Chit sentries were displayed on Jack’s enhanced data view as small dark blurs. He picked his way between them and closed in on whatever they were guarding. By analyzing the sentry patrol pattern, he deduced they were circling a perimeter five hundred meters around a central point. Jack closed in on that point.

At two hundred meters out, Jack reached the rim of a circular depression in the moon’s surface. He looked down into the depression. There in the center of the sand trees stood the dark monolith with Chitin soldiers scurrying around the wide base.

The monolith was constructed with glowing nodules and channels wound about its surface. The Chit soldiers moving around monolith touched the nodules with their tentacles, causing color changes to flash about the channels.

Jacked searched his suit’s database for a listing on the Chit structure. No listing was found. This was a new piece of equipment previously unknown to the military.

Jack requested a count on the Chit numbers from his suit’s scanners. Counting the Chits moving around the structure in the depression and the Chit sentries moving around it, the total was only eight. Chits were never found in such low numbers. They would be an easy target for 6th squad.

One of the Chits moving around the device wrapped a tentacle around a nodule. It came away from the monolith. Another Chit joined the first and together, they pulled and stretched the nodule. It morphed into a long tube structure. The first Chit took the tube and laid it over one of the monolith’s glowing channels.

Whatever it was the Chits were doing, Jack knew they needed to be stopped. The monolith was probably military in nature. Jack made an assessment; the device was either a weapon or a communication device.

But why so few Chits, Jack thought. If this was a weapon, then there would be a garrison here to service and protect it. If it was a communication device, they could soon be able to call on support. Jack couldn’t take down all eight Chits alone. He needed support from his squad.

Running back through the forest toward the landing craft crash site, Jack kept his scanners on maximum range on the lookout for more Chits. The way was clear and Jack covered it at a sprint, the meat suit assisting Jack’s muscles.

The landing craft looked just as he had left it. In fact, it looked exactly how he’d left it. “Damn you, Harts,” Jack shouted. “You haven’t even made a start on the boat.”

Jack walked around the landing craft before heading inside. “Where the hell are you hiding, Harts?” Jack walked into the cockpit. Empty. He walked along the hold and checked the alcove. “Harts? Where are you?” The ship was empty. Jack used the lander’s scanners to boost his suit’s scan range and scanned the area for Harts. Nothing.

“Damn it.” Jack slung his pulse rifle over his shoulder. He opened a channel to Commander Finch.

* * *

“What do you mean he’s missing?” Finch’s voice crackled over Jack’s helmet speaker.

“He was gone when I got back, sir.” Jack bit his lip as he realized he’d dropped himself in the krav.

“Got back? I ordered you to fix the landing craft, Marine.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“But you left. Where, tell me, Marine, did you go?”

“We’re not alone, sir. I found a nest of Chits. Don’t know what they are doing, but I bet it’ll be bad for us.”

The channel crackled for a few moments. Jack waited for Finch to chew him out some more.

“Fix the landing craft, Marine. Do you get me? And send a message to the Scorpio using the lander’s comm. The comm systems on these suits are not cutting through the field on this moon. Give them the coordinates of that nest and request they flame those Chits.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Jack hoped the Scorpio could target the Chits accurately. He didn’t want the lander to get hit. He didn’t want to become a permanent resident.

“And watch out for my approach,” Finch added. “I’m bringing the squad up to the lander.”

“Understood,” Jack replied. Finch must be getting nervous, Jack thought. The commander didn’t like to be too far from his ride home.

Jack climbed into the landing craft and made his way back to the cockpit. The lander’s power systems were still operational. Jack opened a channel to the Scorpio. He sent an opening shout and waited for the Scorpio to respond. Knowing he would have a few moments, Jack activated the scanners. He could scan the area for Harts. Perhaps he was sightseeing, although there was nothing to see once you had marveled at the strange sand tree structures. The lander’s scanners were more powerful than his meat suit’s scanners, but only when the craft was airborne. Sitting on the ground, it was only a little better. Jack set the scanners on their widest beam. It gave the furthest reach, the two and a half kilometers to Kratos’s horizon. If Harts was within that area, he would appear as a fuzzy dark blob.

The only reading to come back was the activity from the sentry Chitin moving around the small construction site in that small depression. Maybe Harts was in a similar depression and out of sight of the scanners. He guessed if he could launch a drone or a probe vertically, he could get a better view and maybe find Harts.

Jack searched the inventory for anything that could fly above the lander and be used to extend sensor range. There was nothing. Not even a supply of nanodrones. Jack slumped back in his chair and considered his options. He would have to fix the lander if he was going to search for Harts. The devious little scroat didn’t deserve to be found. Jack should leave him behind. But Harts was still a Marine, and Jack knew he couldn’t abandon him.

The opening shout was still blinking on the console. It was still unanswered. If the Scorpio was on the far side of Kratos then the signal would not reach them. But surely the Scorpio would be holding a geostationary orbit above the ground team. Jack checked the comm and resent the opening shout, then started to work on the ship.

The lander diagnostic reports on the console showed Jack that the damage to the craft was serious but not devastating. He could see a few ways he could work around the problem. Some systems would have to be bypassed, some would have to be boosted, one lift compression filter would have to be removed. That was going to create a bumpy ride and the emergency alarms would complain loudly and constantly all the way back to the Scorpio, but at least they could make it back to the Scorpio, maybe.

Jack checked the opening shout again. Still no channel. He climbed out of the pilot’s seat and went to make a start on jury-rigging the boat.

12

Captain Pretorius ran onto the command deck, his open jacket flapping as he moved. “Mister Chou, report.”

“We’ve detected three small Chitin craft speeding in. Kraken class ships, sir. They are on a course for Kratos orbit insertion. They may have already detected us, but none are moving to intercept.”

The holostage showed three distant points and their predicted course. “Action stations, Mister Chou. Deploy combat drones. Move the Scorpio behind the horizon. If we are going to take these Chits down, we are going to have to take them before they know we are here.”

A command deck communication officer called out that he’d received an opening shout from the landing craft on the surface.

Pretorius looked at the holostage and the incoming Chit Krakens. He looked at Commander Chou.

“The Chitins will hear us if we respond, Captain.”

Pretorius looked back to the holostage. “Move the ship, Mister Chou. Put us behind Kratos and out of sight of those Chitins.”

“Aye, Captain. Drones deployed. Armed and holding. Ship moving now.”

“Captain,” the communications officer called out again. “We have a repeat of the opening shout from the landing craft.”

“Send no response. All communication channels on silent now.” Pretorius calmed the young communication officer. “The ground team will have to look after themselves for a short while. There are some good Marines down there. They can hold out for now.”

Pretorius watched the holostage and the small points of the Chitin craft. They had moved in fast, but now were slowing for orbital insertion just as the Scorpio was slipping behind the moon, almost hidden.

An alarm sounded across the command deck. Pretorius buttoned up his jacket.

“Sir, three more craft speeding in toward Kratos from the opposite side to the first three. Kraken class, sir. They are the Chits that like to clamp on to the hull, sir.” Commander Chou rushed to the next side of the holostage to check the status of the combat drones. “Permission to launch another flight of combat drones, Captain.”

“Negative.” Pretorius tugged his cuffs. “Put us in high polar orbit. Present the starboard battery to the first three Krakens. Target the second flight with port battery. Ventral battery, target lead craft. Make ready to give fire.” Pretorius’s voice grew in volume and intensity. Officers were thrown into rapid and intense activity. “Full speed now, Mister Chou. Power to every gun. Activate the combat drones and send them on a flanking maneuver against those Chits.”

Major Cruz entered the command deck with a security detail. He posted them at points across the command deck and then joined Pretorius and Chou at the holostage.

“Good of you to join us, Major.” Pretorius pointed to the holostage. “Chitin craft approaching Kratos. We are moving the Scorpio behind the moon and deploying combat drones.”

“Captain,” Commander Chou’s voice quivered. “The Chits have moved to intercept. The second flight too. They are closing in from both sides.”

Pretorius moved across the holostage and accessed fire control. “Wait for them to come into range, Mister Chou. Inform the gun teams to use their ammunition well. I want red dots on this holostage. Give me Chit kills.”

* * *

Slim sat on the work bench behind Sarah Reyes. He sipped hooch from a small silver hip flask. He pulled off the flask with a growling gasp, his lips pulled back over his teeth. He shuddered and then took another nip.

Sarah Reyes leaned against her bench with the Chitin behind her looking up at her colleague. “You got work, Slim?”

Slim nodded and held up the flask. He sipped again, gasped and winced, then offered the flask to Reyes.

Reyes wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’ve still got a few bits and pieces to work out about this Chit. I think I could almost pilot the thing.”

Slim put his flask away and jumped off the bench. He stuck his head toward the Chit. “Pilot it? Is it a spaceship?”

“It’s a suit,” Reyes said, turning to the Chit. “But it works like a small one-man, or one-Chit, craft. Not unlike the meat suits our Marines use.”

“So, are you going to go running around the ship, scaring the junior officers with this? That’s some Halloween outfit, Reyes.”

Reyes grabbed a tentacle and flicked it toward Slim. The tall man recoiled as the tentacle came toward him.

“Hey, knock it off, Rey,” Slim said.

“Knock it off and get back to work, Slim.” Master Doyle came marching into the maintenance hangar, George on his heels. “That life support system in green eight corridor isn’t going to fix itself. I’ve got crewmen complaining about bad air.”

Slim turned toward Doyle and nodded. “Just taking a breather. Me and my new friend.”

Reyes draped a Chit tentacle over Slim’s shoulder and he stroked it like a pet.

“Stop fooling around and get that air fixed.” Doyle stepped up to the bench.

“On my way, Master Doyle, sir.” Slim gave a smart salute and walked off, ruffling George’s hair as he left.

“And you need to leave your little friend alone, Rey.” Doyle poked the Chitin. “I have a limited staff, kid, and I can’t spare you any longer.”

“I’ve nearly got it all worked out, sir. Just a few more hours and...”

“You will have to use your off hours. You can keep it on the bench but...”

The alarm echoed across the wide maintenance hangar. The hangar door shut with a screech and a bang. George shuffled up alongside Doyle.

Reyes ran over to the hangar’s communication display. “We have moved to action stations. All non-combat personnel to hold station and wait for orders.”

“Okay.” Doyle looked at the Chit. “Show me what you can do with this thing.”

* * *

“You are using up all my ordnance, Mister Chou, but we are not recording any kills.” Pretorius watched the holostage intently.

“These Kraken class craft are too fast, sir. They are evading the guns on the main battery. They are coming into range of our kinetic hail cannons now, Captain. We’ll have them in a moment.”

“Deploy another flight of combat drones and target the second group of Chitins.” Pretorius spoke in a calm tone that hid his inner turmoil.

“Drones away, Captain,” Chou replied, his voice mostly calm but with a slight quiver of tension.

The new group of signals appeared on the holostage, a flight of six combat drones, all streaking away from the Scorpio toward the second group of Chitin craft. The fire from the hail cannons showed up on the holostage as a red mist spreading out from the destroyer. The combat drones’ flight kept them under the hail of kinetic rounds.

A cheer went up from the officers around the command deck as the first Chit kills were recorded. The first flight of Chitin craft collided with the kinetic hail and blinked from the display, each leaving a fading red dot.

“Good work, Mister Chou,” Pretorius shouted enthusiastically. “Make good and sure that second group are lit up red too.”

The signal from the six combat drones came in as they were detonated short of their targets. Their detonation wiped a clearing through the red mist of kinetic hail.

“Misfire, Mister Chou? Did you cut the fuses short on those drones?”

“No, Captain.” Chou moved across the holostage and accessed the report from the drone. “Looks like they were sent a detonation code.”

“Who sent that?” Pretorius accessed communication data, searching for the signal.

“I have it, Captain. Time delay on the signal shows it must have originated from the Chit craft, sir.”

Pretorius watched as the Krakens maneuvered into the gap created in the kinetic hail by the drones’ premature detonation.

“All guns on that group of Chits. You’ve got a few seconds to make an impact on them, Mister Chou.” Pretorius tugged at his cuffs. “Major Cruz, deploy your battalion throughout the ship. Stand by to repel boarders.”

13

The panels were stripped out and Jack had already bypassed the necessary systems to achieve lift off before Finch and 6th squad arrived at the crash site.

“Report, Marine.” Finch strode up the ramp into the hold.

“I’ve almost completed repairs, sir.” Jack stood up and stepped back to check his work. “Still need to replace a few panels and we’ll be ready to take off. It would be good if we had an electron scalpel handy.”

“I asked for a report, not complaints,” Finch said, looking at Jack’s work. “Did you notify the Scorpio of our situation?”

“No response from the Scorpio, sir.” Jack realized this was perhaps the most important piece of information he should have given. He braced himself for a tirade from Finch.

“Any sign of our missing Marine?”

Jack hesitated. Did Finch not realize what he’d been told about the Scorpio being silent? “No word from Harts either, sir.”

Finch looked at the repairs and made clicking noises with this tongue in his check. He called for Torent.

“Set up a perimeter and get someone on the horn to the Scorpio. Keep sending until they respond.”

Torent gave Jack an inquiring look. Jack was reluctant to give Torent all the details in front of Finch. The commander should have brought at least the squad leader up to speed on events, and Jack didn’t want to annoy Finch by telling Torent in front of the commander.

“Forge, I want you to take me to this Chitin nest.” Finch’s voice wobbled noticeably as he spoke. He covered his nervousness by marching off down the ramp, shouting for Jack to hurry and follow.

Walking slowly, but loudly enough for Finch to hear him coming, Jack turned to Torent. “Harts is missing. Scorpio not answering. Probably comm silence because of those Chits out there. The boat is ready to fly but it’ll be a rough trip. Don’t fire her up unless you have to.”

“On me, Forge,” Finch shouted again.

Jack led Commander Finch through the sand trees toward the Chitin site. The footprints that he had left only a short while ago were gone. The sand had flowed back into the markings and was growing up into small versions of the massive towering structures that covered the surface.

“I’m not picking them up on my scanners,” Finch said.

Jack dropped to his knee and pointed with his pulse rifle. “There, sir. A sentry.”

The Chitin was scurrying across the pink sand, its dark tentacles free from sand and dust. It left no markings in the surface.

“How many do you count?” Finch wiped the sand off his leg as it crept up from his knee.

“Eight, sir. Four around the perimeter and four constructing the device in the center of that depression.”

Finch looked down the sights of his pulse rifle. “I can’t see any construction.” He stood up and stepped forward.

Jack quickly came alongside Finch and held him back. “The sentry, sir,” he said, careful not to annoy Finch. “It’ll spot us.” Jack took a knee and pulled Finch down next to him. “The construction is hidden in the depression. They picked the spot well.”

“We need to destroy them.”

“Yes, sir, I agree,” Jack replied. It was the first sensible suggestion he’d heard from Finch.

“I don’t much care if you agree or not, Marine. Fall back to the lander. I’ll get a commendation for this one.”

* * *

“Two Krakens left, sir. We can’t stop them.” Commander Chou paused, and then his head tipped forward. “They are on the dorsal hull.” Chou stepped away from the holostage and went to the command deck arms locker. He pulled the doors open. The locker held a sidearm for every command deck officer, but as the command deck was currently undermanned, there were several spare pistols. Lieutenant Chou tucked one in the waistband at the small of his back band and one in front. He took another and carried it to Pretorius at the holostage, handing it over, handle first.

“I’ll command the battalion from here, Captain.” Cruz unclipped the holsters of his own sidearms, one on each hip and one under his left arm.

Pretorius dropped his pistol on the holostage in front of him. “Give me an internal display,” he said. The holostage flickered from the external image to one of the Scorpio, all its corridors mapped out by a web of green holographic light. All the ship’s personnel were represented by small blinking specks. The two points where the Chitins were cutting through the hull appeared as dark spots.

Pretorius recognized the spots where the Chitins were entering. They were the thinnest sections of hull covering non-essential areas. One was the main mess, the other a hangar recently given over to the maintenance department. “Send Marines to those locations, Major. And send a detachment to protect my drive room.”

14

The hull glowed white above Reyes. The composite blistered and fell away in molten droplets.

“They’re cutting through,” Doyle said. “Arm yourselves.”

“With what?” Reyes looked around desperately.

“Anything you can find.” Doyle ran to the pile of scrap. “A knife. A club. Anything.”

Reyes picked up a small electron scalpel from a nearby tool bench. She tuned the sizzling blade to its longest. The electron blade was sharp and should cut through the Chit shell to kill the creature inside. Sweat dripped from her face.

George was cowering against Doyle as the master was digging in the junk. He produced a long blade taken from a long-range reconnaissance drone. It had one rounded end where it met the turbine assembly and tapered out into a long, viciously sharp blade. He gave it an experimental swing. It would do damage from its weight if not its cutting edge.

The glowing section of hull finally gave way and a small hole appeared. Immediately, a tentacle pushed its way through.

“The door,” Reyes said as she heard a banging on the hangar door. “They are coming to help.”

Doyle ran to the door and tried the access panel. “It’s no good,” he said. “It won’t open.”

Reyes looked up to the widening hole above. More tentacles were coming through. The pressure in the hangar was dropping because of the breach above. “The emergency seals are holding it shut,” she said and backed away from the growing breach above.

George wailed pitifully as he watched.

“We should form up,” Reyes said, walking over toward Doyle and George. “We can defend ourselves better if we stay in a group.”

Then the hull on the hangar roof fell inward. A full-sized Chit soldier dropped to the maintenance hangar deck in between George and Doyle, and Reyes.

Doyle yelled a wild battle cry and charged at the Chit, his blade raised high above his head. He brought the blade down hard on the Chitin. Tentacles wrapped around the blade and plucked it from Doyle’s hand.

The pressure drop started to make Reyes feel lightheaded as the hull cracked open even more and another Chit dangled in through the breech, tentacles holding above and hanging down below. Reyes cried out in anger as the Chit picked Doyle up and passed him back to the hanging Chit, who swiftly climbed back up through the breach and took the struggling Doyle with it.

The Chit advanced on George. Reyes watched helplessly as the Chit tentacles reached out for him. George ran at the beast with his own battle cry, deep and furious. Tears streamed from his eyes as he ran straight at the alien. He dodged between the thick tentacles and reached out for the fine antennae around the circular mouth on the long head. He snapped one off and it caused the Chit to squirm and back away, its long head swinging violently.

Reyes saw the edge of the hangar door glowing. She hoped for a moment it was rescue, then she realized the door was being sealed from the outside. The ship systems would show how many crew were in the hangar. They were being abandoned. Reyes stumbled away from the door toward her bench. She felt the Chitin suit behind her and thought, just maybe, she could use it and escape.

George was still screaming and beating down the Chit with his fists, the long head taking blow after blow. Then Reyes saw the second Chit appear in the breach. It dropped down to pluck George off the deck and carried him up, screaming and kicking.

The Chit in the hangar turned toward Reyes. She felt a sudden rush of fear and adrenaline. The air was thin and she was feeling too weak to fight. The electron blade fell from her hand. She turned her back on the advancing Chit and looked at the Chit on her bench. There was space inside. She had thought about trying it out once she’d studied it some more. Study time was over. It either worked now, or she died. She climbed in through the opening in the shell. The Chit lurched toward her in what looked like a drunken state. Losing the antennae to George had badly affected it. Reyes grabbed the console she’d been using to control the Chit and pulled it inside with her.

She curled up her legs and adopted a kneeling position in the body of the Chit, working as quickly as she could.

The shell closed and locked Reyes inside. She could see only the inside of the shell, lit by the console. She tried to stand the Chit up on its tentacles. She felt the suit stand upright. Then she fell sideways. Now she was upside-down. She checked the console, but it wasn’t her driving that was at fault. Again, she was moving and tumbling.

“That damn Chit is giving me a beating,” she said. Her hands danced across the console as she tried to access some exterior view. The inside of the head suddenly presented an image of the outside world. It was the maintenance hangar as seen from an unusual angle, upside-down in a corner, on top of the junk pile. She looked around and saw the Chit, still lurching drunkenly toward her.

Looking up, Reyes could see the breach in the hull. “If I can get this right…” Reyes said to herself as she attempted to leap using all the Chit’s tentacles. She felt the movement as she flung herself toward the breach.

As she came toward the breach, she turned the Chit and reached out with a tentacle to grab hold of the blistered edge. The tentacle missed and Reyes slammed into the roof of the hangar. She realized she was falling. Looking up, she saw the second Chit coming back through the breach, tentacles extended downward. Reyes reached out and grabbed with her own tentacles.

She caught hold and stopped her fall. The Chit started to pull her up. She panicked at first, a wave of fear pulsing in her chest. “If I’m going to get out of here, it might as well be this way,” she said and let herself be pulled up.

She emerged in a closed space, filled with writhing tentacles of many colors. She saw Doyle and George. They were both held inside a translucent pod. Both seemed in shock, their mouths and eyes wide open, but both were still. Reyes moved through the mass of tentacles and saw a large display. It was shimmering like a reflection in an oil-covered pool of water and showed the outside of the Scorpio. Underneath the display was a series of what Reyes thought looked like a set of controls. It was a collection of short writhing tentacles set in a pattern of color and length.

“If this is how you control your ship,” Reyes said, reaching out with her clumsy tentacle, “there should be a door handle here somewhere.” Reyes grabbed and tugged at the tentacles.

The Chit craft jerked and bucked, then fell away from the side of the Scorpio. Reyes felt herself being pulled from the control. She looked around as best she could and then saw in the murky display on the inside of the Chitin head that the other Chit was grabbing her. She reached out and wrapped a tentacle around one of his small antenna and snapped it off. Quickly, she grabbed another.

The tentacles that filled the space inside the craft were all being sucked toward the opening in the Chitin craft. Reyes had managed to detach the craft from the hull of the Scorpio and now the interior was exposed to space. Thick globs of fluid started streaming past her to get blown out in to the void.

The fallen Chit wriggled between the ship’s interior tentacles and toward the set of short tentacle controls. Reyes saw a chance to escape. She moved her way through the craft toward the opening to space, allowing herself to be blown out along with other contents of the craft and leaving the Chit craft behind.

“Now, if only I can get back to the Scorpio, I might actually survive this,” Reyes said. She tapped away at her console and tried to pilot the Chit shell and get herself to safety.

* * *

“One of the Chit craft has detached from the hull, Captain. They appear out of control. Venting gas and fluid from a large opening.” Commander Chou wiped sweat from his brow with his sleeve.

“Destroy it, Mister Chou.”

“Dorsal battery has it. They fired on it. It’s destroyed.”

“Second craft detaching now.”

“Fire on it.” Pretorius leaned heavily on the holostage.

“They are accelerating away. Port side battery firing. We’ve lost them, Captain. Sorry.”

“That’s not all we lost. I want a list of missing and dead. I’ll assess the damage to my ship.” Pretorius picked up the sidearm off the holostage and returned it to the arms locker. “And if they ever get this far into my ship, I won’t need a sidearm. I’ll destroy the Scorpio. Those Chit bastards won’t be dragging me off to krav knows where.”

“Captain.” Commander Chou shuddered.

Pretorius walked back across to the holostage and saw what had caused Chou to shudder.

“A Chitin war ship detected. It’s a Leviathan, sir. It’s on an intercept course. Should I call the Scorpio to action stations?”

Pretorius tugged at his cuffs. “No, Mister Chou. We’ve had our fight. Bring us about. Full speed. Calculate a slingshot maneuver around the planet.”

“What heading, Captain?”

Pretorius expanded the holograph image to show the system from their current location around the gas giant’s outer moon to the inner system worlds of Eros and Eras. The positions of the fleet were indicated. The nearest vessel capable of offering support against the Leviathan was the carrier Overlord and its flotilla.

“Set course for the Overlord.”

Pretorius refocused the display on the Penthus system. The Scorpio was diving toward the boiling clouds of the giant planet. The Chitin warship was bearing down on them. The Scorpio fired its massive engine assembly, antimatter was annihilated in the reaction chamber and blasted the Scorpio on its slingshot around the planet and away toward the distant carrier.

Pushing himself away from the holostage, Pretorius turned on his heel and walked toward the command deck exit. He unbuttoned his jacket. “Send a message to the team on the ground. Let them know we haven’t forgotten them.”

15

Jack moved fast and low a few meters ahead of Finch, scouting with a watchful eye out for any Chitin activity. His scanners were set to maximum range and running in tandem with the scanners on board Finch’s suit.

A flash overhead caught Jack’s eye. He dove to the ground and scanned the area for danger. Then another flash and Jack realized it was coming from orbit.

“The Scorpio.” Jack turned back to Commander Finch. “They’re firing.”

“Get moving, Marine,” Finch called out, climbing to his feet. He brushed the sand off his suit in exaggerated sweeps that showed his frustration.

“That’s why I couldn’t raise them on comms. They were hiding from the Chits.”

“You don’t know what’s going on up there. Now get moving. Back to the Lander, on the double.”

Jack saw another large flash from above. If the Scorpio was taking a beating, Jack guessed they would be forgotten and abandoned. He pushed the worry out of his mind. The Chitins were building something and he was going to stop them.

Moving again and watching out for more signs of battle in orbit Jack kept his rifle pointed forward ready to respond to any threat. A flash of light came from behind, sailed over head and crashed into the ground a kilometer ahead, not far from the landing crash site. The pink sands of the moon erupted high into the air.

“Hold, Marine,” Finch’s voice hissed into Jack’s helmet. “Hold position.”

Jack dropped to one knee and scanned the horizon. Something had come down to the surface and was sitting between him and the landing craft, his only sure way off this kravin’ pink hell. His scanners detected movement.

“Movement detected up ahead, sir.” Jack adjusted his pulse rifle sights and studied the horizon.

“Hold.” Finch came alongside Jack.

A large flash from overhead lit up the brown atmosphere of Kratos. A large ball of light hung there like a small sun. Jack looked skywards to the flash. Finch was on his feet, head tipped back to look at the large ball of light.

“It’s the Scorpio main drive, sir. They are leaving.”

“Negative, Marine. They won’t leave us down here.”

“It’s the main drive, sir. If that was a ship getting smashed, then we’d see debris raining down through the atmosphere. The Scorpio is escaping.”

Finch took a few faltering steps toward the fading ball of light. “No!” he called out pitifully. “They can’t leave.”

“We need to take care of those Chits back there, sir.” Jack stepped over to Finch, who was staggering like a drunk. Pulling him back to the ground, Jack repeated, “We still have work to do.”

Finch pushed Jack away. “Don’t tell me, Marine. I give the orders around here. And I order the Scorpio to get back here.” Finch was on his feet again, staggering toward the vanishing ball of light. And as it faded completely from view, Finch yelled, “I order you to come back here.”

“Sir.” Jack placed a hand on Finch’s shoulder. “Up ahead. Movement.”

Finch shrugged Jack off and walked with hesitant steps, calling out to the Scorpio to come and get him.

Jack pulled Finch to the ground and held him down. “It’s alright, sir.”

“It’s not alright, you fool. We’ve been left here to rot in this krav grit and slime.” Finch rubbed the sand away from his suit as it crept up and over him.

“No, sir. They won’t leave us, sir.” Jack tried to calm Finch. The movement he’d detected was closing in slowly. “But Captain Pretorius knows we are Marines and we can accomplish our mission, sir.”

“Yes.” Finch saluted and tried to stand up. “I’m a kravin’ Marine. I’m Commander of Cobra Company. Get back here,” Finch shouted and struggled to get to his feet, but Jack held him down. “Get back here, you cowards.”

“Sir. Movement. Something closing in. Something from orbit. Approaching fast.”

Finch dropped to the ground and clumsily brought his rifle up to his shoulder. “Kravin’ Chitin scum. Chit filth. Kravin’ evil bastards. I’ll blast it. Where’s he at?” Finch climbed up onto one knee and aimed, his rifle jerking this way and that. “Where’s the Chitin scum at?”

Then Jack spotted it, a Chitin, moving in a swaying motion across its path. It seemed to move suddenly in one direction before moving back the other. Jack watched closely, waiting for the Chit to swing into kill range. Finch was reacting strangely to what looked to be the sudden departure of the Scorpio. If Jack was going to take this Chit down quickly, he would need Finch to fire with him, or wait for the Chit to come so close that Jack could take it on his own.

“Krav it all, Marine,” Finch dropped next to Jack, bumping into him and knocking his rifle off target. “There’s a kravin’ Chit coming this way. Are you blind?”

“No, sir, just waiting for a kill shot, sir.”

“Kill shot, he says.” Finch took aim. “I’ll show you a kill shot. Been killing Chits since before you were tying your laces. Take aim and wait for my order to fire. Can you do that, Forge?”

“Yes, sir.” Jack returned his rifle to his shoulder and sighted the Chit. “Waiting for your order, sir.” The Chit was definitely close enough for them to take the shot, and the thing seemed hurt or damaged by the way it was moving. It lurched one way and then the other.

Come on already, Jack thought. “Ready to fire, sir,” he said, hoping it would prompt Finch to let him open up and shred the Chit.

Jack zoomed in with his rifle sights. The creature was covered in grains of the pink sand. It had clearly fallen over and picked up some of the moon’s strange sand. Then Jack remembered the Chits around the construction site. None of them seemed to pick up any grains of sand and their tentacles that moved across the surface remained clean.

“Ready?” Finch asked.

Jack looked at the tentacles more closely and the sand creeping up over them just like it had done with his boots, but not like the other Chits’ tentacles. The Chit lurched again the other way. Jack saw one of the tentacles curl up suddenly into a tight knot and then drop flaccid and lifeless. The Chit lurched as another tentacle that was moving it forward coiled up into a tight knot.

“Take aim, Marine,”

Jack remembered seeing the Chit in the maintenance hangar behaving like that when Reyes had been attempting to work out the way the Chit moved. Jack aimed at the smooth head. And there, glinting on the Chit’s head, was his watch. The watch that had been his only reminder of family. The watch he’d dismantled in the Battle of Training Moon. The watch he’d asked Reyes to look after for him, the watch Reyes had slipped over the antennae of the Chit she was studying.

“Fire,” Finch called.

Jack reached out and pushed the front of Finch’s rifle upward. The pulse rounds ripped through the thin air centimeters above the Chit’s head.

“Cease fire, sir. It’s Reyes.” Jack held the front of Finch’s rifle upward against Finch’s struggling.

“Let go of my weapon, Forge. Kill the damn Chit. Fire!” Finch shouted. He fired his rifle wildly as Jack held it pointing skyward. “This is sedition. This is mutiny. They’ll hang you for this, Forge. I’ll hang you myself.”

“Sir, it’s not a Chit. It’s Reyes.”

“Reyes? What is Reyes? One of your Chit friends.” Finch continued to fight.

“No, sir, it’s Sarah Reyes from maintenance.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” Finch screamed. He let go of his rifle and drew his sidearm, pointing it at Jack’s face.

“Sir, no, sir.” Jack held his hands in front of him for protection, knowing it was useless to try and fend off a pulse pistol shot. Not even the meat suit could protect him at this range. “She’s on our side.”

“So you admit it. You are a spy? A turncoat? You are a Chitin agent come to kill us. You sent the Scorpio away. You are the enemy here, Forge.” Finch primed the pistol.

“No, sir. Please, sir. Put the weapon down.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the Chit that was Reyes lurch over behind Finch.

A tentacle reached out and slapped the hand holding the pistol. The weapon fired, the round zipping through the air just over Jack’s left shoulder.

Finch turned to face the Chit that towered over them both. A tentacle wrapped around Finch’s pistol hand. The pistol fired again. Purple slime splattered out of the wound the pistol blasted in the Chit. A second tentacle coiled around Finch’s other arm and lifted him off the ground, the pistol tumbling from Finch’s grasp.

“Put him down, Sarah,” Jack called. “Put the commander down,”

The coiled tentacles that held Finch off the ground uncoiled and released him. The commander fell to the sandy ground. He struggled to his hands and knees. Jack saw Finch pull an electron blade from a scabbard on his ankle.

Reyes reached out with a tentacle and flicked the blade out of Finch’s hand. The blade spun upward, leaving visual trails as it spun. The blade reached its zenith and tumbled downward, rotating still.

Jack saw the danger. Finch saw it too. Jack reached out, yelling. Finch struggled to get away from the falling blade.

The blade landed point down on Finch’s shoulder, passing easily through the suit and cutting into Finch’s shoulder. The commander yelled out as the blade cut his flesh and bone.

The blood boiled out of the wound, exposed to the thin cold atmosphere. The pressure from the suit was released in moments and then the toxins from the atmosphere of Kratos found their way into Finch’s suit and into his warm flesh.

“Sir,” Jack called out. “Commander Finch?”

Jack stood over the still and silent body of Finch. Then he looked up at the smooth head of the Chit standing before him.

16

Sarah Reyes looked at Jack on the shimmering view on the inside on the Chit.

“Jack,” she shouted. She shouted again through her tears. “Jack. It’s me.”

She watched as Jack looked down at the body of Finch and then up again at her. She saw him mouthing the words, Sarah. Is that you, Sarah?

She shouted again so loud it hurt her throat and her ears. “Jack, it’s me. Help me.”

Reyes could see that the hole in the Chit where Finch had fired was closing up, a thick purple liquid filling the hole, but the gash across the right thigh where the round had grazed her was not healing. It was bleeding badly. Some purple slime spread over her thigh. The liquid burned and she screamed, the sound of her voice echoing around inside the Chit.

“Sarah, can you hear me?”

Sarah watched Jack mouth the words. She shouted, “Yes,” and then realized neither could hear the other. She worked carefully to draw her tentacle across the sand. She wrote, Sarah.

* * *

Jack looked at the sand and the word written there. The name of the girl from maintenance who had so captivated him. Sarah. The name was like magic and when he said it, he thought only of her. He was lost in dreams of her.

“How did you get down here?” Jack said to the large smooth head. He realized she probably couldn’t hear him.

He looked across to the fallen body of Finch. The blood was evaporating out of the slice in the suit. The pink sands were already crawling up over him and he was almost totally covered. Jack accessed the vital signs readout for Finch. The data displayed over Jack’s view showed that Finch was dead. No life signs. No pulse. No brain activity. He was already listed on Jack’s display as Killed in Action.

A tentacle reached out. Jack recoiled. This massive ugly beast was Sarah? He saw the wound in the Chit body and mixed with the purple gloop that oozed out was the unmistakable trace of blood red.

“You been hit?” Jack mouthed carefully.

The Chit reached out with a tentacle again. Jack reached out too, took hold and pulled the Chit. “This way,” he said.

* * *

Jack came to the landing craft crash site cautiously and a few meters ahead of the Chit Reyes. He answered the challenge from the sentry.

“Forge, coming in.” he said.

Terry stepped forward, his rifle leveled at Jack. “Where the Krav have you been all this time?”

“Where’s Torent?” Jack asked. If he was going to bring Sarah up to the lander, he was going to make sure she didn’t suddenly get cut down by fire from a dozen frightened Marines.

Sam Torent came down the ramp from the landing craft and marched over. “Jacky. Bad news. Scorpio bugged out and we’re on our own for now. Where’s the commander?”

“Sam,” Jack said slowly, stepping forward as if approaching a wild animal. “I found someone from the Scorpio. They escaped somehow. You mustn’t be alarmed.”

Torent brought his rifle up. Terry copied the squad leader. “Why would I be alarmed?”

“It’s Sarah Reyes from maintenance. She managed to get down out of orbit.”

“How?”

“She’s been working on a Chitin for some time and she’s found out how to...”

“How to what?”

“She’s inside the Chitin, Sam.”

“Inside?” Torent tipped his head as if trying to understand.

“Just don’t fire, Sam. Promise me you won’t fire.”

“What’s going on, Jack?”

“Promise me.” Jack turned and waved to Reyes.

The Chitin appeared from behind a far off sand tree. The flailing tentacles collapsed one of the sand trees and it fell over the Chit like an avalanche of pink snow. Terry raised his weapon and called out. “Contact. Contact. Twelve o’clock.”

“No!” Jack ran in front of Terry and pressed his rifle aside. “Sam, order them, Sam. Hold your fire.”

6th squad came running at the sound of the commotion, their weapons ready.

Jack waved his hands wildly at the squad. “Hold your fire. Don’t fire.”

The Marines slowed and approached cautiously, all looking in awe and surprise at the Chit that lumbered and lurched forward.

“Don’t fire,” Jack said again to Torent. “It’s Sarah Reyes. She’s inside. She needs help. Look.” Jack pointed at the wound and the trickle of red through the purple gunk that was becoming caked in the fine pink sand.

“She needs a suit. She can’t survive without a suit. We must have a spare?”

“Maybe. Let’s look. Terry, keep your pulse rifle trained on that thing.”

Terry nudged Jack aside with a shoulder and stepped behind the Chit Reyes.

Jack grabbed a tentacle and pulled Reyes toward the ramp. The Marines lined up to watch the strange procession.

Once inside the hold, Torent set three Marines to seek out a spare suit in the landing craft. Osho found one in a weapons locker.

“It’s unpowered,” Torent said, turning the suit over in his hands.

“No problem,” Jack said. “We can hook it up to the lander’s power and charge it.”

Torent nodded and handed the suit to Jack. “What now?”

“Seal the landing ramp and pressurize the hold. Reyes can get out of the Chit and into the meat suit.”

Torent nodded. Jack closed the ramp and pressurized the hold. Torent ordered the Marines in the hold to train their weapons on the Chit. “One false move,” he said.

The Chit shell opened a crack with a rush of air. Purple ooze dribbled slowly out of the crack and then came Sarah Reyes. She fell to the deck hard, and the vacated Chit shell fell loudly after her.

The gasps and cheers from the Marines drew a weak smile from Reyes. She looked up and around until she saw Jack.

Jack rushed over and scooped Sarah up in his arms. He scraped away the slime. He spotted the wound on her leg. “Aid kit,” he called out. A Marine brought one forward and dropped it in front of Jack before stepping back and bringing his rifle up.

Jack wiped the slime from Reyes’s hair and tucked the hair behind her ears. “You okay?”

Reyes nodded, tears in her eyes. “They took Doyle. And George. Chitin scum. I’m going to kill them. I’m going to kill them all.”

* * *

With Reyes’s wound dressed, she climbed unsteadily into her meat suit. Jack left her sitting in an alcove and reopened the landing craft ramp.

Walking off the ramp and down on to the fine sand, he turned to Torent. “We have to attack the Chitins.”

“Jack,” Torent said, “where’s the commander?”

Jack hesitated. He couldn’t lie but he couldn’t tell the truth. “He didn’t make it,” Jack stammered.

“What do you mean by that, Jack?”

“He fell, Sam. He got taken out.”

“Taken out how?”

“He’s back there,” Jack said.

“That is not what I asked you. How did he fall, Jack?”

Jack looked Torent in the eye. “Can we deal with those Chits first, Sam?”

Jack felt Torent’s eye drill into him. “You better get your story straight before we get off this rock.”

“If we get off this rock,” Jack said.

Sam fixed Jack with a stare. “No jokes, please.”

Jack nodded and looked to the floor. The pink grains had crept up over his boot. He was sinking in this moon and sinking in the feelings of guilt. Finch was dead. Whatever he was, he didn’t deserve to die like that.

Jack drew a rough map of the Chitin construction site in the sand. The grains kept moving in to fill the space and they climbed up to form miniature versions of the forest all around. Jack worked and spoke fast.

“Whatever they are doing, Sam, we need to stop them. We have to take them out.”

“I suggest we close in on two fronts and create a crossfire. We get between the sentries and attack, deal with the sentries when they come on. Most important is to take out that Chit construction first. Agree?” Torent looked at Jack.

Jack thought it was the best plan. Yes, they would come under attack from the sentries, but with no way to take them out silently, they would have to launch an attack on the main site first. There would be casualties.

“I agree,” Jack said. And then the sand grains around the site began to lift ever so slightly, just a few millimeters off the ground. Jack felt the hairs stand up all over his body and his data display began to flicker. Jack looked up. A dark spot appeared high in orbit. A massive craft with tentacle-like structures spread out.

“It’s a Chitin Leviathan,” Jack said.

Suddenly, a massive beam of light appeared, leaping up from the surface of Kratos and running up to the base of the Leviathan.

“They are attacking,” Terry shouted and aimed his rifle.

“Stand down!” Torent ordered. “Keep your head. Try and be a Marine.”

“They are not attacking,” Jack said. “That beam is coming from the Chit site.”

“It’s a fueling station,” Reyes said. “That’s what they are doing here. They are using the moon as a fueling station.”

“What fuel?” Torent asked.

Jack ran his hand through the sand that was floating just above the surface. “It’s some kind of electromagnetic energy. Kratos is so highly charged by the gas planet. They are harvesting off the moon.”

“Why don’t they take it from the gas giant itself?” Torent asked. “There must be more there than on this little moon.”

Jack stood up. “Like oil back on Earth. You couldn’t put oil in a gas tank, it needed to be refined first. Maybe this moon is like a refinery for the gas giant’s huge electromagnetic charge.”

Torent stood up. “Who cares about the science? Let’s destroy the krav out of it.”

“Wait.” Sarah staggered over. “If we kill the Chits, that Leviathan will send more. There could be thousands of the bastards up there. But if that is a fuel line to the Chits...” Reyes hesitated for a moment. “What if we destroy that, we might damage the Leviathan too.”

“The fleet has never destroyed a Chit Leviathan.” Terry stood up and swung his rifle up. “It’s pointless to try. Let’s attack, now. And so what if they send more Chitin scum? I can kill a thousand.”

“But maybe we can take that Leviathan out,” Jack said, calming the excitable Terry. “Do you think you can do it?” he asked Reyes.

“I think I can do it,” Sarah said, nodding, “I’ve been experimenting with their tech for months. It’s not so much tech, it’s more like biology. I’ve been inside their suits, and inside one of their Krakens. I’ve got inside their minds. I know how they work, and I think I know how to break them.”

Jack and Torent looked at each other and smiled.

“She’s good,” Torent said.

“I think so.” Jack turned back to Reyes. She was looking down at the Chit suit on the floor, her thick hair tumbling forward.

“I might have to use the Chit shell as a link to their device, but I think I can do this. If you get me to that device I will reverse the energy polarity and drain the charge from the Leviathan back to Kratos. I kind of did it with this Chit suit when I was working it out. I think I can do it with their ship.”

“That Leviathan is massive, it’s not like this shell.” Torent nudged the Chit with his toe.

“But it is. It is exactly the same.” Reyes nodded at Jack to gain his support. “And I’m the closest thing to an expert we have.”

“I’ve seen her working this thing, Sam. I think we should give it a shot.” Jack smiled and nodded at Reyes, giving his approval for the plan.

Reyes clapped her hands excitedly, “They’ll be out of fuel and dead in the void. The moon’s gravity might even bring them down. Without their power transfer device, they’ll be stranded.”

“Until another Chit comes looking to top off his fuel,” Torent said.

Jack shrugged. “It’s the only chance we have of getting off this moon right now.”

Torent nodded. “It’s worth a shot. But if we’re going to give Reyes a shot, we’re going to have to kill the Chits at the site.” Torent looked at Jack. “Any suggestions?”

Jack folded his arms and set his jaw with a steely edge. “We go in hard and fast. Get Reyes to the device and hold off any counter-attack while she does her stuff.”

“Sounds pretty much a do or die approach, Jacky.”

“We are short on time and short on ideas. This is all we’ve got. If it works, we might have a chance to get off this moon. If not…” Jack paused and looked at his squad-mates. “We’re all dead otherwise in any case.”

The squad seemed lost in thought for a moment until Torent shouted, “Let’s get this done. Jack, assist Reyes. Rest of you, grab your gear. Weapons and ammo only. Got any ordnance, bring it along. Let’s go Sixth Squad. Time to be Marines.”

Torent nodded at Jack and Reyes. “Good luck,” he said.

“To us all,” Jack replied.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked.

“I think it’s a good shot. Worth the risk.”

“Okay,” Jack said. “Let’s get you what you need.”

Reyes grabbed the remote console and activated the Chit shell. It stood up, towering over the Marines. She looked into Jack’s eyes. “I’ve got everything right here.”

Jack felt nervousness come over him. He was worried about the battle to come. He feared for his life and the lives of his squad. But mostly he feared that if he didn’t return from the mission, he wouldn’t get to spend more time with Sarah Reyes.

“Ready when you are, Squad Leader,” Jack called out.

17

Jack ran through the sand forest toward the Chit position. At any moment, they knew the Leviathan hovering in orbit above could dispatch hundreds of Chit soldiers to the surface, or even scour the surface with the massive plasma arcs and turn the pink sand to glass for a hundred square kilometers, incinerating every one of 6th squad in the process. Speed was the key.

The two forward scouts, Osho and Terry, opened fire and Jack knew they had reached the Chit sentries. The game was on and there could be no hiding from the battle now. He moved forward quickly, running toward battle and uncertainty. The only certainty now was that he was a Marine. If it lasted beyond the battle was another question, but for now, he was Marine.

Moving fast, he came to the point where the forward scouts were engaging the sentries.

“No time. Move forward,” Jack said as Torent came up, his rifle firing on the Chit sentry to his left.

“We’ve given ourselves away. They know we are here. We must press on.” Jack ducked under a disintegrating sand tree as a Chit plasma spear sliced through it, scattering a pink dust cloud everywhere.

“Use the dust as cover,” Torent shouted. He grabbed the nearest Marine and pushed them toward the left sentry.

The tag on Jack’s data display showed the name of the Marine. Jack knew him as Bubble, the crybaby.

Bubble moved, low and fast, toward the Chit. Torent grabbed another Marine. It was Bailey, the smallest of 6th squad who usually wore the biggest grin.

“Bailey, go right and smash that Chit.” Torent stood his ground as a plasma spear crashed into the ground centimeters from his feet. “Osho, stay with Bailey. The rest of you follow me.”

Jack grabbed Reyes as she came running up, panting heavily.

“Catch your breath.” Jack pulled Reyes down as a plasma spear streaked overhead. “We move into the center of the depression and straight for the device. I will cover you. You ready?”

Reyes nodded and staggered to her feet. A plasma spear slashed through another sand tree, blasting sand over her. Reyes flinched and let out a pitiful wail of fear. Jack grabbed her arm and pulled her with him.

“It’ll be okay. Stay with me.”

Jack reached the rim of the depression in a few strides. Away to the left, he saw Osho and Terry advancing on the far sentry. The first sentry lay twitching in the sand. Across the other side of the depression, Bubble was charging forward, an electron bayonet lighting up the end of his pulse rifle. His partner Bayle was crouching and firing on the far right Chit sentry. Every round from Bayle’s pulse rifle tore chunks out of the far sentry, forcing the Chit backward. It raised its weapon and let out a poorly aimed plasma spear at Bubble. The electron bayonet was thrust into the ring of teeth on the end of the long, skinny black head. Bubble lifted and ripped through the head. The Chit fell, thrashing and throwing up pink sand.

Torent was down on one knee and firing controlled bursts at the Chits gathered around the base of the device. Lee stood next to Torent. The rest of 6th squad had split into two small fire teams and moved out to the flanks, firing on the remaining Chits.

Jack saw the Chits falling back and being cut to pieces by the sudden, unexpected, and ferocious attack. He grabbed Reyes and ran to the device. They fell to the sand at the base of the tower sending a column of energy into space to the Chitin Leviathan.

“Think you can do it?” Jack stood over Reyes and scanned the area for any Chit threat.

Reyes brought the Chit shell over to her and dropped it in front of the device. “I think so.” She cracked open the shell and began pulling out sinews and muscle strands. She lay them onto some of the glowing channels that flicked over the base of the device.

Torent came running over. “That’s all of them. Not very well defended. There must be more.”

Jack saw a Marine standing on the ridge looking upward and felt a sudden sinking feeling. He looked up and saw dozens of points of light high in the thin Kratos atmosphere. Every point of light left a small tail behind it. They grew in size rapidly. Jack knew all too well what they were. Torent realized too and he started barking orders to 6th squad.

“Sixth Squad, on me. Make a defensive perimeter around the device. Give Reyes cover. We’ve got Chitin soldiers incoming. Hundreds of them. Light up your bayonets. Let’s go. Move. Move.”

The squad came into the depression and formed up around Reyes. Torent walked along in front of them all. “Looking good. Everyone a battle-hardened, full-on pro. Pick your targets. Drop as many as you can before they land. Let’s give our plan every chance. Don’t give the Chits any. Here they come.”

Jack knelt next to Reyes and fired up at a Chit soldier five hundred meters above, moving across the sky. Reyes tugged Jack’s arm.

“I need your help.” She held up a thick purple strand that she’d pulled out of the Chit shell. “This needs to be attached to one of these channels on the far side of the device. Get it as far up the pillar as you can, about three meters should do it.”

Jack looked at the pattern of sinews and muscle strands that were connected to the base and the tower, all seemingly absorbed into the purple channels that cris-crossed the device.

“Okay,” Jack said.

Reyes grabbed him just before he moved off. “When that is in, I just need to activate the shell.” She held up the remote control she used on the Chit and showed him a tab on the screen. “We need to hit this tab and then select the inversion field. It’ll draw the power to the shell. The shell will vaporize, but once the inversion is established, the drain will be unstoppable.”

From the corner of his eye, Jack saw the first Chit appear over the rim of the depression. The head was smashed by fire from a dozen eager Marines and their hungry pulse rifles. Then another, and then another.

The squad poured fire out from the defensive perimeter and shredded every Chit that crested the ridge, but they kept on coming. And still more appeared in the sky as a silver rain of distant flying Chitins lit up in the thin atmosphere.

“Jack, when we activate this drain, this depression is going to be a bad place to be.”

“How bad?”

Reyes pushed Jack away. “Get that strand in the channel and let me know when it’s done.”

Jack skirted around the wide base of the device. The tower rose some thirty meters into the moon’s thin atmosphere and from the tip rose a fat glowing stream of energy that tugged at the hairs on Jack s head.

Jack climbed up onto the base and scrambled up the slight incline to the tower. He spotted a purple channel about three meters up. Tucking the sinew in his belt, he began to climb.

The black composite of the tower was similar material to the Chitin shells. It was smooth and only the slight indentations for the glowing purple channels gave him anything to grab hold of. Slowly, he moved up to his target.

The ring of Marines around the base gave out a constant and devastating hail of fire. Jack realized the Chitins were not firing back. They must have been desperate not to damage the device that was still pouring energy up into orbit and into the belly of the massive Chitin Leviathan.

The Chit tactics seemed to involve deployment of overwhelming numbers. Jack saw that for every Chitin that fell to the Marines’ fire, another two appeared over the rim. Their forward tentacles, so often armed with the plasma spear launchers, were stiffened and sharpened. They were shiny black, the dull light from the gas giant glinting off the sharpened blades, blades that came forward, closer and closer to the defensive perimeter of 6th squad.

Jack pulled himself up one more meter and grabbed the sinew. He held it to the channel and was surprised that the sinew melded in with no effort. He simply held it close and let it meld with the purple light in the channel.

He called to Reyes using his suit’s communicator. “It’s in.”

Jack climbed down and dropped behind the ring of Marines. Towering over the Marine was a Chit soldier, its blades raised. The Marine fired at the ring of teeth and the Chit fell away, only to be replaced by another.

“Jack,” Torent’s voice burst over Jack’s communicator. “You got an update on that science project? We’re close to breaking point here.”

“Ready, just waiting for Reyes.” Jack walked back around the base. A black saber, two meters long, slashed down in front of him. A Marine sliced up with his electron bayonet and cut it off.

Jack saw Reyes hunched over her console. Jack dropped to his knees next to her and draped his arm over her shoulder. “We’re ready,” he said.

Reyes slumped forward, a wound in her shoulder from a Chitin saber blow. Her blood was leaking out through the suit and boiling away in the low-pressure atmosphere.

A Chitin blade slashed by Jack’s head. He ducked away, turned, and fired up at the Chit towering over him. A Marine closed the line in front of Jack and fired at the Chits that pressed in even closer.

Jack grabbed the device from Reyes’s limp hands. He knew what to do. He accessed the tab and scrolled through a list for inversion field. He found it.

“Sam!” Jack shouted. “Activating the inversion field now.” He pressed the tab.

Looking up at the power beam pouring up into the atmosphere, Jack thought he could see an immediate change. The beam seemed to grow fatter for a moment and then the rush of energy seeming to pour up the beam flickered between an upward flow and a downward flow, like a fork of lightning in an intense electrical storm.

“Is it working?” Torent blasted a Chit in the face and then slashed at another with his bayonet.

Jack felt dizziness come over him as he saw the energy flow oscillate from up to down a couple of times every second. It had a strobe-like effect. Dizziness turned to sickness. Then Jack saw the pink sand grains that had been floating just above the surface were suddenly pressed back to the ground.

“I think it is working.” Jack turned and fired at a Chit as a Marine parried its slashing blades with the tip of his pulse rifle.

“What now?” Torent asked. “Any suggestions?”

“We can stay here and wait. If it’s worked, we’ll be annihilated. Or we can try and get back to the landing craft and try and get out of here.” Jack fired another burst at a Chit head that lunged forward with its round ring teeth biting at him.

The tower of the structure began to glow brightly, the purple light glowing and building to a bright electric blue. The sand was compressed under foot as the energy was now directed into the moon’s surface. Jack felt his hairs stand up all over his body. A strange swaying dizziness grew and the fluid in his inner ear was compressed, the hairs in his inner ear standing at attention. His suit’s medical diagnostics reported a sudden onset of vertigo and administered a dose of antihistamines.

“Can you fly that landing craft?” Torent asked.

“No jokes, please.” Jack grabbed Reyes under her arms and pulled her to her feet. Her suit’s auto-mobility servos engaged and made Jack’s job easier. “Get us out of here, Sam.”

“Sixth squad,” Torent yelled as he fired, “form square.”

The squad quickly formed up into neat tight ranks, firing and slashing at the Chits that pressed in on all sides.

“Concentrate fire forward.” Torent sounded cool and levelheaded as he shouted his orders. “As one, Sixth squad. Back to the landing craft. Double time. Move.”

Jack ran along with his squad, his pulse rifle in one hand and Reyes held up with the other. He risked a glance back toward the tower. Chitin soldiers were crawling all over it. They pulled Reyes’s Chit suit away and it was shredded by a dozen blades. Jack saw a Chit scurry up the pillar and pull free the sinew he had planted, but all the time, the channels in the pillar burned with a more brilliant light than before. From electric blue to white and then an incandescent brilliance that started to burn the shells of the surrounding Chits.

Overhead, Jack saw even more light trails of Chits being dispatched to the surface. He urged 6th squad to move faster. Torent echoed his call and the squad advanced at a run, tearing through the Chitin soldiers that rushed in from every side.

The lander was surrounded by Chits when the square came upon it. They were on top and around, blocking the ramp up to the hold.

Then the plasma spears leapt toward the square.

The Marine in front of Jack fell as a plasma spear sliced clean through the shoulder of his armor. The defense systems of the tactical suit combined deflector shields from all surrounding suits and more of the spears ricocheted away. The square fired a withering hail at the Chits on the top of the lander, tearing one and toppling another off.

“Check your fire,” Jack shouted. “Don’t damage the lander. EBs only. Bayonet them away from the ramp.”

“Form diamond,” Torent called as the square pressed forward. Torent took the tip and hacked at the next Chitin. The rest of the squad formed up in a wedge behind Torent.

A plasma spear sliced through the air from Jack’s right. Reflex caused him to jerk away just in time and the plasma scorched the front of his helmet. Reyes fell from his arms to the ground. He bent to pick her up. Behind him in the distance, he could see the lights on the tower glowing brilliant white, becoming too painful to look at. The pulses of energy were traveling down the beam moving with terrific speed. It was as if the energy of a thousand plasma spears was slamming into the moon’s surface.

Jack realized the formation had left him and Reyes behind. They were on the ramp and slicing and stabbing with electron bayonets at Chits inside the hold. A burst of plasma spears erupted from inside the landing craft, blasting outward into 6th squad’s formation. Two Marines were thrown backwards by the volley, their suits torn apart. One lost an arm, his blood boiling away in the thin air in an instant.

A Chitin came scurrying and slithering around the side of the landing craft. Jack fell backwards, pulse rifle raised. He launched a volley of his own into the Chit’s body, causing the tentacles and antennae to thrash about. The Chit fell away.

“Jack,” Torent called from the ramp. “We need you.” Torent came forward and dragged Jack to his feet.

“Sarah,” Jack shouted and reached for her.

“She’s gone, Jack. She’s gone.”

“No,” Jack shouted. He pulled himself away and grabbed Reyes off the ground. Torrent stepped up next to Jack and fired at an advancing Chit soldier, plasma spear sizzling in its hand ready to be launched.

Torent covered Jack’s retreat to the landing craft’s ramp, turning this way and that, firing and slashing with his bayonet. And as Jack dragged Reyes into the hold, the ramp began to close.

A line of Marines rushed forward and fired out of the closing gap. A plasma spear cut through the last narrow gap into the hold. Jack saw a Marine spin around on the spot as the plasma spear smashed into the shoulder. The spear went on and struck the opposite bulkhead, exploding into a million shards of light.

Jack ran to the cockpit and started firing up the landing craft. Official pre-flight checks would take fifteen minutes for a scheduled takeoff. Jack reckoned he could activate the necessary systems and have the thing off the ground in seconds.

Through the view screen, Jack saw the distant energy beam pouring down to the moon’s surface. The Chitin Leviathan in orbit seemed closer. Then Jack realized it was being drawn to the surface by the energy beam.

Jack heard the lander scream and hiss. His running repairs and jury-rigged systems were working, but it made a frightening noise and shook the Marines in their suits.

Then, as the landing craft built up energy for the leap into orbit, Jack took one more look at the energy pulse on the Chit device. The Leviathan was even closer and looked to be bound to the energy beam. Then the direction of transfer switched in a blinding instant, from flooding down to the surface to being returned to the Leviathan in a huge burst of energy that slammed into the belly of the Chitin craft. Brilliant white light glowed from hairline cracks in the massive ship. Then the light was gone, leaving it’s afterimage on Jack’s display.

The Leviathan glowed for an instant as the light poured out of a thousand tiny cracks in the hull. Slowly and silently, it fell from space. As it came closer and closer, Jack could see the true scale of the massive craft. It was bigger that any of the fleet’s three carriers, its many tentacles that spread out to the sides were each longer than the Scorpio.

The Leviathan fell directly onto the now dead energy transfer device. Jack pushed the landing craft as hard as he could, the systems screaming their disapproval.

The Leviathan collided with the Chit device and exploded in a flash. Jack pushed the landing craft to orbit. He realized Marines were standing behind him and looking out of the view screen in awe at the terrible destruction. Then awe turned to elation as the enormity of the destruction and the enormity of their victory overcame their fatigue and emotion. The hold was filled with whooping and cheering, Marines in their suits dancing and leaping.

“Hey, Sam,” Jack called out. “Better get those Marines in their alcoves, old buddy. I can’t keep this battered crate in the sky with that lot skipping about.”

Jack heard the cheering die away. Osho came up beside him and spoke quietly.

“Torent took a plasma spear in the chest just before the door closed. He’s still with us. Just. You want to see him?”

Jack sat back in the pilot’s chair. “I need to fly this thing. I’ve gotta find the Scorpio. Strap those Marines in their alcoves, Osho.”

“They’ll listen to you, Jack,” she said.

“Listen up, Sixth Squad. It’s not a successful mission until we land back on the Scorpio flight deck. Calm down. Act like Marines. Let me get this boat home and we’ll all celebrate. You get me?”

“We get you, Jack,” came the firm reply, followed by a quiet, orderly movement to alcoves.

Jack checked the landing craft’s scanners. “Where the krav is the Scorpio?” he muttered to himself. “Where the krav am I going to take these brave Marines?”

18

Captain Pretorius tugged his cuff. “Mister Chou, put me through to the Overlord.”

Group Captain Wellard of the Overlord appeared on the holostage, sitting in his chair aboard the massive carrier.

“Ahh, Alistair,” Wellard spoke in a deep, calm voice. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Request permission to detach from the flotilla, sir.”

“Yes, of course. Is there somewhere you need to be?”

“One of my long-range sensor drones has detected a signal from my missing landing craft. It’s the boat that put down on Kratos, sir.”

Wellard sat back in his seat. “They’ve been lost for a few days. Hope they’ve held up well.”

“I’m making for their position at full speed now.”

“If you find any of your people in there, give them my regards. How that company of Marines brought down that Leviathan is a miracle. I want extensive debrief and commendations for all.”

“Yes, sir,” Pretorius replied, “but it wasn’t a company, sir. Just one squad. Sixth Squad of Cobra Company.”

Wellard leaned forward in his seat. “I haven’t read the reports yet.” Wellard rubbed his chin. “Go get your people, Captain.”

19

Jack sat slumped in the pilot’s chair. The distant star field drifted across the view screen. His throat was dry, his stomach hollow and heavy. He turned and looked along the alcoves and the Marines strapped in them. The status of the squad displayed on his enhanced data overlay. All life signs weak. Torent was clinging on by a fingernail. Sarah’s data wasn’t reading at all. It should have read something, even if she was... Jack couldn’t bear to finish the thought. He looked out into the void, the dark distant void. How long would he drift with his squad before they decayed to nothing in the emptiness of space?

And then over the top of the view screen came the hull of a destroyer. A bright light exploded through the view screen and washed over the hold and its cargo of fatigued and desperate Marines. The hold filled with the sound of a collision alarm. Then came the sound of docking clamps latching on.

Jack saw the black of space turn to the bright lights of the destroyer’s flight deck. As Jack’s eyes drooped, he saw the letters ‘SC’ painted on the wall in bright letters. This was the Scorpio’s flight deck.

Jack was home. There was no denying it any longer, he was truly a Fleet Marine.

* * *

Forged to Lead

Prologue

Bill Harts was not awake. He was not asleep. He was unconscious, yet he was aware. He was fixed in place, unable to move. He was captive.

The cold hung over his skin and penetrated his bones. He felt every chill moment, but his body did not shiver. The tentacles writhed over his skin. They held him in place and touched him lightly. Cold and sticky, rough and smooth.

Harts saw himself held in the mass of tentacles. He watched as if in a dream, a nightmare. He urged himself to move, to break free from the tentacles that held him, but his muscles would not respond. He tried to cry for help, but his mouth remained closed, his voice lodged in his throat. His face appeared relaxed, no muscles tensed. He screamed in his sleeping mind.

A mass of tentacles covered his unconscious head and felt their way across his sleeping face. He felt their touch and yelled out. No sound came from his relaxed body. A tentacle slipped between his limp lips and into his mouth that tried desperately to yell and holler and scream. He imagined how good it would be to bite down hard and sever that black and purple slime-covered tentacle. He dreamed that he would fight back and hurt the beast that had given him such pain and fear.

A tentacle slipped around his throat. It stretched out, growing thinner and thinner. The tip thinned to a fine thread that flicked across the view of his sleeping, all-seeing eyes.

The thread reached toward Harts’s eye. His eyelids flickered with the nightmare. The tentacle thread slipped under the eyelid and sought out the pupil. The thread slipped into the pupil and reached down to the nerve at the back.

Bill Harts tried to pull away. He tried to lash out with his arms and kick out with his feet, but he was stuck. His arms and leg remained static, limp and unmoving.

More tentacles thinned down to fine threads. They slid in to his ears and up his nostrils. He felt their cold slime feeling their way through his brain, triggering memory and thought.

The noise was deafening as he heard the Chitin voice. The Chitins wanted to know who he was. They wanted to know how they could use him. They wanted to know how to control him.

Bill Harts knew he was betraying mankind as he told the Chitins everything he knew. He could not resist. He was not in control of his body or his mind. The tentacles found what they wanted and what they needed. Bill Harts was conscious of his own mind giving up every scrap of information it had. The Chitins drew it from him as easily as they could draw blood from an artery. They discovered the knowledge that Bill Harts didn’t even know he had. Every sight and sound and smell that he had ever experienced was drawn out by the thin black tentacles that threaded their way through every part of his being.

The Chitins rejected useless information. His childhood was discarded as worthless. Harts felt the loss as all memory of his early days faded away, the color of his existence washed out of the fabric of his being.

The Chitins found the memories of life in the Fleet Marines. Every moment was studied and analyzed in minute detail. Bill became aware of nothing else. His existence was a tableau of frozen images. A ship of the fleet…a pulse rifle…a Fleet Marine parade…a commanding officer…a control panel of a landing craft. The information was drained from Bill Harts as the tentacle turned his mind on like a faucet and drained information as if it was pouring water.

Bill Harts was aware of one last thing, and that was the tear that welled up in the corner of his eye as utter helplessness overwhelmed him.

As the Chitins probed his being, he became more aware of their mind. He saw their home in the massive oceans far below the clouds of their gas giant world. He saw their spawning grounds. He watched them grow, learn, build, attack. Harts became aware of their previous attempts to drain knowledge from captured humans, aware of the traumatic, fatal attempts to probe the hundreds of individuals captured and dragged here. Harts was aware of the million memories of all those people captured by the Chitins, captured from ships both military and civilian, captured from facilities on moons and asteroids through the system. Lives, both young and old, all broken and ended by the Chitin tentacles in their attempt to study humans. He knew their ultimate goal: to control a human and to occupy a human mind.

Every attempt until this moment had led to an improvement in their technique. And now, success.

Bill Harts was free. He was awake. Aware. The tentacles were gone. His body was clothed. His mind was alert. He was alive. He remembered everything. He remembered nothing. Bill Harts was ready to return to world he’d left. He was ready to return to the fleet.

1

The debrief room was lit by a harsh white light emanating from the translucent ceiling. A brushed metal table and chairs sat in the middle of the room. Jack Forge sat uncomfortably on one of the chairs.

The Fleet Marine 6th Squad was being interviewed following their mission on Kratos, the outer moon of the gas giant planet, Penthus. Jack was waiting for his turn. He’d been waiting for some time. Over an hour, he guessed.

Jack stared at the door until he knew every last scratch and stain. He didn’t know what he could say about the destruction of the Chitin Leviathan. All he knew was that somehow, they had turned an energy transfer device into a weapon capable of destroying a Chitin Leviathan, one of their most destructive craft.

The fleet was buzzing excitedly with rumors that the fleet was testing new weapons that could destroy the Chits once and for all. Jack didn’t know how it had worked. It had been Sarah Reyes’s plan. Maybe she knew, but the last Jack had heard of Reyes was that she was being held in isolation in the Scorpio’s med bay.

The door burst open. Jack stood, his hands at his sides. The woman who entered was dressed in the severe dark uniform of a military intelligence officer. She pulled her chair out, scraping it across the floor, and dropped a computer tablet on the metal table with a thump. She sat down.

“Sit, Marine.” It was an order.

Jack sat down. His heart pounded in his chest. This was an agent. She wasn’t here to interview Jack and write a report on the Battle of Kratos Fuel Station. An agent was always deployed to keep a battalion in line, to sniff out disobedience, dereliction, and possible collusion with the enemy.

“I am Agent Visser. I will be frank with you, Marine. You need to be frank with me. If I am not satisfied with your responses, I will deploy more forceful techniques. We will know the truth.”

There was one truth Jack could not reveal. He suddenly knew why Agent Visser was here.

“When did you last see Commander Finch?” Visser asked with no hint of emotion in her cold voice.

Realizing immediately that any movement or flicker of emotion could give him away, Jack answered calmly. “When we scouted the Chitin construction site on Kratos.”

“Yes,” Visser said. She tapped on the tablet in front of her. “You were flogged during your training. Do you have a problem with authority, Marine?”

Jack could suddenly feel the raised scars on his back touching his shirt. The pain of the flogging never went away, but what hurt most was the realization that his loyalty to the Fleet Marines would always be questioned.

“I follow orders,” he said coolly.

“You like to give them too.” Visser flicked her fingers across the small tablet screen. A hologram of Jack talking to Squad Leader Torent appeared. It was a recent surveillance recording of Jack in a vocal and animated disagreement with Torent. Jack watched the recording and remembered the argument over tactics in a training simulation. He remembered the moment well. Torent pulling rank and Jack arguing loudly. Jack knew his approach would be best. Torent usually listened, but on this occasion, he had dug in his heels and was being obstinate.

Jack looked past the image to Agent Visser. She had her eyes fixed on him.

“That’s just the way we talk to each other sometimes.” Jack shrugged and smiled.

“That is the way you talk to your squad leader, with such familiarity and contempt for his leadership position?”

“We are old friends.”

Visser scrolled across her tablet and presented another hologram. This was from the bunkhouse on training moon, taken just days before the training squad’s battle with the Chits. It was the moment Jack accused Torent of stealing his family’s watch. Jack was challenging Torent. The pair were snarling at each other. The fight quickly erupted.

“You don’t look very friendly,” Visser said, sitting back in her chair. The hologram paused with Jack and Torent fully engaged in their fistfight. The image flickered. Jack could make out the figure of Bill Harts sitting on his bunk. It had been Harts who had created the bad feeling between Jack and Torent by stealing Jack’s watch and planting it on Torent. The hologram showed the delight on Harts’s face as Jack and Torent slugged it out.

“That was a long time ago,” Jack said, slumping back angrily into his own chair.

“I’ve compiled a lot of hologramatic surveillance data from onboard the Scorpio. Having studied the data, I’ve been able to quickly establish that you and Commander Finch were not friends.”

It was true. Jack had hated Finch. The Commander of Cobra Company had been an arrogant idiot. He was a poor tactician. He had a poor understanding of the Marines under his command. And in the end, Jack had discovered that Finch was a coward.

“No, sir,” Jack said firmly. “We were not friends. He was my commanding officer.”

“Did you like Commander Finch?”

“To be frank?” Jack asked.

Visser fixed Jack with her cold blue eyes. “Be frank.”

“No, sir. I did not like Commander Finch. He was not a good officer.”

“Your commanding officers don’t last very long after meeting you, Marine.”

Jack felt his heart in his mouth. If the agent suspected Jack of killing an officer, the penalty would be a slow and painful death. It was true that his training commander had died during the battle of training moon and Finch had died... Jack pushed the thought of Finch’s death from his mind. His story was that Finch had gone missing, which was at least partly true.

“Sir?” Jack said as mildly as he could. “I liked Lieutenant Crippin. She was a good instructor. I was sorry when she was killed. She was a good Marine.”

Visser tapped her tablet and played a hologram of Crippin’s death. Jack looked away as the fine, whip-like plasma threads slashed at Crippin and Sergeant Hacker as they fought a battling retreat. Jack had been there and had seen it from afar; he couldn’t stand to watch it again.

“And now Commander Finch has been lost. You were the last person to be seen with him. Have you got anything to add to your report?”

“No, sir.” Jack felt his chest tighten. If Agent Visser had hologram recordings of his training camp bunkhouse fight with Torent and the deaths of Crippin and Hacker, they must surely have recordings of Commander Finch and his last moments. If he was going to get called out for lying, it would be now. He would be in serious trouble, and certainly face another flogging that would tear up his already badly scarred back, but he would probably not face the noose. Reyes, on the other hand, would stand trial for the murder of an officer. Such trials were short, sentences brutal, and execution of the sentence was usually carried out on the same day. Jack held his breath.

“So we have to accept your account and your account only, as there were no other witnesses. You and Commander Finch performed a reconnaissance of the Chitin position. On your return to the Marine landing craft, Finch lost his composure. I’m quoting from your report now, Marine. Finch lost his composure when it was clear the Scorpio was leaving orbit and that he then ran off through the sand tree structures of Kratos, yelling for the Scorpio to come back. You then encountered maintenance technician Sarah Reyes piloting a Chitin suit. An eventful reconnoiter.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Anything to add to the official report?” Visser sat up slowly. She stood and leaned on the table, leaning in closer to Jack. “Last chance, Marine.”

“If I think of anything important...” Jack began.

“Everything is important in my investigation, Marine.” Visser turned and walked toward the door.

“You didn’t ask me about Bill Harts,” Jack called out, quickly adding, “sir.”

Visser stopped in her tracks. She turned and walked around the table. She grabbed Jack’s collar and pulled him close. “I don’t know what happened on that moon, but if I find out you are hiding something from me, we will meet again. You will be sorry if we do.”

Visser dropped Jack back into his chair and left the room. The door remained open, swinging gently on its hinges. Jack hadn’t received orders to leave the debrief room. He swung back on his chair, hands behind his head, and looked out through the open door. Hopefully, someone would spot him and tell him to leave. Until then, he was under orders to stay where he was.

Agent Visser obviously had no evidence against him, or Reyes. If there was a holoimage showing Reyes attacking Finch and the resulting fatal stab wound, she would be executed for causing the death of an officer, whether she was comatose or not. She would probably be medically revived long enough to hear the sentence and maybe long enough to experience some of the horror of her brutal execution. They would not wait for her to fully recover before ending her life.

Jack needed to speak to Reyes. She had no way of knowing the account that Jack had given. It was true, at least steeped in truth. Finch had lost his cool and been lost under the sands of Kratos. His body might be recovered one day, but it would probably be impossible to tell how he had died, thanks to the corrosive nature of the thin Kratos atmosphere. His body was probably already corroded away to dust. But if Reyes woke and gave a story that deviated from Jack’s in even the slightest, they would both be under investigation.

Fleet Intelligence was as brutal as they were thorough. Jack would have to get to Reyes first. The corridor outside the debrief room was quiet. Jack stood up from his chair and quietly walked to the open door. He risked a peek out into the corridor. It was empty.

“If anyone asks,” he said to himself, “I’ll say I thought the interview was over.”

Jack walked out of the interview room. The Scorpio was a big ship and it would take him a while to get to the med bay. If he was lucky, Reyes would be awake and waiting for him so he could speak to her before Agent Visser did.

Jack moved quickly and quietly.

2

The white walls of the med bay were supposed to suggest cleanliness, but now they just showed the grime that covered every surface of the ship. The clear composite panels that separated various sections of the med bay had the streaked and milky appearance of any unwashed clear composite surface.

The nurses’ station was unoccupied, only plastic cups of stale coffee on the table top gave any signs that it was ever occupied. Jack passed by.

The beds behind the clear composite panels were occupied by the sick and wounded of the ship’s company. A ship the size of the Scorpio had so many personnel that an understaffed med bay always had more bodies than it could deal with.

Walking along the line of compartments, Jack looked for Reyes. She had been in a coma when they had been rescued by the Scorpio. Most of 6th squad had been brought to the med bay for treatment after the Battle of Kratos Fuel Station. Jack had only been treated for dehydration and a touch of hypothermia. Torent had received extensive treatment for a heavy laceration to his left shoulder. Reyes had been rushed away as a medical emergency. She’d been in the med bay for several days.

At the far end of the paneled corridor, Jack saw two Marines from Adder Company standing on either side of the entrance to Reyes’s compartment. They were in utility uniform with a pulse pistol strapped to their right leg. The heavy white baton each held was their main weapon of deterrence. Jack knew that anyone attempting to pass the Marine guard would be beaten back by those batons. The pulse pistols were the final fatal alternative.

The Marines noticed Jack’s approach. One tapped his baton against his boot, while the other held his across his shoulders.

“Sup, Marine?” the guard with the shoulder-slung baton called out to Jack.

“What’s A Company doing down here?” Jack called back and continued to walk forward.

“Following orders,” the boot-tapping Marine answered.

Jack stepped up in front of the guards. They brought their batons forward in a swift and synchronized move. They pointed the polished tips forward toward Jack.

“That’s far enough, Marine.”

Jack held his hands up. “Just wanted to check in on my friend.”

The boot tapper pushed his baton into Jack’s shoulder. “No visitors.”

Jack looked past the Marines to the comatose Reyes. She was hooked up to a diagnostic machine, and her face was covered by a breathing mask. Her chest heaved in time with the beeping machine.

“Let me in for a second, eh, guys?” Jack used his best diplomatic smile.

The Marine guards turned stony cold and took a step forward, their batons pressed into Jack’s chest.

“Walk away, Forge,” the boot-tapper said, “unless you want me to smack you on your turnip with this highly polished chunk of timber.”

Jack hesitated for a second. He’d been called by name. “Do you know me?” Jack asked.

“Jack Forge,” the guard said. “The whole battalion knows about you.” There was a hint of a smile. “You took down a Leviathan.”

“Just being good Marine,” Jack said modestly. Then he leaned in as if to take the pair into his confidence. “Why not let me in for just a moment?”

The pair pushed Jack away with their batons. “Orders are what they are, Forge. Now sling it or get cracked.” The guard brought his baton down against his palm and gripped it. “Hero or not, if my orders are to break your skull, I will.”

Jack stepped back with a grin. “As you were, guys. No need to check if I’ve got more brains than guts.” Jack pointed toward Reyes. “If she wakes up, will you let me know?”

“Leave now or I’ll tell Major Cruz you are trying to circumvent his orders.”

Jack took another step back. He smiled and nodded. The guards stepped back to the entrance of Reyes’s compartment. The boot-tapper resumed his tapping, and the other swung his baton back over his shoulder. Jack looked past the guards at his comatose friend in her grimy little compartment.

Jack needed to speak to Reyes before anyone else, especially the agent. He couldn’t see her taken from the hospital just to be executed.

3

The bunkhouse was quiet when Jack arrived. Some Marines were asleep in their coffin-sized bunks, while others quietly played cards under a small electric light. Jack slipped by and climbed into his bunk.

Jack had been in the debrief room for hours. Sitting and talking had never been so exhausting. He knew he’d been playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Agent Visser. She clearly suspected him of having had something to do with Finch’s disappearance, but she didn’t have any proof. The Marines recorded every moment of their operation on hundreds of sensors, scanners, and cameras, but the destruction of the Chitin Leviathan must have disabled the data collection somehow.

Jack grabbed his small personal tablet. He accessed fleet channels and searched for reports on his mission to Kratos. The fleet transmitted all data on any victory they had over the Chitins. The destruction of the Leviathan would be big news.

Jack found a story on the Battle of Kratos Fuel Station. The image on the headline was a computer graphic of a Leviathan being destroyed. The fleet should have a record of the actual destruction. The news channels would have been plastered wall to wall with movie and holograph data of the battle and in particular, the climactic destruction of the massive enemy craft.

No matter how much Jack searched, he couldn’t find a single recording from the battle. The only reason why the fleet and the Gov news agency wouldn’t be casting the whole battle, Marine fatalities and all, would be because they didn’t have the data.

Jack turned off his tablet and closed his eyes. The image of the Chit Leviathan being destroyed filled his sleepy mind. The energy from the blast must have knocked out the data recording from all the Marines and their landing craft.

All Jack had to do was get to Reyes and make sure she didn’t give herself away. He closed his eyes and let sleep wash over him.

* * *

The claxon alarm sounded and woke Jack from his light sleep. Sam Torent shouted into the bunkhouse.

“On your feet, Sixth Squad.” Torent stood in the muster point outside the stack of bunks.

Climbing down from his bunk, Jack was only vaguely aware. His actions were automatic and instinctive. He was a Marine and the call to action overcame all sleep and reluctance. He formed up with the depleted 6th squad in the muster point.

“Suit up, arm up.” Torent walked quickly along the line of Marines. “Muster on the Marine deck. Double-time, Marines. Move it!”

Jack pulled on his meat suit and grabbed his pulse rifle from the rack. He ran to the Marine deck without knowing what he was running to. But this was war and at any time, they could be called to action. He was expected to follow orders and perform his duty at a moment’s notice. He ran to the Marine deck, ready for anything, expecting anything.

6th squad formed up in minutes. A moment later, the company commander entered the Marine deck with a clean uniform and an upright gait.

“Commander on deck,” Torent called the Marines to attention.

“At ease, Marines.” The commander walked down the squad’s line. “I haven’t had chance to meet you yet. You will get to know me in time. I’m Commander Griff, the new Commander of Cobra Company.”

Griff walked back along the short line. “A fighter patrol squadron has disabled a Chitin Kraken. That Kraken has crash-landed on an asteroid. The Scorpio is the closest ship to the asteroid and you are the best squad in my company, so you are going to go down there and secure the Chit craft. Fleet want to get their hands on any Chit tech that survived. There may be some Chits that survived the crash. If they did survive, you will kill them. Questions?”

Torent stepped forward. “Squad leader, sir. How many Chits can we expect?”

“Kraken craft are thought to have a crew of up to ten Chitins. Our data is still a bit patchy since the Leviathan went down over Kratos.” Griff looked along the line of Marines until he spotted Jack. He stepped up to Jack.

“Forge?” Griff asked.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Good work taking down that Leviathan, Marine. Glad you are on our side.”

“Sir, thank you, sir.”

“Listen up, Marines,” Griff shouted. “Stay alert, listen to your squad leader, and get the job done. Landing craft standing by.” Griff turned to Jack. “We are still a bit short of co-pilots. Can you assist?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jack shouted, filling with pride and excitement. “Thank you, sir.”

“Move out, Marines. I’ll see you when you get back.” With that, Griff turned on his heel and walked off the deck.

“You heard the commander. To the landing craft. Move out.” Torent waved 6th squad toward the landing craft ramp.

Jack stepped up alongside Torent. “Why didn’t they make you company commander?”

“I’ll get there,” Torent said, pushing Jack forward. “Griff is a good officer. He was a commander in the Libra Battalion before she went down.”

Jack stepped onto the ramp. “I heard he was a hero at the Battle of Hades Lava Lake. At least he goes in with the troops sometimes.”

Torent followed Jack up the ramp. “They say he saved most of Birch Company. They say he’s good.”

Jack pulled on his helmet and opened a channel to Torent. “We’ll see,” he said.

“You sure you can fly this thing?” Torent asked, closing the landing craft ramp.

“You know how to fire that pulse rifle?” Jack walked to the cockpit.

“When I make commander, you will show me the proper amount of respect, Forge.” Torent stepped into his alcove and strapped himself in.

“Yes, boss,” Jack replied and then listened to the pilot for instructions on the final pre-flight checks.

4

The landing craft touched down on the asteroid and Jack was sorry that the short flight was over so soon. Torent called 6th squad to form up outside the craft. Jack unclipped his restraints and grabbed the pulse rifle from its holder next to his seat. He was down the ramp and formed up with his squad in moments, the disappointment that the flight was over replaced by excitement at the job ahead.

Torent was down on one knee and studying the horizon with his field scanner. Jack knelt next to him. A deep furrow had been gouged out of the asteroid surface where the Chitin Kraken had skidded across it, carving its way through ice and rock before reaching its final resting place.

Terry stood behind Jack and Torent. “Where’s this kravin ship, eh?”

“About two hundred meters that way.” Torent pointed along the deep furrow.

“Why didn’t you put us down next to the kravin thing, Jack?” Terry nudged Jack in the back with his knee.

Jack stood up and faced Terry. “What if there are Chit soldiers alive in that wreck? You want them to blast us out of the void before we land?”

“Think you are so smart, don’t you, Forge?”

“Stop your spat, you two.” Torent stood and pocketed his field scanner. “Jack, take Osho and Gas. Advance toward the Kraken on the right of this furrow. I’ll take Terry and Bubble and advance down the left. Noise and light discipline, Marines. Keep quiet and hidden. Go.”

Jack led the way. His suit’s enhanced data overlay showed him the position of Torent and his team. The position of the Chit craft was highlighted, although it was currently out of sight, its position having been identified by the orbiting Scorpio.

The Chit ship suddenly came into view. Torent called to Jack. “Hold position. Can you see any movement?”

Jack brought his field scanner to his helmet. The distant dark image of the crashed Kraken came clearly into view. The edges of the craft stood out from the dark background. Jack could see a breach in the hull of the craft. He focused his field scanner and zoomed in on the breach. The scanner and his helmet’s image enhancers did little to penetrate the darkness inside.

“I can see a breach in the hull.” Jack looked over to Torent on the other side of the furrow.

“It looks intact from this side,” Torent said. “Move up. Watch that breach.”

Jack advanced cautiously, keeping Osho and Gas behind him. His suit’s scanners watched the breach for any movement. He kept his pulse rifle up and aimed at the breach.

“Hold,” Torent hissed.

Jack went down on one knee and checked the horizon with his rifle sights. The area looked clear.

“Chit movement to my left,” Torent said. “I count two, maybe three, holding up behind that small ridge there.”

Jack looked to his left and past Torent. There was a small ridge on the surface of the asteroid. The ridge’s right side was obscured from Jack’s view by the crashed Kraken. “Can’t see them from here, boss.” The location appeared on the enhanced data overlay on Jack’s helmet. “Okay, boss,” Jack said. “Got their location now.”

“Listen up, squad,” Torent said. “Jack, take your team around the Kraken and take a flanking position on those Chits about fifty meters out from their right. Once you are in position, we will advance hard and fast and take them down. What do you say, Jacky?”

Jack scanned the area. He could move across the uneven surface of the asteroid with ease. His team were skilled veterans and they would keep up. The breach in that Chitin Kraken looked threatening. He would keep a close watch on that breach in case any Chit decided to emerge. They wouldn’t last long if they did. It was a risk to split the squad, but if they could outflank the Chits that Torent had spotted and fix them in a cross-fire, they would overcome their enemy rapidly. It was a good plan, not without its dangers, but that was part of life in the Marines.

“It’s a good plan, boss. I’ll be in position in five.” Jack looked over to Torent on the other side of the furrow.

“Copy, that,” Torent said, looking over to Jack. “Stay sharp, Jack. Go.”

Using hand signals, Jack instructed Osho and Gas that he wanted silence as they advanced. He signaled for Gas to stay close behind on his left, Osho on his right. He indicated he would watch the breach in the Chitin craft. He received the thumbs up from Osho and Gas and then he advanced, staying low and moving fast.

“Moving now, boss,” Jack messaged to Torent.

The darkness inside the downed Kraken was impossible to ignore as they advanced, moving around the craft to set up a cross-fire on the Chits hiding behind the small ridge. Jack expected a Chit to burst out at any moment, plasma spears flashing toward him. He was ready for anything.

The interior of the Chitin craft was suddenly illuminated in a bright white light as a plasma spear was fired from within. The spear flashed past Jack. A near-miss.

“Gas is down. Oh, krav. They got Gas,” Osho babbled.

Jack’s pulse rifle was spitting return fire into the breach before Osho finished her frenzied report.

“Contact, contact,” Jack called out. “Chits in the Kraken.”

“Contact,” Torent reported. “Chits on the ridge. Open fire, krav it. Open fire.”

“Oh, krav it. Gas is dead.” Osho was lying in the loose icy rock surface and firing wildly. “The Chits got him in the helmet.”

The change from silent advance to noisy, frenetic firefight was sudden, but for Jack, it was all to be expected. His focus switched immediately from stealthy advance to combat without hesitation. He targeted the breach in the Chitin craft and poured fire into the darkness within.

“Here they come,” Torent shouted into the squad channel. “I count eight coming over the ridge. Focus fire on the lead Chit.”

Jack looked across the deep gouge of the Kraken’s crash trail and saw the Chitin soldiers coming into view. He took careful aim and fired into the lead Chit. It fell, tentacles thrashing the ground, throwing up a spray of dust and ice. The following Chits trampled it under their own writhing tentacles and continued their advance on Torent and his small team.

“Light up your EBs,” Torent called. “Stand and fight.”

Jack saw the electron bayonets burst to life, their piercing glow lighting up the dark. He saw the remaining Chits illuminated, the glow of the EBs flickering off their smooth shells.

“Sam. Boss,” Jack called out. “Employ combat retreat. If you fall back, I can hit them with flanking fire.”

“Copy that, Jacky. Falling back. Keep up the fire.”

Jack saw the three pulse rifles delivering a punishing volley as the three Marines moved backwards. Jack and Osho poured their own fire into the flanking Chit. A plasma spear slashed across the ground in front of Jack, melting the icy soil and throwing up a burst of steam. Plasma spears from the group of Chit soldiers advancing on the retreating Torent slashed through the darkness, glinting off the shells of Chits and the meat suits of Torent’s team.

Another Chit fell to Jack and Osho’s fire, and then another went down under sustained fire from Torent and his team. Jack targeted the next closest and rained a vicious, well-aimed stream of fire. The rounds slammed into the Chit, throwing up fragments of shells and guts.

The small group of Chits had been cut down quickly and only three remained, their plasma spears slashing out toward Torent, Terry, and Bubble.

“Keep up the fire. Take them down.” Jack stood up. He kicked Osho to urge her to her feet. She looked up at Jack and shook her head. Jack transferred his pulse rifle to his left hand and tugged Osho to her feet with his right. “On your feet. We’ve got to close in. On your feet, Marine.”

Pulling at Osho and firing simultaneously, Jack moved slowly and he lost accuracy. He shouted and kicked at Osho again. “On your feet, Marine.” Osho finally clambered up. “Fire your weapon, Marine,” Jack shouted and pulled Osho toward the slope down into the gully that separated them from the rest of the squad. A plasma spear leaped out of the downed Kraken and slammed into the ground where Osho had been laying just a moment before. The rock glowed red and the ice turned to steam in a fraction of a second, sending a jet of vapor blasting into space.

“Fire at the Chits.” Jack advanced more quickly and his aim was more accurate now that Osho was on her feet and moving without being pulled.

As Jack reached the slope on the other side of the gully, the Chitin soldiers were hidden from view. He could see the flashes of light from their plasma spears and the flickering of the Fleet Marine pulse rifles laying down a sustained fire. Jack began to scramble up the slope.

Another plasma spear from the Kraken slammed into the slope just above his head. Jack and Osho scrambled up undeterred. Finally reaching the top, Jack saw there were only two Chits still active. They were moving toward the retreating Torent, slowed only by the many pulse rifle rounds that slammed into them.

Jack had the targets at close range. A few seconds more and the fight would be over. He opened fire at the nearest Chit, and after having already taken a beating from Torent’s team, it fell almost instantly. The last went down, tentacles thrashing wildly. A final plasma spear fired, but it was un-aimed and fizzed away safely overhead.

Jack climbed out of the gully, and a plasma spear slammed into the side of the gully moments after Jack had climbed up. He lay on the ground and looked back to the crashed Kraken. Osho lay next to him on her back and checked her weapon.

“Still one more in the Kraken,” Jack reported. “Sam, we need to dig out that Chit.”

“The boss is hit,” Bubble’s voice came over Jack’s helmet speaker. Jack could hear the emotion in the big man’s voice. “He’s alive, but he needs to get back to the Scorpio.”

“We can’t bug out yet, Bubble. We have to secure that Kraken.” Jack pulled up his field scanner and studied the breach in the craft. It was dark and quiet again. Jack couldn’t detect any movement. He was sure if he stood up, he would receive a plasma spear.

“Finish the job, Jack.” Torent’s voice was weak. “Secure the Kraken.”

“Yes, boss,” Jack said, scurrying back from the edge of the gully. “I’ll advance from the right. Terry, you advance from the left. We’ll have to go in there after the kravin thing. Ready?”

But before Terry could respond, Jack noticed the fine lines in the surface of the Kraken light up with a bright white light. It rippled through the network of delicate, twisting lines that covered all Chitin exteriors from the soldiers to the massive Leviathan. Jack knew what it meant. It meant the Chitin had set the Kraken to self-destruct. It meant Jack and 6th squad had only moments to leave the area. It meant they had lost.

“Fall back. Fall back, on the double.” Jack was clambering to his feet. “That Chit craft is going to blow. Move. Move. Move.”

Jack ran. He knew Osho could keep up and she had started running the same time he had. Up ahead, Jack saw the other three remaining members of 6th squad. Sam Torent was being carried by his squad-mates. As Jack got closer, he could see the wound Torent had sustained. His right arm was missing, taken clean off below the shoulder. Jack saw an electron bayonet glowing white from the tip of a pulse rifle on the black surface of the asteroid, and attached to that pulse rifle was Torent’s hand, finger still on the trigger. The rest of the arm was missing, vaporized by a Chit plasma spear.

The shockwave hit as the Kraken exploded, sending Jack and the squad sprawling forward. The ground lurched as the asteroid shook with the force of the explosion. Cracks appeared across the asteroid, which had already been weakened by the Kraken’s crash landing and then the heavy weapons fire. The fractures that raced across the asteroid’s thin crust erupted with steam as the icy interior boiled.

“Move, move, move,” Jack shouted, urging the Marines forward. The landing craft was only a few hundred meters away, but between them lay a minefield of gaseous eruptions.

Jack and Osho caught up with Torent, Terry, and Bubble. Jack grabbed Terry’s arm and pulled him along. Osho went to the other side of the chain and pulled Bubble along, all of them pulling Torent across the erupting asteroid.

The ramp was down. Lights all around the landing craft showed the finish line and safety. It urged them to hurry. The five reached the ramp, gas jets erupting all around. Jack pushed the surviving members of 6th squad up the ramp one by one. With Osho safely on the ramp, he climbed up himself.

“All aboard, pilot. Get us out of here.” Jack watched the asteroid disintegrate into a thousand house-sized boulders. Somewhere amongst that debris were the remains of the Chitin Kraken and its crew. Somewhere out there was Torent’s right arm. And somewhere amongst that rock and ice was the body of the Marine they all knew as Gas, 6th squad’s latest casualty in the war against the Chitins.

5

A gurney drone was waiting on the flight deck for 6th squad to return. Jack and the pilot raced through the post-flight checks and watched through the cockpit window as Torent was taken to the med bay. His arm severed just above the elbow, the meat suit was melted and hung in long globular strands.

The moment the pilot dismissed Jack, he was up and out of his seat. He ran full tilt toward the med bay. With only a few turns left, Jack caught up with Torent and the gurney drone. He came alongside his squad leader, his squad-mate, and his friend.

“Sam?” Torent was still wearing his meat suit, the helmet preventing Jack from checking Torent’s state. “Sam?” Jack called again.

The gurney pushed through the double-doors to the med bay. A nurse came and pulled Jack to the side as a doctor and a drone surgeon began treating Torent.

“Is he going to be okay?” Jack asked, straining to look around the large drone surgeon and doctor as they pulled the meat suit away from Torent’s limp body.

The doors burst open again and Jack turned to see who had entered. He was surprised to see Commander Griff march in and dismiss the nurse.

Jack turned to see who had entered. He was surprised to see the company commander standing there. Jack saluted and snapped to attention.

“Let the med team do their work, Marine.”

“Sir, yes, sir. Like we did ours.” Jack looked Griff in the eye. “Sixth squad was down to half-strength, Commander. Why did you send an under-strength squad against an unknown enemy force?”

Looking into Griff’s cold, grey eyes, Jack suddenly felt a chill. Everyone knew about Commander Griff. He had been one of the best commanders and was surely due for a promotion to major and given charge of a battalion. But Jack had spoken. He would have to hear Griff’s reply.

“You think you are the only Marine to do any fighting, Forge?” Griff’s eyes burrowed in to Jack’s. “We’ve got a carrier group working their way through the asteroid belt, clearing out Chit garrisons one rock at a time. Three battalions fighting tooth and nail. You think you are the only squad in this war? You think you are the only squad taking casualties?”

“Sir, no, sir.”

“I don’t want to see you Marines beaten and busted, but I’m a commander and it’s my duty to send men like you to the fight. I understand you are quite the field operator, Forge. Battle of Training Moon. That stunt with the Leviathan. You are a good Marine, Forge. I wish I had a hundred like you.”

“Sir, I wish I wasn’t so good. Maybe if I failed at being a Marine, the fleet would kick my ass back to the university.”

“But you are good, that’s why you are still alive. I’ve been watching your fight on the meat suit data steam back in the Marine operation center and you are the reason he is alive too.” Griff pointed at Torent. The surgeon was cutting Torent’s arm to create a clean cut of flesh and bone.

Jack watched the surgeon drone attach a clamp around Torent’s upper arm, a ring of black composite that pulled tight and attached itself firmly. The doctor checked around the many working arms of the surgeon drone as a black liquid was sprayed over the still bleeding stump.

“Sixth squad needs a new squad leader, at least until Torent is all fixed up,” Griff said. “You like telling your commanding officers what to do, Forge. Would you like to suggest someone?”

“Everyone likes Osho. Bubble is a bit quiet. Terry is a loudmouth and gets angry, but he does have natural authority.” Jack watched the drone attach an endcap over Torent’s black, sticky stump and attach it to the black composite collar.

“What about you?”

“Squad leader?” Jack let out a humorless laugh. “I never even wanted to be here. I never wanted any of this. All I want is to live in peace.”

“Jack,” Griff said calmly, “every Marine in this fleet wants peace. You think I want to see men chewed up like this?”

“Sir, no, sir.”

“Forge, you are insubordinate at best, mutinous at worst, but you have a good head for strategy. You are thoughtful, and you know the people in your squad, you know what makes them tick. And they like you, even the ones who don’t like you. You got the duty, Jack. You are squad leader now. You copy, Marine?”

The realization of what was happening came over Jack slowly. And then it hit him. Squad leader. It seemed such a responsibility. He snapped to attention. “Sir, yes, sir. I won’t let you down, sir.”

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about your squad. Make sure you don’t let them down.”

As Griff marched away, Jack watched Torent be moved into one of the compartments. The nurse let Jack follow the gurney. Torent was still in a medically-induced sleep. His arm looked neat, the black composite endcap covering the short stump. A burn across his neck and chest where the plasma spear had cooked his flesh was cover with a white ointment that smelled like rancid fat.

“I hope you don’t think you are getting out of sixth squad this easy,” Jack said. He remembered the first time he’d met Torent. He had come to the military instead of serving time in a prison for theft. Torent had given so much to the Marines, he was a good leader and no longer a thief. The kravin Chits had stolen his arm. Jack was sure Torent would want to pay them back for that.

Stepping out of the compartment, Jack noticed the Marine guard outside the closed door of Sarah Reyes’s compartment. He’d only been gone for a few hours, but it seemed like a lifetime since he’d last tried to see her. He took a few faltering steps toward the guards. One of the guards, a fat Marine from Boa Company, took a step forward and with a slight shake of his head, told Jack that Reyes was still in a coma, and he would not be letting Jack see her. She was still under close guard. It seemed Agent Visser was doing everything she could to make sure she was the first person to talk to Reyes when she finally regained consciousness.

The nurse passed Jack in the corridor, she gave him a half-smile. “Your friend will be fine. I’ve seen a lot worse, Marine.” She put a comforting arm on Jack’s arm.

“And what about her down at the end?” Jack asked. “I worked with her in maintenance.”

The nurse looked along the corridor. “I’ve only been in there once. They are keeping her isolated for some reason. But I heard the doctor say she could wake up at any moment, or she might not wake up at all. To be honest, we don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

Jack thanked the nurse and stared at the far door, closed to him and everyone except Fleet Intelligence.

The med bay was becoming too familiar. Two of his closest friends lay here unconscious. Jack feared that more of his friends from 6th squad would be sent here before this war was over. Then Jack checked himself. No, 6th squad were not his friends, not anymore. Now that he was squad leader, they were no longer his friends. They were his responsibility.

6

The Marine deck showed just how undermanned Cobra Company really was. The areas marked out in the floor for each squad were occupied only up to 6th squad. The areas marked out for squads seven through to twelve were empty.

Squads one through five were at full strength, but six was undermanned. Jack stood at the side of his squad. They were a pitiful sight, three Marines and a squad leader. It was the smallest squad in the entire Scorpio Battalion, possibly the smallest squad in the entire Fleet Marine Corps.

They were small in number, but they were highly experienced, battle-hardened, and skilled. They had experienced the most brutal training of any squad in the fleet, having fought off a Chitin attack during their initial training. They had fought together and brought down one of the enemy’s most powerful vessels. They may have only been in a few skirmishes and never in a full-blown battle, but they were able and they were tough. Jack was proud to be their squad leader.

The five squad leaders walked over to Jack. They had not had much time to get to know 6th squad and now they were on their second squad leader. The tall leader of 1st squad, Joe Navidi, led the way.

Navidi had transferred to the Fleet Marines from the Eros Police Service. He had at first been refused the transfer because the police service was so understaffed. Navidi had finally won his transfer on his seventh appeal. He had his arms behind his back and walked confidently.

Navidi was flanked by Ben Horan of 2nd squad and Corry Allen of 3rd squad. Horan and Allen had come through training together, and they had been a formidable team. They had been through the same training camp as Jack and the rest of 6th squad. Their time in training had become legend on the training moon, and throughout the fleet. It was rumored they had been tested out for squad leader by the training commander, Lieutenant Crippin, with a bare-knuckle fight. The fight had gone on for over an hour, with both Horan and Allen losing liters of blood, sweat, and snot before Crippin called a draw and named them joint squad leaders, the first and only time the fleet had ever allowed it. Jack had heard that the two had met secretly to finish the fight and fought a full night before one finally triumphed. Neither Marine ever said who had won.

Behind Navidi came Taku Folau of 4th squad and the leader of 5th squad, Stuart Laidlaw. Folau was newly appointed, becoming squad leader after the previous leader had been discharged for allowed a barbecue in the 4th squad muster area. The entire squad had been poisoned by undercooked meat. The former squad leader was awaiting sentencing, and everyone expected a flogging and a return to a training camp would be likely. Folau was a veteran of a few skirmishes and had killed a Chitin singlehanded in the corridors of the Scorpio when they had boarded the ship for the first time.

Laidlaw had never seen combat. He was a university graduate with a degree in psychology and had volunteered for service the day after graduating. He was clever, fit, and funny. Jack was worried that a taste of combat would either knock the humor out of him or make him so darkly funny that he’d be reassigned to fleet entertainments. He held his pulse rifle lightly. Jack hoped he would be able to use it when the time came.

Navidi offered his hand. “Well done on your promotion, Jack.” Navidi’s voice was deep and Jack felt it resonate in his chest.

Jack shook hands and went to the next. Horan and Allen both gave Jack a surprisingly light handshake, given their reputation as bareknuckle boxers. Folau’s handshake was firm, his voice and demeanor serious.

Lastly came Laidlaw. “You are kraved now,” he said, smiling broadly. He spoke in such a way that he could read a pulse rifle specification sheet and make it sound funny. He shook Jack’s hand warmly.

Jack felt himself take a fraction of a step back toward his squad, his small three-man squad. He stopped himself and joined in with the squad leaders’ banter. They were a group to themselves. Not able to spend time together regularly but bound by the same responsibility. They chatted lightly about anything except the Fleet Marines.

“We play poker,” Laidlaw said to Jack. “Thursday nights in the main mess hall, under the Scorpio emblem. If you are not on an operation, come and take all Allen’s credits.”

“Just watch out for the king in his lap,” Allen added, shoving Laidlaw hard.

“Knock it off, guys,” Laidlaw said. “You’ll make Jacky here think we’re all as bad at cards as Folau is at having fun.”

“I can have fun,” Folau said humorlessly.

Commander Griff walked onto the Marine deck. Navidi called the company to attention. The six squad leaders snapped to attention in their huddle.

“At ease, Marines. Positions, Squad Leaders.”

Jack stepped back and took his position beside 6th squad. The others marched to their positions beside their squads.

The deck fell silent, with only the sound of Griff’s boots echoing off the deck plates. Jack could sense the unease rippling through the squads. Why were they being held here? What were they waiting for? There was only one reason the entire company was being assembled. Orders. Action. Jack felt himself grow nervous for a moment. He had only just survived one deployment. How soon before he would have to face those Chitins again?

“Attention,” Commander Griff said, clear and cold. Cobra Company came to attention as a single Marine. Then the holoimage of Major Cruz appeared on the holostage embedded. The battalion major was seated behind a desk. He leaned back in his chair and casually returned Griff’s salute. When Cruz spoke, it was so quiet that Jack had to strain to hear.

“Cobra Company. Starting today, you are to begin a series of training simulations of attacks on a fixed Chitin position, including landing, rapid deployment, and assault.”

Major Cruz’s image stared out at Cobra Company with Commander Griff standing alongside him. “Sorry we haven’t got a full company for you, Commander,” Cruz said to Griff. “A bit short on numbers. Still, I’m sure you’ll get the best out of them.”

The holoimage of Cruz was distracted. He turned his gaze back to the assembled company. “You have your orders, Commander. Carry on.”

Cruz’s image flickered away without another word. As soon as his image was gone, Griff turned to face Cobra Company.

“At ease, Marines. Training begins now. Squad Leaders, I want you in the simulations. Don’t let your squads do all the work, but don’t go trying to take all the glory for yourself either. Report to me at the end of each watch with stats on your performance. That’s three times a day, and I want improved stats every time. Do you get me, Squad Leaders?”

Jack called out instinctively and he heard the others shouting out too. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Marines, there will be a scoreboard. Best squad at the end of day gets an evening in VR on an entertainment program of your choice. Worst squad gets a simulation rerun on the day’s training. Do you get me, Marines?”

Cobra Company shouted out, five squads of a dozen each, and 6th squad with its three Marines and squad leader. The reply was bold and ear-crushing.

“Sir, yes, sir.”

“Good. Get it done. Over to you, Squad Leaders.” Griff turned and walked toward the exit.

“Commander departing,” Navidi called out. “Company, attention.”

Cobra Company stamped in unison as they came to attention. Jack hoped they could work this well together when the plasma spears were fizzing around their ears. Time would tell, and if they were training and preparing for an assault on a fixed Chitin position, that time was coming soon.

7

The environment was unfamiliar to Jack. It was a rocky desert with low jagged hills. The Chit fixed position was situated only five hundred meters away and five meters below the surface. Access to the underground position was through a natural cave mouth. Jack called in all data from the simulated orbital craft and other ground units.

Chit sentries had been positioned between the many hills, while an unknown number of Chit soldiers were in the underground bunker. With only one entry point, there was only one option: a difficult and deadly frontal assault. It would be murder for a company, and Jack had only a three-man squad. Jack guessed he would do well not to bring in the lowest score of the session.

“If we sit here the whole time,” Terry said, “maybe they will die of boredom.”

“Keep your voice down,” Jack hissed. He swiped his hands across the ground and opened a holomap, the locations of the Chit sentries appearing as small pink dots on the flickering green map.

“Call in an orbital strike on that hole,” Terry said, “and let’s get out of here.”

“Orbital support is not responding to fire mission requests. The simulation stated that all orbital guns are defending the carrier group from a sustained Kraken assault. We are to neutralize the surface Chitins and then request evac.”

Osho pointed at two of the sentries. “We can take these two out and then lay some charges at the cave mouth.”

“Sounds good. Who’s laying the demolition?” Bubble’s voice quivered. Every Marine knew it was only a training simulation and no one was going to get hurt, but the simulation was so real that it was making Bubble nervous.

“No one is bombing that cave entrance until we find out what is in that cave.” Jack cancelled the holomap.

Terry grabbed Jack by the shoulder and twisted him around. “Bomb the bastards and let’s get out of here.”

Jack spoke slowly. “I’ll listen to all suggestions, Terry, but countermand me again and I’ll shoot you.”

Terry removed his hand.

“They gave us the demolition charges for a reason, boss,” Osho said. “Maybe we should lay the charges quickly. I bet the other squads are already taking down the sentries and getting the charges in position.”

“Yes,” Jack said. “I hope they are.”

Jack had met too many Chits to underestimate them. They were not as stupid as some Marines thought. Just because they came on in huge numbers, it didn’t mean they were mindless. They were always focused on their task. The Chitins had plans and they worked to achieve them.

Digging out the small antimatter charges from the field supply cache, Jack scanned the horizon for any movement. He checked the yield on the explosives and then handed one to each of his squad.

Terry turned his over in his hands. “We can increase the yield on these. Let me boost them up, boss.”

“No,” Jack said. He clipped one of the demo charges to his meat suit and reopened the holomap. “We are going to get in that Chit facility. They are covering the entrance, but look at this terrain—it’s jagged and broken. There must be more to that cave system. We can find another way in.”

“Why bother?” Terry said. “Seal the kravin Chits inside and the job’s done. All we have to do is kill the Chits, right?”

“No,” Jack said. He put a hand on Terry’s shoulder. “All we have to do is beat the other squads. And that’s even harder.”

“So what’s the plan?” Osho asked.

Jack signaled his squad to come closer.

“Here’s what we do.”

* * *

Jack reached his position on the south side of the Chits’ sentry perimeter. Osho had reached the west side and reported in. Bubble was moving slow, but Jack could see he was nearing position. Terry had held the first position to the north of the perimeter and directly in front of the Chit cave entrance.

Bubble reached his position and reported ready.

“Sixth Squad, stand by,” Jack said quietly into his communicator. “Lay demo and fall back.”

The squad each laid their charges five hundred meters out from the Chit cave entrance and then fell back a hundred meters. Jack checked the locations of his team on his map and then detonated the explosives.

Jack studied the holomap. The Chit sentries were moving toward their nearest detonation site. Jack saw the greatest number closing in on Bubble’s position. Terry was moving toward Bubble.

“Krav it, Terry. Hold.”

“Bubble won’t be able to hold that many back. He’ll be killed.”

Jack bit his lip. It didn’t matter if Bubble got killed. All that mattered was infiltrating that Chit position and killing whatever lay inside.

“Boss,” Osho messaged Jack. “These Chits are getting close.”

“Data coming in now. Just processing it.”

The detonation had rippled through the loose rock of the simulated environment and was reflecting back off subsurface density changes at different speeds and angles, all revealing the subsurface structure to the sensors in 6th squad’s meat suits. All data was relayed back to Jack and he quickly created a three-dimensional map of the area. The cave structure was revealed and Jack spotted what he was looking for. A small entrance a kilometer away from the main entrance. He relayed the surface coordinates to Osho.

“Osho, move. Terry, Bubble. Attack.”

Jack was up on his feet and running as the sound of distant pulse rifle fire filed the air. The crackle of plasma spears joined the din of battle, a hundred flashing lights flickering across the jagged hills of the simulated environment.

“There are too many of them,” Bubble wailed.

“Advance on the cave mouth,” Jack said. “Light up your EBs and advance. Cut through them and attack that entrance.”

Jack ran. He checked Osho’s location on his helmet data overlay. She was moving fast but had a Chit on her tail.

“Osho, you’ve got a Chit on your six. Draw the thing away from our rendezvous point. I’ll have to do it alone.”

“Copy, boss,” Osho replied. Jack heard a burst of fire from Osho’s position. He saw that she was backing away slowly.

Jack was on his own. He ran even faster than before. The firefight with Bubble and Terry was not going well. Jack had wanted a cross-fire from two positions. Terry’s decision to move gave the Chits one target. If only Terry had listened. Jack pushed the thought from his mind. All he had to do was get to that small rear cave entrance.

“They got Terry,” Bubble wailed. “He’s down. They are all over him.”

“Keep fighting, Bubs,” Jack panted. “Give me a minute of hard fighting. You hear me, Bubs?”

Bubble’s reply was replaced by his screams of terror as he was overcome by Chits.

“Osho,” Jack said, “can you get to the main entrance? I need someone to attack it.”

“Moving now, boss,” Osho replied.

Jack saw on his overlay that she was moving at an impressive speed, given she had already run a kilometer and was fighting a Chit pursuer.

Jack’s data overlay showed him the location of the rear cave entrance. It glowed on his helmet’s enhanced view, but on the ground, he could see nothing but jagged rocks. He fired up his electron bayonet and began cutting away at the ground. A small cavity appeared. Jack fell to his knees and began digging his way into the small tunnel. He got his shoulders in and was crawling furiously forward. Ahead, through the twisting, jagged little tunnel, was the central cave where Jack was sure the Chits were holding some vital piece of equipment. If he could get a demo charge in there, it wouldn’t matter if Bubble died, if Terry died, if Osho died, or even if he died. If he could destroy the reason the Chits had created this fixed, defensible position.

Then, Jack felt a firm grip on his ankle. He was suddenly pulled back out of the tunnel. He was held upside-down by a thick Chitin tentacle, his helmet before the black shiny head with the ring of white rasping teeth. The antennae on the head twitched and the teeth clamped down on his helmet.

The simulation ended and Jack was in the small VR pod, his vest soaked in sweat.

“Yeah, nice plan, boss,” Terry said, clambering down from his pod. “Split us up so we are easy pickings.”

Climbing down, Jack had an urge to punch Terry on the nose. He guessed it wouldn’t show good leadership qualities to beat on his subordinates, even if they were disobedient and thickheaded like Terry.

“I told you to hold position.” Jack walked out of the VR pod stack.

“Cobra Company, make your way to the Marine deck,” Commander Griff’s voice came over the muster area communicator.

“Next time I tell you to hold, you hold.” Jack looked up into Terry’s mean eyes.

“If there is a next time,” Terry said. “They’ll probably demote the whole squad to the laundry after that disaster.”

Osho came alongside Jack. “I think I know what you were doing. It was a good plan, I think.”

6th squad walked into the Marine deck. The holoimage on the holostage flickered on and drew a sudden round of applause and laughter from Cobra Company. Jack looked at the image. It was him, suspended upside-down, with a Chitin biting his faceplate.

“Nice plan.” Allen came forward and slapped a firm hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“We should call you digger from now on,” said Laidlaw as he stepped forward.

“That was my idea,” Folau added dourly.

“Break it up, you guys,” Navidi shouted. And then as Commander Griff marched on to the Marine deck, Navidi called for attention.

“How many of you got their ordnance at the Chit cave entrance?” Griff stood in front of the company, at ease with command.

Five hands went up; Navidi, Horan, Folau, and Laidlaw.

Griff turned to the holoimage of Jack. “And who is this, being used as Chit dental floss?”

Jack put up his hand to an outburst of laughter from Cobra Company. But Jack was unabashed. He had devised and had almost executed a plan that would have discovered what the Chits were doing at that position.

“And what did you think you were going to find down that rabbit hole, Mister Forge?”

“Sir, I don’t know, sir, but I thought it best to see what I was attacking so I could be sure to kill it, sir.”

The laughter died away.

“And you nearly got it. If only you’d had a full squad. Maybe if the Marines under your command had actually followed your orders.” Griff fixed Terry with a cold stare. “But you—” Griff waved his arm in a wide arc. “—the rest of Cobra, you went knocking on the front door. You could have put the entire orbital carrier group in jeopardy because you lashed out at the first thing that looked like a target. To a man with a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. When you are on the ground, you need to think. Just because you got a pulse rifle in your hands doesn’t mean you can stop using your brain.” Griff tapped the side of his head. “The top two inches, Marines. That is your most deadly weapon. That is how we are going to beat the Chitins.”

Griff paced along the front ranks of Cobra, glancing to the roof of the Marine deck, hands behind his back. He stopped in front of 6th squad.

“Mister Forge, I have extra work for you today. Take sixth squad through this simulation once again and take these squad leaders with you. Then Cobra Company will repeat the simulation while sixth squad grabs some VR and R. Do you get me, Cobra?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Jack shouted out along with Cobra Company.

8

Jack felt a renewed confidence in his ability as he climbed out of the VR pod this time. He’d taken the other squad leaders of Cobra Company through the simulation and this time, they had infiltrated the cave system and destroyed a mass of Chitin soldiers with strategically-placed explosives, some well-aimed pulse rifle fire, and a lot of close quarters electron bayonet work.

“When it comes to the real thing, we won’t know what we are going to find in such a place. Better to check it out first,” Jack said to the squad leaders as they came out of their pods.

“I heard you made a habit of annoying your commanding officers,” Navidi said. “But you got Griff on your good side.”

Jack took a sip of water from a cold bottle and then poured a slug over his head. He wiped water, sweat, and the stress of a long day of training away. “I won’t blindly follow an officer if I think there’s a better way. And a good officer won’t ignore a Marine if they have a better plan. Griff seems like a good officer to me, so far.”

“How did a cocky scroat like you make it to the Marines?” Navidi asked.

Jack offered the bottle to the 1st squad leader. “I failed my midterms.”

Navidi took the bottle and laughed. Taking a sip, he looked Jack in the eye. “Good to have you in Cobra Company. Guess you got some VR and R coming to you now?”

“No,” Jack said. “I’ve got someone to go and see.”

* * *

The corridors were empty. Only the occasional creaking bulkhead or squeak of strained pipe behind the corridor panels broke the silence. The way to the med bay was becoming familiar to Jack. He wandered around the maze of empty corridors, hardly noticing where he was going until he came upon the wide double-doors of the med bay.

Inside, a nurse stood at the nurse’s station. A person in the black jacket of Fleet Intelligence stood, leaning against the desktop and toward the nervous nurse.

Then Jack recognized Agent Visser, and he felt a sudden pang of guilt. Commander Finch had been a bad officer, Jack had not liked the man, but he did not want to see Finch get killed. Then Jack felt a sudden rush of nerves. It crackled over his skin like a wave of burning hot pinpricks. The agent was still investigating the disappearance of Commander Finch and knew his knowledge of events leading to that officer’s disappearance could land him in trouble and could land his friend on the gallows.

Visser turned around and Jack thought it was almost as if she had detected his hidden nervousness and guilt.

“Jack Forge,” Visser said, squaring up in front of him. “What brings you to the med bay?”

The nurse glanced at Jack. She seemed grateful to have been let off Visser’s hook, but sorry that Jack was now firmly on it. She averted her eyes and buried herself in work.

Visser seemed to study Jack. Fleet Intelligence agents were the most suspicious people in the fleet, if not the entire system. They suspected everyone of something. Jack knew Agent Visser suspected him of holding back information.

Jack stood his ground. He told himself to relax. He tried to convince himself that Visser had no evidence that would condemn him. He drew himself up to his full height and stood confidently. Inside, he felt like he was withering like a lush plant under the fierce heat of a supernova.

“Sir, I’m here to check in on my friend,” Jack said. His voice broke slightly. He knew it was because he’d been shouting orders in the heat of a simulated battle for the last few hours and then had not spoken a word for the last thirty minutes, but to anyone listening, particularly a Fleet Intelligence agent, it sounded like nervousness and guilt.

“Reyes is still in a coma,” Visser said, still studying him.

Jack had been ready for this and made an effort to not give away any hint of emotion at the mention of Reyes’s name. “Not Sarah,” he said coolly, “Sam. Sam Torent. Squad Leader of Sixth squad.”

“I thought you were leader of sixth squad now,” Visser said.

Krav it all, Jack thought, Visser knows everything. “Yes, sir,” Jack said. “I’ve just been promoted today.”

“Carry on, Marine,” Visser said and returned her attention to the nurse, who quivered under the attention.

Jack walked along the corridor. Through the clear composite panels, he could see the Marine guards still standing in front of Reyes’s door. Jack averted his gaze from that distant compartment, fearing Visser would see him looking and read some critical and condemning evidence in it. Instead, he looked for Torent.

Sam Torent was propped up in a bunk cover in white sheets, looking at his new right arm. The prosthetic limb had not yet been covered in synthetic skin and Jack could see the black composite sinews that made it. Torent was turning his arm this way and that, watching it move. He clenched and unclenched his fist, as if hypnotized by it.

“Sam?” Jack opened the compartment door. “Good to see you in one piece.”

Torent looked up at Jack and gave a half-smile before returning his attention to his prosthetic arm.

“They just attached it. It feels strange,” Torent said. He spread his fingers and turned his hand at the wrist. He bent his elbow and then straightened his arm.

“You can feel it?” Jack said, stepping closer. He watched as the composite sinews stretched and twisted across each other.

“Yeah, kind of,” Torent said, studying the arm’s movement. “But it feels artificial. Like the difference between a battle and a simulation. Simulation seems real, but you know it’s not.” Torent put the arm through its full range of movement, watching all the while, then he looked at Jack. “Throw me something.”

Jack looked around the compartment for anything he could throw. In his pocket was his watch. It was still without a case and the clockwork mechanism had stopped. It was wrapped in leather to prevent any damage to the delicate mechanism. Jack held it up for Torent to see.

“No, not that, Jacky. I don’t want to break that.”

Jack put the watch carefully away and then spotted a water bottle on the small table next to Torent. He picked it up. “This okay?” Jack asked and backed away as far from Torent as he could go. He held up the bottle, ready to throw, and waited for the nod from Torent.

Torent nodded and Jack gently pitched it to Torent. The black arm snatched the bottle out of the air, the fist clenching tight and crushing it.

“Krav it all,” Torent said. He shook his hand and tried to release the bottle, but his fist remained clenched tight. Water leaked out and ran down Torent’s arm. He shook his arm to shake the bottle away from his grip, but only succeeded in splashing water everywhere.

Jack almost laughed but then saw the distress on Torent’s face. He let the arm drop next to him on the bed.

“Stupid, kravin arm,” Torent said. “I’ll never get this thing to work.”

Jack stepped up and took hold of one of Torent’s fingers. He peeled it away from the bottle. It came away easily and then the others unfurled, releasing the bottle. It fell from Torent’s hand and clattered to the floor.

“They said I can rejoin the company in a few days, or as soon as I can work the new arm.”

“You’ll get back in no time, but what’s the rush?”

“Oh, I see.” Torent reached over with his left arm and tapped the squad leader’s badge on Jack’s chest. “You’ve finally got my job and you don’t want to give it back, is it?”

Jack looked down at the badge. “Oh, that,” he said. “Just keeping it clean for you is all.”

“I’m sure you are doing more than that. So, are you making life difficult for the new commander yet?”

Jack laughed. “You know me,” he said.

Jack looked through the clear panels of med bay walls to where Sarah Reyes lay. He could just make her out in her bunk.

“I heard the doctors say she could wake up at any time,” Torent said.

Picking the crushed bottle up off the floor, Jack grunted.

“That agent will probably want to speak to her as soon as she does.”

Jack looked at Torent with a suddenness that gave away his unease.

“Visser already spoke to me about it.” Torent held up his black sinewy arm and flexed the artificial muscles. “She asked me what happened to Finch down on that moon. I told her what you told me.” Torent looked at Jack. “I told her you said he was gone. You said, Finch is gone. And I told her we were deep in the krav and it was all a bit crazy down there. I told her exactly what you told me.” Torent fixed Jack with a stare. Jack knew what it meant. Torent didn’t know what happened to Finch, nor did he care, but he did care what happened to his friend. “I told her I wish I knew more. You know I wouldn’t keep a secret from the Fleet Intelligence. You know I’m not as clever as you, Jacky, but I’m not so stupid as to try and fool an agent.”

Jack looked over at Reyes, nodding in agreement.

“I guess Visser has interviewed you?” Torent nudged Jack in the hip with his new arm. He miscalculated and hit Jack hard.

Jack winced at the sudden, unexpected pain.

“Sorry, Jacky,” Torent said. “But that pain will be nothing if she wakes up and her story is different than yours.” Torent laid back on his pillow and closed his eyes. “I don’t know what happened to Finch. Does she? They are going to ask her.”

Jack threw the broken bottle in a small trash basket next to Torent’s bunk. “I hope she’ll be alright, Sam.”

Torent nestled into his pillow. “She’ll be fine. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Why?” Jack said, looking down at the resting Torent.

“Because you’ve got to try and lead that squad of ill-mannered, ill-disciplined Marines they call sixth squad.” Torent opened an eye and looked up at Jack.

Jack smiled. “I’ll be fine. I hear the worst of them are not in the squad anymore. One is in med bay and the other has been made squad leader.”

“They always make the worst Marine squad leader.” Torent let out a big yawn.

“Don’t hurt yourself with that arm, Sam.” Jack walked toward the door.

“Don’t ruin my squad. I want it back, you hear?”

“See you on the Marine deck.” Jack turned to Torent, but he was already sleeping and snoring like a cow. Jack looked along the med bay. He needed to speak to Reyes. He had to keep her safe from Visser.

9

Jack walked away from the med bay and through the corridors of the Scorpio. A group of crewmen and a young officer were throwing dice in one corridor. Jack stepped around them and ignored their boisterous shouting. Jack knew where he was going. He knew in the back of his mind that there was only one way he could save Reyes, only one person who would help. There was only one person he could trust with this. The one department the rest of the ship overlooked. The one department that knew every panel and bulkhead of the ship. And that department was now run by only one man.

Jack turned the corner and stepped up to the large doors of the maintenance hangar.

The large double-doors were open just a crack, enough for one person to step between. The edges of the doors were a ragged mess where they had been sealed and then cut open following the Chitin attack on the Scorpio during the Battle of Kratos Fuel Station. The jagged edges caught Jack’s sleeve. He felt it tug, holding him back, preventing him from finding help. The jacket ripped, only a small tear, but it was a bad sign and made Jack feel that his efforts might come to nothing, that all was already lost and if he carried on with his plan, he would suffer more than a ripped sleeve.

“Hey, Jack.” The shout echoed across the vast hangar.

There at the back, in a small pool of light at a workbench, Jack saw a tall figure, his maintenance coveralls tied by the sleeves around the waist.

“Hey, Slim. You got everything running smoothly yet?” Jack walked between the workbenches back toward his former maintenance colleague.

“Give me an hour more and the Scorpio will be the pride of the fleet, as long as you soldier boys leave her alone, that is.”

The coffee in the maintenance hangar was dark and thick, tasting of metal and composite and dirt. It was the best coffee aboard the Scorpio bar none, including the captain’s personal dispenser. Jack sat on the edge of a workbench and nursed the dirty mug in his lap. Slim leaned against the opposite bench, a hot mug in one dirty, calloused hand.

“Soldiering getting dull yet? You need to fix some conduit for excitement?” Slim slurped his coffee.

Jack looked up at the top bulkhead. The area where the Chits had cut through was repaired, panels of composite placed over the breach and welded into place.

“That was a scroat of a job,” Slim said, following Jack’s gaze. “I should have been here.” He looked into his mug.

“They would have taken you as well, Slim, and then who would keep the Scorpio flying?” Jack said. “Doyle sent you to do a job. I bet he was glad he had. He wouldn’t have wanted you...”

“And what do you know about what Doyle would have wanted?” Slim spoke with venom and anger that took Jack by surprise. Jack looked Slim in his dark eyes and took a sip of coffee.

“Do you think he’d have wanted you here?” Jack held the tall man’s stare. “Do you think you could have prevented what happened to them?”

Slim sipped his coffee and shifted his weight on the workbench. “At least she got away.” Slim jerked his head toward Reyes’s workbench. “I haven’t been to see her yet. Too kravin busy.”

“They won’t let anyone in.” Jack sipped and watched Slim for a reaction.

“Why not?”

“Fleet Intelligence wants to speak to her first.”

Slim rolled his eyes. “Intelligence,” he said with contempt. “If they put a fraction of the effort in to maintenance as they do in to those agents’ uniforms, we’d have the fleet ready to take down those kravin Chit bastards.” Slim slurped his coffee angrily.

“I need to get to her before they do, Slim.”

Slim looked over his coffee cup at Jack. “Why?” he asked suspiciously, then he shook his head. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He put his mug down on the bench and began tapping at a control panel on the edge. A holomap of the Scorpio appeared on the bench.

Jack jumped down and moved next to Slim. “How did you get that?” Jack said in surprise.

“Can’t do much in maintenance without detailed specs of the entire kravin ship. You tell me where they got Sarah and I’ll tell you how to get there undetected.”

“You can do that?” Jack looked into the green network of holographic lines that mapped out the Scorpio deck by deck, section by section. Every hidden panel and system, every coil, every conduit, every accelerator, compactor, fusion jet, and antimatter injector.

“What we got here is a detailed spec on every piece of the Scorpio right down to the buttons on the captain’s jacket. This is maintenance, Jack,” Slim said brightly, his arms out wide as if he’d just performed a magic trick. “Nothing happens on this ship that we can’t know about.”

Jack zoomed in on the med bay and then the compartment Reyes was being held in under guard. “Get me in there if you can, Slim. Get me in and I’ll do the rest.”

10

Bill Harts was awake. He was aware. He knew he was missing some part of himself. He knew he was different.

He recognized this place. The pink sands towering above him in the intricate branching structures could only be one place. He was back on the moon of Kratos.

The data overlay on his meat suit helmet showed him he was dehydrated, hypothermic, and exhausted. Data also showed him he was not alone.

Commander Finch was kneeling next to him. Finch reached out and took Harts’s hand, pulling him up off the floor.

“Sir, I got lost,” Harts said, looking around.

“Me too,” Finch said, but there was a hint of confusion in his voice.

“I’ve been somewhere,” Harts said. He struggled to remember. He knew he was missing a memory.

“No, Marine. We’ve been here all along. When the Leviathan was destroyed, we were concussed. It took us this long to initiate communication with the fleet.”

“Yeah,” Harts agreed uncertainly. “Have we contacted the fleet yet?”

“Have you forgotten protocol, Marine?”

“Sir, I think have, sir.” Harts stood up. His legs felt weak.

“Well, you better remember pretty quick, Marine. We’ll be back in the fleet soon and we’ll have to blend right in. Do you understand, Marine?”

The memories came back slowly. Harts answered, but with only a dim awareness of what he was doing. “Sir, yes, sir,” he said.

“Shout it out, Marine.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Harts shouted.

“You starting to remember, Marine?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Harts shouted. He was starting to remember the time before, his time in the fleet. He knew who he was, he knew where he was, but there was a gap, a darkness between then and now. He struggled to remember.

“Stop trying to remember something that hasn’t happened, Marine,” Finch shouted. “You can’t remember it. Just remember who you are and what you have to do. Do you understand?”

Harts slumped back to the floor. He felt cold. He remembered being cold. He felt confused. He remembered being confused. He felt afraid. He remembered being afraid.

“Do you get me, Marine?” Finch stooped over Harts and shouted even louder.

“Sir…” Harts replied uncertainly.

“Do you get me?”

“Sir…”

“Don’t think, Marine. Stop trying to remember. Just act like the Marine you used to be. Do you get me?”

Harts knew he had been someone different. Now he had to remember how to be that person again. He had a job to do. He had to be that person from before.

“Sir, yes, sir,” Harts shouted. Certainty began to return. Moment by moment, his memory of his old life returned and the memory of his captivity and interrogation by the Chitins faded.

Lying on the sandy ground with tears in his eyes, he knew he was close to getting back to the fleet.

11

Jack found his way to the corridor Slim had directed him to and searched for the particular panel. Jack detached it and slipped into the cavity behind. Putting the panel back in place, he closed himself inside.

His flashlight gave him a restricted view. He turned his head this way and that to have a better look at his surroundings. Jack was sitting on a bundle of conduits that ran along the narrow cavity branching of at intervals. Here one turned ninety degrees to the left and disappeared through the bulkhead. There another turned ninety degrees downwards and vanished into the depths of the Scorpio’s hidden spaces. At intervals, a conduit joined the bundle from one direction or another. Each conduit had a purpose, whether it was for ship defense, life support, crew comfort, or communications. The hidden conduits and circuits were as vital to the Scorpio’s functioning as the engine assembly or the gun batteries. It was a hidden world unknown to most of the Scorpio’s crew, and Jack was in it.

Moving forward carefully, Jack looked for the one that Slim had described to him, a conduit as thick as Jack’s forearm and made of the dark composite material that the ship’s hull was made from. Jack spotted the conduit. He followed it another twenty meters where the conduit turned ninety degrees vertically. Jack began to climb.

Slim had given him detailed instructions. The man had a detailed knowledge of this hidden world. Jack wondered if there was a nut or a bolt that Slim didn’t know about.

The only way to access the compartment that Reyes was in without alerting the guards was via a floor panel in a small cabinet at floor level. Jack had been concerned that the glass panel compartments would mean that as soon as he crawled out, he would be spotted by the guards, or a nurse, or worse still, Agent Visser. Slim had told Jack how he could fix that too.

The maintenance department was overworked and Slim was currently the only technician on board. Various crewmen had been transferred to the maintenance department, but they were performing tasks specific to their official stations. None of these emergency assistants understood the ship the way Slim did. He could understand the Scorpio, not just as a collection of systems, guns, targeting, drive, and crew support systems. No, Slim saw the ship as a single living entity built up from its component parts.

“The medical bay negative air pressure system has been faulty for months,” Slim had told Jack.

“Negative air pressure? What that?” Jack asked.

Slim had explained, “If any microbial, bacterial or viral matter escapes the medical bay, it could infect the entire crew. The med bay is kept at a lower pressure than the rest of the ship so air only flows in and never out. A series of chemical and physical filter systems keep the air clean, but nothing can escape, just in case.”

Jack reached a point in his long climb where the conduits pressed together. Slim had told him it would be a tight squeeze.

“When you are in position, I will start work on the faulty air system,” Slim had told Jack. “It will cause the lights in the medical bay and the detector systems to fail.”

Jack squeezed through the tight gap and found himself in a wide opening. A large bore pipe ran across the space. Jack followed the pipe to his left.

“I don’t want to get you into trouble,” Jack had been seriously worried about Slim and his enthusiasm to help. Slim had reassured him.

“There are so many systems that need attention. I can’t help it if I accidentally cause one to overload another. It’ll look like a complete accident. I have a work order somewhere. They’ve been waiting for me to deal with that med bay air pressure problem for weeks.”

Jack reached the bulkhead where the large bore pipe met and intersected with another. This was the point he’d been looking for. Two meters right of that intersection and Jack was finally in place.

“The lights and the alarms will only be off for a few minutes,” Slim had told Jack. “It’s the best I can do.”

“How will I know when you’ve caused the system failure?” Jack had asked.

“You won’t be able to take any communicators if you don’t want Fleet Intelligence to find out. Any device might give you away.”

Jack found the panel and detached the small clips. They were right where Slim had said they would be. Then Jack took out his small pocket watch.

“I’ll create the system failure at the start of third watch,” Slim had said. “But how will you know when it’s third watch?”

“I’ll know. Leave that to me.”

Jack sat in the dark and watched the second hand on his pocket watch tick around the small white face. The world around Jack was reduced to a small pool of light from a small head-mounted flashlight. He concentrated on his watch. The second hand hit the point where Jack knew third watch would begin. He’d synchronized his old family watch with the ship chronometer. He switched off his flashlight and quietly removed the panel.

The panel opened into an almost empty cabinet, only a small composite dish and a few packets of disposable items littered the space. Jack carefully removed them and set them aside.

The cabinet door opened easily with a gentle touch. Outside, he could hear the voices of the Marine guards and a nurse. One guard was shouting for emergency lighting.

“Does nothing work on this old ship?” another voice complained.

Jack crawled out of the cabinet and crossed the compartment floor. He stood up next to the bunk near Sarah Reyes’s head. Jack had thought of how to leave her a message. He could leave his watch for her. When she woke, she would know that he had been there. Maybe she would guess that she should talk cautiously. Jack could break his watch in the hope that that would tell her they were in danger. Jack knew a handwritten note would just land them both in trouble and possibly side by side on the gallows back on Eros.

There was one way Jack could be sure Reyes didn’t ever speak… If Reyes didn’t ever wake up. She was lying there completely at his mercy. Jack cursed himself for allowing the thought to cross his mind. He knew he couldn’t hurt her, or betray her like that. He couldn’t bear the thought of any harm coming to her. She was beautiful and interesting, and she’d saved 6th squad from the Chits at the Battle of Kratos Fuel Station. Maybe they could both disappear. The system was huge, and the war wasn’t everywhere. There were rogue settlements dotted across the galaxy. They could escape the fleet and live together somewhere.

Jack knew all these ideas were hopeless. Maybe he had only come to be with her one last time.

Jack touched Sarah’s hair. He felt her thick hair under his sweating hand. He could feel her beauty. He wished he could look at her, but his flashlight would give him away to the guards. The guards would arrest him and then Visser would be all over him like a mass of Chitin tentacles.

He felt the soft skin of her forehead and her smooth cheek. He remembered it now, flushed with the effort of work, smeared with sweat and dirt. She looked good in her overalls, busy at her workbench. Jack wondered if he’d ever see her there again.

“Sarah,” Jack whispered in her ear. “I need you to know.”

“Jack?” Her voice was weak.

Jack’s heart leapt. He felt an urge to yell out in triumphant joy. She was awake. Sarah was awake.

“Yes,” he whispered, his lips so close to her ear.

“Jack,” she said again. “I can’t see.”

“You are safe. The lights are all out.” Jack knew they’d be coming back on at any moment.

“We were on Kratos,” she said.

“Shh,” Jack whispered. He held his lips so close to her ear that they touched it lightly. “They will ask you what happened to Commander Finch. I told them he went missing. As far as we know, the Chits took him. Don’t say you saw him. Okay?”

Silence.

“Okay?”

The dark and the silence. The flashing of a light somewhere at the far end of the medical bay caught Jack’s attention.

“Sarah, can you hear me?”

The voices from the far end of the med bay were loud and anxious.

“I thought you were still guarding her,” said one Marine.

“No one’s been in or out,” the other said.

The flashlight beam flashed into the compartment, the light scattered by the many panels of translucent composite. Jack looked down and saw Reyes, her eyes closed and a smile on her rosebud lips.

Jack slid to his knees, head next to hers. “Don’t tell them we saw Finch.” He crawled back to the floor-level cabinet and climbed back inside. He pulled the door shut just as the lights burst to life, flooding the med bay with its stark light.

“There,” a Marine guard said. “She’s still there.”

Jack climbed carefully and quietly back into the dark world between the bulkheads in the hidden spaces of the Scorpio.

12

Pretorius stood before the holostage on the command deck. The holostage standby image rotated in front of him, an image of the Scorpio. It had been captured when the Scorpio had first left the construction facility in orbit around the home world, Eros. The Scorpio was, at the time, the newest and most powerful destroyer in the fleet. It was fast, able to cross from one side of the system to the other in one Eros day. She was heavily armed with port and starboard batteries of high-density shot cannon, deploying a range of high-density shot warheads from kinetic, incendiary, high ex, and antimatter payloads. The combat drone launch tubes were housed on the lower hull while the upper hull was dominated by the four high-energy laser cannons.

The Scorpio and her eleven sisters, together with the four massive carriers, were thought to be the ultimate defense against the newly discovered Chitin threat. That was until the carrier Crown was destroyed along with its flotilla of frigates and corvettes. Then the Libra was lost. Then the Gemini.

The Scorpio had seen its share of battle. Pretorius balanced the need for aggression with the need for survival. The Scorpio had used its speed as much as it had used its weaponry. Pretorius had mastered the hit and run. He had Chitin kills on his jacket. A dozen Krakens had met their end at the hands of Pretorius. The feather in his cap was the destruction of the Chitin Hydra at the battle of Hades North. He’d fought the battle at high speed, moving in and out of range of the Chitin focused plasma arc and he’d concentrated his fire on the Hydra, ignoring the Kraken infiltrators. He’d been boarded for the first time during that battle and lost many crewmen to the Chits that day, but he’d scored the fleet’s first kill on a Chitin Hydra. His tactics that day had been shared with the destroyer fleet as the primary method of engagement with a Hydra-class vessel.

The Scorpio that rotated on the holostage in front of Pretorius was not the battle-scarred vessel under the captain’s feet right now. The engine reactor was in need of an overhaul. It was operating at only sixty-eight percent efficiency. The Scorpio’s port-side battery was operating at only forty percent. Several cannons were out of action for the want of basic replacement parts. They had subsequently been cannibalized of other parts to service the remaining operational cannons. Pretorius knew he could not take on a Hydra and win now.

His starboard battery was fully functional, but he was short on crew to properly serve both batteries. He could fight with one side or the other. The high-energy laser was underpowered. It was still powerful enough to slice through a Chitin hull, but the range was so reduced that it would be a point-blank battle, one Pretorius knew the Scorpio would not survive.

The combat drone tubes were fully operational, but the supply of drones was limited. The Scorpio had one big fight left in her before she would have to return to port for rearmament and repair. Pretorius knew that fight was coming soon. He stood patiently in front of the holostage and waited for Group Captain Chen Li to appear.

Pretorius hoped the other ships in the assembled group were in better fighting condition than the Scorpio. No single destroyer had seen as much action as the Scorpio, none that were still in operation. The Scorpio was joined by two other destroyers, the Aries and the Pisces. Pretorius knew their captains well and he was happy to be alongside such good captains. The carrier leading the group was the Monarch. Her commanding officer was Group Captain Chen Li. She was cautious in battle as well as in politics. She had risen quickly from captain of a frigate, through Fleet Headquarters, and onto the bridge of the Monarch. At Fleet Headquarters, she had masterminded a successful attack on a series of Chitin asteroid facilities. She had leapfrogged some longer serving captains to the position of group captain, but her political and diplomatic skills, as well as her coldhearted military skills, had kept her in favor with her subordinates as well as her line commanders.

“Incoming message, Captain,” Commander Chou informed Pretorius. “It’s Group Captain Li aboard the Monarch, sir.”

“Put it on the holostage, Mister Chou.” Pretorius straightened.

The holostage flickered into life. Group Captain Li appeared in the center of the stage from the hips up. To either side of Li appeared smaller images—Captain Janie Lauafa of the Aries and Derrie Baskin of the Pisces.

“Captains,” Li said coolly. “Fleet has assembled us for an operation against a Chitin facility on Proxis, the closest moon to the gas giant Penthus. Success in this operation will limit the Chitins’ operational range in the system and relieve pressure on our convoys from the outer asteroid cloud.”

The holostage image flickered and changed to a view of the entire planetary system. Li, Lauafa, and Baskin appeared at the side of the display.

“As you can see,” Li said, “the two gas giants, Penthus and the Chitin home world Zelos, are currently on opposite sides of the star from each other.”

“We know the Chitins have a drydock facility on this moon.” The image zoomed in on Proxis, the inner moon of Penthus. It was a black moon of hard crystalline rock. “They service their deep space craft here, including their Leviathans. This drydock has allowed the Chits to extend their operational range across the entire system. If we can remove the Chitin presence around Penthus, we will push the Chitins back to the far side of the system, restricting their movements and freeing ours.”

The image of the system disappeared to be replaced by the group captain.

“I want full inventory and battle capability reports by end of second watch. Full armament readiness by third watch. We progress to our target at low velocity at the top of first watch. Transmitting battle plan and zero hour to you now.”

Pretorius knew he was here to fight. He didn’t need to be asked nicely. He was motivated as firmly as any person in the fleet, but it was unusual not to hear some introductory pleasantries between senior officers on an operation. Then, it seemed that Li hesitated for a moment.

“I know you are seasoned veterans, so I am honored to be leading this carrier group.” Li paused. “You have your orders.”

The image of Li flickered away, leaving Lauafa and Baskin on Pretorius’s holostage. The three captains smiled and greeted each other warmly. They all knew each other personally and by reputation. Between the three of them, they had more Chitin kills than the rest of the destroyer fleet put together.

“Good to see you both again,” Pretorius said. And as the three caught up on news from home, news of the war, of friends and families, and as they laughed with each other, Pretorius knew he was going into battle again.

13

The latest VR training session had a fresh feel to it. The scenario was not some generic battle situation, but had the feel of truth about it. The battlefield was a moon orbiting Penthus. Jack could see the huge gas giant filling the sky. The surface of the moon was a hard, glass-like rock, shot through with cracks and deep channels. The surface was difficult to walk across, even more difficult to crawl over.

Jack pulled off the VR helmet and clambered out of his pod. He was aching and sweaty. The scenario had been run several times this watch already. He’d once again completed an assault on a fixed position. His squad approached using stealth and natural cover concealment on one run-through, and on another, he had employed a rapid frontal assault. This last run, he’d used fire and maneuvers to advance on the position. He was outnumbered and out-gunned. He’d completed his objective and destroyed the target, a simulation of a Chit structure, but every time, he’d lost all of 6th squad. He had also been killed after the final destruction of his target.

Whatever the Marines were preparing for was going to be murder, sheer and utter murder. Jack wiped the sweat from his brow, grabbed his sweater, and left the VR suite. He was on a one-watch liberty. He wandered toward the med bay.

The corridors were the busiest Jack had ever seen them. Almost every corridor had a crewman walking one way or another. One corridor was blocked as a group of crewmen maneuvered a massive trolley holding a stack of four combat drones. The ship was clearly preparing for an operation.

He was forced to find a way around the blocked corridor. The sweat had cooled as he walked and he started to feel cold. He pulled the sweater from around his waist and pulled it on. After a few more corridors, and few encounters with crewmen and one flustered junior officer, Jack reached the med bay’s wide double-doors.

Torent was sitting on the edge of his bunk. He had one arm in his jacket and his new prosthetic arm out. He appeared to be having difficulty getting dressed.

Jack walked toward Torent’s compartment. He looked along the bay toward Reyes’s compartment. She was sitting up in bed. Jack’s heart leapt at the sight of her up and out of the coma. Standing next to Reyes, Jack noticed the black jacket of the Fleet Intelligence agent, Visser.

Reyes ignored Jack.

“Help me get this arm in here, Jacky,” Torent said as Jack stepped into his compartment. He couldn’t take his eyes off Reyes.

“Jack,” Torent said more loudly. “Don’t stare, Jack.”

Jack turned toward Torent. His friend was right. If he was going to hide the truth about Commander Finch, it was better if he showed as little interest in Reyes as possible. If he seemed interested in her, it might be because he was interested in what she knew about Finch’s disappearance. He had told Reyes not to say anything about it. As far as the fleet knew, she had not seen him on Kratos at all.

Jack took hold of Torent’s jacket and helped him put his arm in the sleeve.

“How’s the arm?” Jack asked, desperate to look at Reyes.

“Strong. I’ve got it under control, sort of.”

Jack pulled the jacket up onto Torent’s shoulders.

“You free to come back to sixth squad?” Jack asked.

“Worried I’ll take your job?” Torent replied.

“No.” Jack risked a glace toward Reyes. His eyes met those of Agent Visser. He turned his head casually back toward Torent. “There is an operation coming up. If you can stay in med bay, you might be able to sit this one out.”

“Sit it out?” Torent said. “Not a chance. I overheard the doctors talking.” Torent climbed off his bunk. “They had medical supplies sent over from the Monarch.” Torent gave Jack an excited look. “A carrier, Jack. A kravin carrier. Come on.” Torent walked out of his compartment. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Jack asked, following Torent.

“The hangar deck. There’s a porthole in the launch doors.”

“And what about it?” Jack asked.

“We can get a look at her.”

Jack looked back toward Reyes one last time. “Her?” Jack asked

“The Monarch. We can get a look. You ever seen a carrier before? No, didn’t think so. Come on.” Torent marched out of the med bay.

Jack hurried to catch up. A carrier would be something to see, but there was only one thing Jack wanted to see. And she was being questioned by Agent Visser.

14

The hangar deck was a hive of activity. Crewmen and tech drones were prepping the Scorpio’s compliment of tactical drop ships. There were thirty-six TAC boats, one for every squad of a full battalion. Jack felt the pre-operation jitters grow in him.

The presence of a carrier and the preparation of the TAC boats meant only one thing: joint operations. The carrier’s primary role was to support the destroyers, provide fighter cover and fire support. The TAC boats were designed for Marine landing and ground operations. This was not going to be some raid on an asteroid. This was going to involve ground assault, space assault, fighter defense and attack. This was joint operations.

Torent seemed untouched by the activity around him and unfazed by the possibility of an imminent attack on a Chitin stronghold. He dashed along the line of TAC boats, moving from one hangar door to another, looking through one porthole after another.

“There she is,” he called excitedly. “What a ship. Look at the size of it.” Torent stopped at a small porthole. He pressed his face against it and looked out, condensation from his eager breath misting up the small window. “Look at her, Jacky. Just look.”

Jack stepped up to the small porthole in front of him and looked out.

The Monarch dominated the view, set against the distant gas giant. The Pisces and the Aries, each a kilometer long, were dwarfed by the massive carrier. A dozen points of light flitted about the Monarch from the engine flare of the patrol fighters.

Jack pulled back, startled, as a corvette came past. The corvettes were lightly armed and extremely fast with the range of a destroyer. The six corvettes in line formation held position between the Scorpio and the Monarch

“Can you make out the names on those destroyers?” Torent asked.

Jack could see the letters painted on the nose section of the destroyers, but they were too far out for him to read. He could make out the batteries of cannons along the side of the destroyers, massive snub-nosed barrels capable of pouring out a deadly hail of shot.

The Monarch’s side was dominated by the massive fighter decks. Between each deck was a battery of cannon and combat drone launch tubes. The upper and lower sides of the Monarch each supported four sets of high-energy laser cannon.

The flotilla of craft was an immense show of fleet power, and Jack knew there was one more weapon in this arsenal. Hidden within the composite hulls of these craft was the fleet’s most deadly and versatile weapon. The Fleet Marines.

“Those Chits are going to get an absolute battering,” Torent said, moving to the next porthole.

“We’ll see,” Jack said. The flotilla was powerful. He hoped the enemy they were going to fight wasn’t even more powerful. A single Leviathan was more than a match for a carrier. The Crown had been lost to a Leviathan in the first months of the war. Since then, the fleet had avoided contact with those Chitin craft.

“Where do you think we’re going?” Torent stepped back. “I heard some crewmen say we are heading to Zelos.”

“The Chit home world?” Jack took one last look at the Monarch. “I hope not. We wouldn’t last two minutes, and we’d need ten times the ships.”

Torent walked over to Jack. “Can we beat them, Jack?”

Jack sensed the anxiety in Torent’s voice. Placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, Jack looked him in the eye. “I don’t know, Sam. I know they won’t beat us.”

Torent looked out of the porthole again. “The carrier, destroyers, corvettes, Marines… Wherever we are going, it’s going to be a kravin big fight.”

“We’ll do our job, Sam.” Jack pulled Torent away from the porthole. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll get our fight soon enough. No need to think about it now.”

15

The mess hall was full, with every seat taken by members of Scorpio Battalion and the ship’s crewmen and women. Jack and Torent picked their way through the crowd toward the familiar faces of Cobra Company and 6th squad.

The room was filled with the smells of fresh cooked meat and fried roots. The tables were covered in food and jugs of juices.

“No ration blocks today?” Jack said. He spoke to a Marine from one of the other companies. “Fresh food? Where were they hiding that?”

The Marine turned. Smiling. “They sent it over from the Monarch. Giving us a good sendoff. Can’t go into battle on a ration block.”

“Must be close to zero hour,” Torent said, grabbing a meat-filled bread roll from a stack on one table.

The food tasted good. The noise in the mess hall sounded good. Most of the battalion knew what lay in store. Most had seen action. The few new recruits who hadn’t been in combat were nervous and eager for it. There wasn’t a single new recruit who wouldn’t be a seasoned veteran after one second of actual combat against the Chits. Simulations were useful, but knowing that the fight was for real sharpened the senses. It made some bold, and others afraid. Some ran into their first action with such enthusiasm that they put themselves needlessly in danger. Those who shrank from the fight and hoped the fighting would die away put their squads in danger. A steady and level-headed approach was the only way to succeed. Victory lay in a determined, intelligent approach to the chaos of battle.

Jack sat down at a table with 6th squad. Torent was greeted warmly, his prosthetic arm a point of interest. Torent showed it off. “I’m still getting used to it,” he said.

Bubble turned to Jack. “Boss. Tell Terry. He owes me credits.”

Terry poured a cup of juice and laughed. “I’ll give them to you when we get back from the operation.”

“Great.” Bubble slumped back in his chair and rolled his eyes. “What if we don’t get back?”

Terry placed the freshly poured cup in front of Bubble. “If we both get back, I’ll give you double.”

Bubble crossed his arms over his chest and looked darkly at Terry. The two laughed. “You better come back,” Bubble said, “so I can kick your ass for being a kravin scroat.”

Terry stood up and leered darkly at Bubble. 6th squad cheered at the insult. Terry finally let his smile spread over his face and held out his arm to Bubble. Bubble took Terry’s hand and stood up. The two shook hands, smiling.

“Toast,” Torent said. He raised a cup. “To the best squad in Cobra Company.”

“Best in Scorpio Battalion,” Terry said.

“In the fleet,” Osho said.

“I’ll toast that,” Jack said. The squad knocked their cups together and drank as one.

The mess hall speaker suddenly crackled and Commander Griff’s voice spoke out. “Scorpio Battalion. Form up on the Marine deck. Parade in five minutes. That is all.”

Jack was on his feet. “Move, Sixth Squad, you heard the commander. Parade. We don’t want to be the last squad in formation.”

Jack saw the other squad leaders motivate their squads. Across the hall, Jack caught Navidi’s eye and they looked at each other for a moment. They knew they were getting ready for battle. They were getting closer by the moment. They gave each other a brief nod in acknowledgement.

“Move, move, move,” Jack shouted.

“You heard the boss, Sixth Squad,” Torent added. “Move.”

6th squad moved as a group toward the exit. Jack knew his squad. They had trained together, fought together, lived together. Now they were going into battle together. They all knew what was in store for them, noise and fury and fear and courage. Jack couldn’t pick a better squad. Whatever happened, he knew he’d be with people he trusted and respected. They were just like Jack. They were true Marines. The best in the fleet.

16

Major Cruz stood at the front of Scorpio Battalion in conversation with the three company commanders. Jack had never seen Major Cruz on the Marine deck in person before. Jack could feel the tension build inside him. The signs were there that the coming operation was going to be no minor skirmish.

Commander Griff called the battalion to attention. Major Cruz stepped up and spoke.

“For some of you, this will be your first encounter with the Chitin. Others among you have fought them before. By the time this operation is over, we will all be seasoned veterans.

“The carrier group is assembled for an operation to deny the Chitins free movement about the system. We will attack and destroy a drydock on the moon Proxis. The facility is used by Chitin Hydra craft and is also capable of servicing their Leviathan-class craft. When we have destroyed the drydock, the Chitins’ largest craft will only be able to operate from their home world.

“The fleet has assembled three destroyers for this operation. Our objective is a ground-based orbital defense battery. We will destroy this facility ahead of the main assault on the drydock itself.”

As Jack listened, he heard the determination and professionalism in the major’s voice.

“The drydock is defended by two ground-based orbital defense batteries, situated approximately three kilometers to the east and the west of the main facility. Cobra Company will assault the western battery. Boa Company will assault the eastern battery. I will lead Adder Company in the main assault on the drydock itself. The main assault will be assisted by two companies from the Pisces and Aries battalions, but this is a Scorpio Battalion operation.

“Your orders, Scorpio Battalion. First watch, you will study the battle plan. VR maps are available to you now. You will walk through your objectives and study the terrain. Second watch. You will rest. In your bunks. No drinking. No fighting. Third watch. Final battle prep, full battle readiness parade. Zero hour is at the end of third watch.

“We will deal the Chitin a debilitating blow with this assault. We will fight them. We will beat them. They will remember Scorpio Battalion. They will fear Scorpio Battalion. Do you get me?”

Jack shouted out with the entire Scorpio Battalion. He had encountered the Chitins on several occasions. He’d been in close quarters combat. He’d stood against them, full of fear and courage, yet he’d never had any reason to think the Chitins felt anything at all. But the major’s words were inspiring. Jack almost believed it.

“Sir, yes, sir,” they shouted.

Major Cruz handed the battalion over to the company commanders and left the Marine deck.

The commanders stood before their companies and reiterated the major’s orders for the next twenty-four hours and then dismissed them.

Commander Griff walked over to 6th squad as they fell out of parade formation.

“Torent,” he called as he approached. “You are supposed to be in med bay.”

Jack and Torent saluted the commander. Jack noticed Torent had complete control over his prosthetic arm.

“Sir,” Torent said, “I feel great. I don’t want to miss out on the operation, sir.”

“I wish I had a dozen like you, Torent,” Griff said. “What do you think, Forge? Have you got room for another Marine in sixth squad?”

“Sir, Sam’s one of the best Marines I’ve ever fought with.”

“So that’s a yes, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

Griff clasped his hands behind his back. “Okay. I’ll inform medical that you are fit. Report to your squad leader at the top of first watch.”

Jack and Torent walked off the Marine deck.

“I knew we were getting ready for a big operation,” Torent said. “Let’s get down to the mess hall. I bet there’s some beer going around.”

“Beer? I don’t think so, Sam. Have you fired a pulse rifle with your new arm yet?”

Torent held out his arm, the black composite sinews twisting and stretching over each other. “It’ll be fine.”

“Fine isn’t good enough, Marine. You can have beer when we get back. Right now, you need a session on the firing range.”

“I’ll practice when we start on the VR training later,” Torent said.

“You will start right now, Marine.” Jack laid a hand on Torent’s shoulder. “I’m not taking a rusty Marine on this operation.”

Torent grumbled and gave in. “I guess you really are the boss now.”

“You got it, Sam. Rifle range, now. And I’m not dismissing you until you can out-score me. You get me?”

17

The hours before battle were quiet. Jack checked every part of his equipment. His pulse rifle was dismantled and cleaned. His meat suit checked and readied. He checked on his Marines. Osho was withdrawn. Terry was edgy. Bubble was nervous. Torent was quietly cheerful.

6th squad practiced the landing. The VR maps of the western battery on Proxis were studied, and Jack took 6th squad on a walk covering every centimeter of the planned route for their tactical advance.

The battery was surrounded by a trench. The trench would be filled with Chitin soldiers, but now it appeared empty. Jack jumped down into the trench and walked the perimeter. The battery was a series of four-barrel plasma accelerator cannons. They towered above the Marines, their deadly mouths open to the sky, ready to spit their devastating firepower at any ships in orbit. The site where the demolition charges were to be planted was marked on the simulation.

“Sixth squad will be carrying the explosives, high yield. Should take out these guns and make a crater big enough to land a frigate. Make sure you get clear before setting them off.”

The squad rested in their bunks after the detailed training run. Jack ordered lights out and silence. The squad didn’t complain or resist. They slept. Jack had worked them hard, and they deserved the rest. It would be the last they had until the operation was over.

With the start of third watch, the nerves began to show. Jack kept 6th squad focused on their tasks. They prepped their kits and pulled on their meat suits. They assembled with the rest of the battalion on the Marine deck. There was a buzz of excitement, and a quiet resolve. There was an eager eye on the time and the moments that passed by with a sluggishness bordering on the interminable. Soon the moment would arrive when the chatter throughout the battalion would have to stop. Soon the officers would be marching onto the Marine deck. Soon the battalion would be going into action.

18

The Carrier Group took up position in high orbit above Proxis. The gas giant, Penthus, loomed in the distance, dominating the view.

The Monarch launched it compliment of fighter craft. Dozens of highly maneuverable and deadly craft engaged the patrolling Chitin Krakens that raced to intercept. The Hydras appeared from beyond the moon’s horizon. The flotilla launched a salvo of combat drones, a dozen from each destroyer and another dozen from the Monarch. The drones raced toward the incoming Hydras, spreading out to form a curtain of devastating ordnance.

The fighters destroyed the first wave of Krakens and then moved to fill any gaps left by the combat drones. The drones took fire from the Hydras, the plasma arcs flashing across space, slicing through the drones’ light armor. Each drone lit up the dark void in a brilliant white and orange flash.

The lead Hydra was struck by a group of combat drones. The drones released their antimatter payload within a nanosecond of each other. The Hydra was crushed and tumbled out of the explosion barely in control, lurching this way and that. A squadron of fighters chased it down and finished it with a hail of kinetic rounds.

The second Hydra twisted away from the drones that picked it out as a target, desperately maneuvering to avoid destruction. The drones annihilated themselves and the Hydra. As the battle continued, another pair of drones and another Hydra destroyed. The flanking Hydra craft maneuvered around the remaining drones and powered toward the nearest destroyer, closely followed by fighters that closed in and poured kinetic rounds into the Chitin machines.

Group Captain Li watched the destruction on the holostage of her command deck. The surprise attack was working so far, but she knew every Chitin craft within range would be forming up for a counterstrike. That strike could come at any moment.

“Send orders to the Scorpio. They can begin their landings. Let’s get this done and get out of here.”

* * *

Jack ran with 6th squad to the line of tactical landing ships. He ushered 6th squad into their boat and then followed them inside. The door closed behind him. He was buffeted about by the ungainly takeoff before he fixed himself into his alcove.

The TAC ship flew directly toward the moon’s surface. Cobra’s boats flew toward the western horizon. Only meters from the surface of Proxis, the boats turned toward their objective and raced along the moon’s surface. The craft landed roughly and the door crashed open. Jack was out of his alcove quickly and running toward the door, calling for 6th squad to follow.

The towering defense battery was just visible on the horizon. Jack had studied the maps of the area and knew the distance exactly. If he had been without his meat suit, it would take him thirty minutes to run that distance. His meat suit would allow him to move much more swiftly. He would be on the target in less than ten, pulse rifle range in five.

TAC ships were delivering the rest of Cobra Company to the landing zone. Griff walked out of a nearby craft, his name displayed over his shoulder on Jack’s enhanced data overlay.

Commander Griff took a few steps toward the distant defense battery, then sent a message over the meat suit’s communicator and called the squad leaders to him.

Jack ran over the moon’s jagged, glassy rock and came alongside Griff.

The distant battery lit up as massive gout of plasma was blasted into space and toward the orbiting carrier group.

“That battery is doing some major damage up there,” Griff said. “We move in. Spread out, move fast. Go.”

Griff moved off at a jog. Jack called 6th Squad to him and took up a position on the right flank of the advance.

The plasma cannon belched out another glowing orb of plasma that stretched into a teardrop shape as it raced toward its orbiting target. The muzzle of the cannon recoiled with the shot, the tip glowing orange. Its glow dimmed as the muzzle cooled. The cannon extended upwards and blasted another orb.

The flash of the Chitin defense cannon lit up his faceplate, temporarily blotting out his view. Stumbling over a jagged rock, Jack lost his running rhythm, but his suit compensated and steadied him.

His meat suit’s helmet display lit up red along the left side, a warning beep sounded, and Jack was suddenly surrounded by a hail of plasma spears. They slashed across the surface of the moon in front of him and behind him. They slammed into the Marines of first squad, who were advancing on the left flank.

Jack hit the ground and turned toward the incoming fire. Plasma spears flashed out of the darkness, their light flickering over the crystalline surface.

“Chitins,” Jack heard the panicked shout over his communicator. “Fall back. Fall back.”

Jack looked up as a Marine stood and began to back away. His pulse rifle at his hip, pulse rounds blasting out wildly at max rate.

“Get down,” Jack called out. A plasma spear slammed into the Marine’s suit, sending the soldier sprawling backwards. The pulse rifle continued firing, the rounds scattering wildly.

The plasma spears fizzed all around Jack, and he turned to face the fire head-on. Lying with his head toward the fire made him a smaller target and it allowed him to try and locate the enemy.

The plasma spear fire was coming from about one hundred meters away. Jack had been on the receiving end of Chitin plasma spears before, but there was something different about it this time. The spears seemed brighter and shorter, and they came at a much faster rate.

Jack crawled toward the spears, calling out to 6th squad to follow. In front of Jack, Marines were taking cover behind any small piece of black rock they could find. The spears slashed overhead and created a dizzying, dazzling light show. The prone Marines of Cobra Company were lit by a rapid, flickering deadly light.

Commander Griff was calling into his communicator to the company. “Awaiting intel update from Scorpio now. Hold position.”

A Marine climbed up to one knee and returned fire. His squad-mate pulled him back down to the ground. Both were hit, their pulse rifles useless in lifeless hands.

The new intel from the Scorpio was delivered to each Marine. A trench system, previously undetected, lay along the axis of Cobra’s advance to the defense cannon. The Chits were operating previously unknown rapid-fire plasma spear weapons all along the edge of the trench system. Cobra had walked right into a kill zone.

“We need to take that trench,” Griff began. A Marine, dazed by the rapid-fire spears, leaped to his feet and charged. Griff called for him to wait just as a number of spears tore through his suit, sending him sprawling, lifeless, to the ground.

“Hold, Cobra.” Griff’s voice was steady and calm. “Fall back. We assault the end of the trench line and work along the trench system. On my command.”

Griff got up on one knee, firing at the Chitin trench. He called as he fired. “Go. Go. Go.”

Jack was on his feet and running, the spears ripping through the dark all around him. He heard Marines getting hit and saw some fall. The number of plasma spears around him dropped, and Jack looked toward the Chitin trench line. They would have to move fast, but Cobra could take the trench. If they rushed the western-most gun at the end of the trench line, then they would take less fire than if they assaulted the trench face on. Once the first gun was taken, Cobra could work along the trench taking one gun at a time, instead of rushing the line and taking fire from however many of the damn things the Chits had.

Torent and Osho came alongside Jack. “Where’s the rest of Sixth?” he asked.

Osho pointed back with her rifle. “Terry took a spear. Bubble was dragging him.”

Jack opened a communicator channel to Bubble. Jack heard Bubble panting and mumbling and crying. “Report, Marine,” Jack said firmly.

“Terry’s hit.” Bubble’s voice was cracking under the pressure. “He’s out. I’ve got him. I’m falling back to the TAC boats.”

Jack scanned back along the kill zone in front of the trench and saw Marines scurrying back, crawling on their bellies to avoid the spears that slashed overhead or running in stooped positions.

“Commander Griff, come in, sir,” Jack called over the company channel. “Commander, come in.”

“I saw him firing,” Osho said. “He was giving fire, dropping to the ground, relocating, and then firing again.”

Jack scanned the kill zone. The Marines each had their identity tag displayed over them. He couldn’t see Griff.

Cobra needed to advance and Jack was in place to take them forward. He put out a company command. “We are going to assault that first rapid-fire plasma spear embankment, that kravin spitz gun. Rapid advance, fire and maneuver. Speed is the key, Marines. Let’s go.”

Jack was up and running toward the western-most point of the trench. The Chit spitz gun started up. Jack dropped to the ground and gave fire. Torent on one side, Osho on the other. Jack watched as remnants of 2nd and 3rd squad raced by. They dropped to the ground and laid down sustained fire. That was Jack’s invitation to get up and run. He was joined by members of 1st and 4th. They advanced another ten meters before dropping and laying down a heavy round of suppressive fire.

A lone 5th squad Marine ran forward with the remnants of 2nd and 3rd. They dropped, gave fire, and let Jack race forward again.

Now the fire from the spitz gun was coming from close range. Spears of deadly light flashed through the darkness, lighting up the shining shards of rock and the Marines with their busy pulse rifles.

Jack lay behind a very low ridge. It was not much of a defensive wall, but it would do for a moment to catch his breath. He fired blind, rifle over his head, pointing over the small rocky ridge toward the Chitin line. The next wave of Marines came up and ran onwards toward the Chits.

Jack was getting ready to get to his feet, listening for the call from the forward fire team. A Marine dropped heavily to the ground next to him. The whimpering and spluttering from the Marine could only mean one thing: Bubble was back in the fight.

“Bubs, where’s Terry?”

The fractured voice was just clear enough for Jack to understand. “He’s wounded. His suit is giving first aid and taking care of him. He needs evac, boss. Commander Griff is wounded too. His communicator is knocked out and he’s supervising an evac point for the wounded.”

Jack looked back. Somewhere in the darkness was the commander and a bunch of wounded Marines. The Chitin fire had taken them by surprise and Jack knew many of Cobra Company were lost. They had already been undermanned, and now Jack wondered if they would have enough to take their objective.

“You okay?” Jack asked Bubble.

Bubble replied with a whimper.

“Good, let’s go.”

Jack climbed to his feet and charged forward, firing as he went. A spear sliced past Jack’s helmet, the flash temporarily blinding his right eye. He blinked and tried to restore vision. And then he saw, illuminated by the flashes, the rapid-fire plasma spear gun.

The spitz gun was mounted on a rotating base. Four spear launchers, much like the Chit soldier’s weapon, were mounted in two rows of two. A Chitin soldier stood behind it, turning it across the field of fire. Spears blasted from each launcher in a near constant stream.

Firing his pulse rifle at the mounted spitz gun, Jack advanced. The Chitin soldier turned the four launchers toward him as he came ever closer. The Marines rushed the gun, all firing. The Chitin fell away from the device. The gun went silent and fell into the darkness. The next gun along the trench was turned toward Cobra Company and spat out a fierce, flashing spread of spears. The spears exploded onto the glassy rock surface, spitting shards of rock from the impact. Jack tumbled forward, rolled over his shoulder, and dropped into the trench.

19

Pretorius watched the battle unfold on the holostage. Cobra was advancing slowly and had infiltrated a network of trenches defended by what the Marines were calling ‘spitz guns.’ They were defending the approach to the ground-based orbital defense battery and had slowed the Marine advance to a crawl. Boa was pinned down by a heavy fire from a similar trench and spitz gun network.

The main assault on the drydock was also advancing slowly. Too slowly, Pretorius thought. Major Cruz was halting the advance and sending scouts ahead to check for the spitz guns that Cobra and Boa had reported. Pretorius was a cautious leader himself, but he knew hesitation was as dangerous as recklessness. Cruz needed to go forward.

“Captain,” Commander Chou said. “Group Captain Li sent a fire order. A corvette scout has detected a swarm of Krakens incoming. They have Hydras with them. We are ordered to coordinate with the Pisces and the Aries and engage the Hydras. The fighters will handle the Krakens.”

Pretorius swapped the holostage view from the ground assault to the ships around Proxis. The distant swarm was closing in fast. A hundred Krakens with four Hydras in support.

“Bring the starboard battery to bear on the lead Hydra. Bring the laser coils to full power. Open fire when they are in range.”

Pretorius watched the mass of Chitin craft closing in. Aries and Pisces closed formation with the Scorpio.

“Open a channel to the Pisces and the Aries, Mister Chou.” Pretorius tugged his cuffs.

The images of Captains Baskin and Lauafa appeared on the fringe of the holostage. Pretorius kept his eyes on the image of the Chitin craft racing toward them.

“Captains, these Hydras are tough bastards, and we don’t have room for a hit and run battle here. We need to take them head-on. Concentrate fire on the lead craft. That’ll leave us one each. Take the nearest to you and kill it.” Pretorius glanced at his fellow captains.

“Agreed,” Lauafa said.

“Good luck,” Baskin added.

The Scorpio’s starboard batteries opened fire first and set a high-density field of kinetic shot on the approach vector for the lead Hydra. The Chitin craft, approaching in swarm formation, maneuvered around the deadly field. Several squadrons of fighters swooped in and ripped into the Chitin swarm, their forward lasers slamming into one Kraken after another, flank cannons flickering against the black backdrop of space.

The first Hydra to avoid the curtain of kinetic shot came into range of the Scorpio’s laser. The entire assembly on the upper and lower hulls burst to life. The laser connected with the first Hydra and the Chitin craft glowed under the assault. The lasers from the Aries and Pisces lit up and slammed into the Hydra, adding their power to the attack. The Hydra activated its focused plasma arc. It flickered across the space, twisting this way and that in a dazzling fiery arc, finally slamming into the upper port side of the Pisces, throwing up a shower of debris and fire.

The Pisces laser lost power, its beam dimming from a bright orange to a dull brown before terminating altogether.

The Hydra’s focused plasma arc activated a second time, briefly flicking toward the Pisces again before the Chitin craft gave in to the punishment from the laser assault. The composite shell cracked and the craft fell apart.

“Good shooting, sir,” Mr. Chou said excitedly.

“Target the closest Hydra. Hit them with everything we’ve got, Mister Chou.”

“Yes, sir,” Chou said excitedly. “Opening fire on them now, sir. Laser at full power. High-density shot cannon ready to fire. Giving them a salvo of high ex, sir.”

Pretorius watched the images from the battle flickering over the holostage. The Pisces was falling back to the cover of the Monarch’s guns. The Aries was slamming all its laser power into its target Hydra. It took a hit from a plasma arc and the upper hull assembly went dark. A moment later, the Hydra attacking it was destroyed in a brilliant flash.

Pretorius was suddenly thrown into the holostage. The lights on the command deck flickered and the holoimage blinked off for a moment before coming back to life.

“We’re hit, Captain.” Chou moved around the holostage and tapped on a damage control console. “We’ve lost one cannon from the starboard battery. The battery is still operational. Laser still active.”

“Keep firing. Everything we’ve got, Mister Chou.”

Pretorius watched with satisfaction as the Hydra that had hit them was destroyed, the Scorpio’s high ex salvo making contact and destroying the Hydra, already weakened by a sustained laser assault.

“Target the final Hydra and fire.” Pretorius watched as the Chitins came even closer. The Krakens were in a dogfight with the fighters from the Monarch, and several Krakens were chasing the limping Pisces. The Aries was firing on the last remaining Hydra, but was about to be attacked by a dozen Krakens.

“The Aries,” Chou said. “We should assist.”

“The Chitins are in too close to the Aries for us to give fire, Mister Chou.”

“Why aren’t they firing at the Aries?” Chou asked.

“They don’t want to destroy her.” Pretorius watched as the Krakens moved in, chased by a squadron of fighters. The Krakens attached themselves to the hull of the Aries.

“Send a message to the Aries, Mister Chou. Let the captain know they are being boarded.”

20

The trench was as deadly as the open ground it protected. Every twist brought the danger of running into a mass of Chitin soldiers. The spitz gun kept spitting out the flashing plasma spears that went slashing overhead. The Marines advanced, heads down.

Jack turned a corner and opened fire. The Chitin soldier waiting there was thrown backwards, staggering and stumbling under the pulse rifle fire. Another Marine stepped up next to Jack and added fire. The Chit fell. Dead.

“Keep moving.” Jack ran along the trench and leapt over the fallen Chit. A plasma spear flashed by his head and slammed into the tip of the trench just a few centimeters from his head. “Keep moving,” he shouted again.

A Marine from 2nd squad caught up with Jack and ran ahead. The 2nd squad Marine shouted into his communicator. “Keep moving. Keep moving.” He ran around the next bend. Jack followed.

A spitz gun positioned in the trench filled the narrow trench with plasma spears. The 2nd squad Marine in front of Jack was thrown backwards, his suit blasted apart as the spears struck home. Jack frantically stumbled back and took cover around the corner.

“Hold,” Jack shouted. He held his hand in the signal for a halt, palm flat, fingers pointing upwards. “Hold,” he repeated.

The fire from the spitz gun stopped. Jack reached out for the fallen Marine to pull him back and out of the way. The spitz gun fired up immediately as Jack’s hand came around the corner.

Navidi came forward along the line of Marines in the trench. “What’s the holdup?” He crouched next to Jack.

“Spitz gun,” Jack said. “They’ve put it in the trench. There’s no way we can take it head-on.”

A Marine sitting behind Navidi held out an antimatter charge. “Set a short fuse and throw this,” he said, eager to move forward.

“No,” Navidi shouted and pushed the Marine and the charge back.

“That’ll take out the spitz gun alright, and annihilate the rest of us too. Put it away until we get to the defense battery.”

Jack glanced up to the rim of the trench, then looked down to Navidi. They nodded at each other.

“It’s the only way,” Jack said. He signaled his squad to him.

“I’ll go left,” Navidi said.

“I’ll go right.”

Jack gave his orders over the squad channel. Navidi did the same. Then Jack looked at Navidi.

“On three?” Navidi said.

And then together, Jack and Navidi counted to three.

Jack clambered out of the trench. Immediately, the spitz fire from along the trench flashed across the surface. The Chit fire team that had positioned the spitz gun in the trench were hastily trying to elevate the launchers to fire at the Marines that came at them from either side. They were too slow.

Jack fired into the trench as he advanced. The Marines on either side poured their fire and fury onto the Chit gun. The soldiers returned fire with their own plasma spear weapons, but were quickly overcome by the determined Marine assault.

Jack dropped back into the trench next to the spitz gun. He prodded it with his rifle.

“Can we turn it against them?” a Marine asked.

“No.” Jack turned away from the abandoned gun and looked toward their main objective—the massive defense battery. It fired another blast into space.

“Why can’t we use it?” A Marine picked up the spitz gun and tugged at what looked like the controls. “Why can’t we fire it?”

“We need a Chit suit, probably. I don’t know. All I know is we have to destroy that defensive gun, and quick.”

The Marines ran along the trench, blindly firing around corners and keeping their heads down. Jack took a knee at one dogleg in the trench and took a sneak peek. It was the end of the trench system. They were so close to the main objective. It was time for them to do what they’d set out to do.

The ground-based defensive cannon was set in a deep trench of its own. No doubt there would be more Chits defending the cannon, and more spitz guns too. There was a hundred meters of open ground to cover to the trench around the massive series of defense cannons.

The battling advance along the trench had been fast, but it had been slow enough for the straggling Marines to catch up. Jack and Navidi caught their breath.

“Speed is the key,” Navidi said.

“We’re quick or we’re dead,” Jack agreed. He peeked over the edge of the trench toward the battery. He half-expected to come under fire right away. There was only the darkness and the gas giant Penthus glowing brown and orange in the black of space.

“Maybe they’ve gone back to Zelos?” Navidi said. He checked that his pulse rifle was loaded and powered.

“Maybe,” Jack agreed.

“Maybe we should just throw these antimatter charges over and into that deep trench around the battery?” Navidi said.

“No,” Jack said disappointedly. “We have to lay them at intervals around the base. We won’t be sure to destroy the guns otherwise.”

“Do you always have to be right?” Navidi asked, taking a quick look over the edge of the trench.

“All right, Marines. This is what we came to do,” Jack called back to the mass of Marines. He could see there were members of every squad of Cobra Company. He was pleased to see Torent alongside Osho and Bubble, waiting for their orders with the rest of Cobra. “Move in hard and fast. Fire at anything with tentacles. When you get in the battery trench, wait for command.” Jack turned to Navidi. “Electron bayonets?” Jack fired up his EB.

“Do you want them to see us coming?” Navidi replied.

Jack realized the burning EBs would light up each Marine in the dark and make them much easier targets, so he powered it down.

“Guess I’m not right all the time,” he said to Navidi, then turned to the Marines of Cobra Company. “Quickly, quietly. See you at the battery. Go.”

Jack climbed over the side of the trench and began running toward the massive battery.

Then the spitz guns opened fire.

A fighter came racing in low. With incredible speed, its forward laser sliced through the glassy rock and the trench, throwing up rock and Chits and the broken fragments of their spitz guns.

“We’re open for business, Cobra.” Jack raced on. He felt alone. He feared he was the last survivor of Cobra. Then Osho caught up, the only Marine who could match Jack for speed. The two jumped into the trench around the massive defense battery together.

The charred remains of Chitin soldiers littered the deep trench. The fighter’s laser had cut and fried them in seconds. Jack skirted around the battery’s wide curved outer wall, looking for any nearby Chitins. The rest of Cobra Company dropped into the trench. Jack marshaled them to order.

Navidi took a team to clear the trench in one direction while Jack led a team in the other.

“Lay an antimatter charge every ten meters. And make sure we don’t fire on each other when we meet up on the other side,” Jack said.

The other battery, far away to the east, fired another massive gout of plasma. It raced away into space toward the distance craft. Jack could see the flashes of light far overhead that marked the battle going on in orbit. Jack knew that Boa hadn’t completed their objective yet.

Jack fought his way around the defensive battery, dropping Chits as he went, then met up with Navidi and the rest of Cobra on the far side. Jack looked up at the massive barrels of the orbital defense battery. It hadn’t fired since they’d taken the trench around it.

“Looks like we’ve chased them all away,” Navidi said.

“Looks that way.” Jack leaned against the curved composite wall of the battery’s base. He noticed a small groove in an arch shape.

“We better clear out and detonate these charges,” Navidi said. “We need to get at least a kilometer away or we’ll be blasted along with it.”

Jack pressed his fingers into the groove he’d found. The composite moved and slid aside to reveal a gently sloping ramp.

The Marines took a step back in surprise. Jack looked inside.

Navidi stepped up next to Jack. “Do you want to throw a few charges down there as well?” He grabbed one out of a pocket on his suit.

Jack glanced over to the far-eastern battery as another blast of plasma was fired toward the carrier group above.

“Why are they still firing?” Jack asked out loud.

“Because Boa company hasn’t finished them off,” Navidi replied. “Now let’s get out of here and blow this thing.”

Jack looked into the dark space inside the opening. Maybe, he thought, the defense battery was connected to the drydock by this underground access.

“If we destroy this western battery,” Jack said, looking up at the massive barrels above him, “but the main assault fails, we’ve lost.”

“Don’t worry about the main assault,” Navidi said. “Let Major Cruz worry about that. Let’s just worry about getting out of here.”

“I’m going to check out this tunnel,” Jack said.

“Easy, Jack,” Navidi said. “That’s off mission. “You might be a squad leader, but they’ll still thrash you for going off mission.”

“Our mission is to defeat the Chits, right?”

“They told me you were a rebellious scroat,” Navidi said.

Jack looked deeper inside and then took a step into the tunnel. “Stay here,” Jack said to Navidi. “If I’m wrong, then this tunnel goes nowhere. If I get caught, trapped or killed, you need to blow this battery. Get me?”

“You can’t go alone,” Navidi said. “But you can’t order anyone to go off mission.”

“I’ll go.” Bubble stepped forward, his voice cracking in fear, tears only a second away.

“You can’t take that coward with you,” a 4th squad Marine said, laughing at the idiocy of Jack taking a Marine who was constantly in a state of distress.

“He’s no coward,” Jack said forcefully, turning on the insolent Marine.

“But he’s crying all the time. He’s afraid all the kravin time,” the Marine retorted.

“I know, he’s wracked by fear,” Jack said, “and still, he goes forward. Still, he stands alongside his squad-mates and he fights. He is afraid and he goes forward anyway. He’s a real Marine. He’s probably the bravest Marine here,” Jack said, squaring off against the 4th squad Marine.

“I’ll go too,” Osho said, placing a hand on Bubble’s shoulder.

“And you’ll only get in trouble if I don’t go along,” Sam Torent said.

Three other Marines stepped forward and volunteered for the new mission, to delve into the dark with Jack and follow the squad leader’s hunch that the tunnel led to the drydock.

The massive bolt of plasma from the eastern defense battery and the flickering light of the spitz guns around the drydock itself told the Marines all they needed to know—the main assault was stalling, and so was the eastern assault. Only Cobra had completed their objective.

“It’s not enough that we succeed,” Jack said, stepping inside the archway. “The whole mission has to succeed, or we all fail. Don’t let them retake this position, Navidi,” Jack said.

He stepped into the dark.

21

The commander of the Corvette looked out of the small forward viewing port on the command deck of his ship. He was stationed on the outer edge of the Penthus System. The Corvette was rigged for silent running and the scanners were listening on full sensitivity for the approach of any Chitin craft rushing to the battle of the Proxis Drydock. The distant flashes of light showed him where the battle was taking place, but from this distance, he couldn’t make out details. He stepped over to his holostage and accessed the latest reports.

The Monarch and her support destroyers were taking ground fire from one of the defensive batteries, but the ships were staying out of range. The assault on the eastern battery was stalled, reportedly pinned down by heavy plasma spear fire. The main assault on the drydock was stalling, and an extra company from the Pisces was being readied to support the main assault.

“They have to take out that eastern defensive battery so the destroyers can give orbital support,” the commander said to himself.

“Commander,” a young officer called out, “I’m receiving a transmission, sir. It’s coming from the outer moon. It’s coming from Kratos, sir.”

“There’s no one on Kratos,” the commander said. “The only action is on Proxis.”

“Signal from Kratos confirmed, sir. It’s a distress call and it’s coming from the moon’s surface.”

“We are supposed to be on communication silence out here. If we respond, we’ll give away our position.” The commander tapped the console on the edge of his holostage. He accessed the transmission.

An image of two Marines came on the holostage. One was kneeling, while the other was laying on the ground.

“This is Commander Finch,” the kneeling Marine was saying. “I’m stranded on Kratos. Request evac ASAP. Anyone receiving this transmission respond immediately. This Marine is injured. We are both in need of medical attention. Please, if you can hear this, send help.”

The message flickered and repeated. The Corvette commander stepped back from the holostage. If he responded, he would give away his position. If he requested advice from the Monarch, he would give away his position. If he launched a rescue boat, he would give away his position.

“How old is that message?” the commander asked.

“It was re-sent a few hours ago, but the first transmission was sent days ago. They could be dead by now, sir,” the young officer replied.

The commander looked through the view port at the distant battle.

“Launch the rescue boat and inform the Monarch we are picking up two stranded Marines.”

The commander watched the rescue boat speed away from the Corvette and down to the surface of the nearby moon. He watched the sensor display nervously. After what seemed like hours of waiting, the young officer reported that the boat had touched down.

“The Marines have been picked up, sir. The rescue boat is taking off. They are on their way back to the ship now, sir.”

Then the commander saw the smallest reflector signal on his extended range scanner system.

“There,” he called. “Focus all scanners on that point.”

The scanners zeroed in and the holostage displayed what had been detected.

“It’s a Kraken, sir. Incoming at high speed. Strike that, sir. Five krakens. Five of the bastards,” the young officer babbled.

“Stow that cursing on my deck,” the commander said. “Power to the weapons. Open the landing bay and let’s get the rescue boat on board.”

The commander watched the holostage as the five Krakens closed the distance quickly. The rescue boat seemed to move sluggishly, even though he’d ordered the boat’s pilot to push it to its limit. The boat reached the landing bay. The doors closed.

“Full power to the drive,” the commander said. The Krakens came closer as the Corvette powered up its drive. The Corvette was faster than any Chitin craft, but its acceleration was limited. The craft was designed for long-distance, system-wide reconnaissance. Speed was important but acceleration was not, not during usual operations.

“The Chits are coming into weapons range,” the weapons officer reported. “Shall I give fire, sir?”

The commander watched the holostage.

“Chits are firing, sir.”

The image of the plasma arc slashing out from the lead Kraken flicked over the holostage. The arc came within a whisker of the Corvette’s engine assembly.

“We’re pulling away,” the drive officer reported. “We’re pulling away, sir.”

The command deck erupted in jubilant shouts as the holostage showed the Corvette increase the distance between it and the pursuing craft.

“Send a message to the Monarch. Inform them we’ve been detected and are returning to home space.” The commander watched the Krakens give up the chase. “Who is this Commander Finch,” he said to himself. “I hope I haven’t made a mistake rescuing him.”

The commander stepped away from the holostage and walked toward the exit. “I’m going to welcome our guests aboard.”

22

Group Captain Li looked at the holostage on the Monarch’s command deck. The battle was failing. The main assault on the drydock was stalled, and the fresh company from the Pisces wasn’t making any impact. In fact, the extra numbers seemed to hamper the assault. The Marines were too densely packed on the battlefield and the rapid-fire spitz guns were keeping everyone pinned.

If the eastern battery would stop firing, Li knew she could move her destroyers in and give close orbital support to the main assault. But the data on the plasma cannon showed it was capable of breaking a destroyer in two with one perfectly aimed shot. Li didn’t know how many shots the Chits would need to deliver a perfectly aimed one, but she couldn’t risk losing a destroyer. It would risk the entire Fleet if just one destroyer was lost.

And it looked as if she was about to lose one destroyer. The Aries was covered in Krakens, with twenty attached to her hull. As many as two hundred Chitin soldiers could be boarding the Aries. Captain Lauafa had informed Li that she had deployed her reserve Marines throughout the ship and sealed off the drive room and command deck. The Aries could remain operational and stay in the battle even with so many Chits on board. Whether the Aries could survive much longer afterwards was another story.

The fire report came in. The Monarch’s attempted bombardment of the drydock with its kinetic shot cannon was ineffective, the ordnance was being prevented from reaching the surface by Chitin craft positioning themselves in front of the Monarch’s fire, sacrificing themselves to protect the drydock.

“At least we know it’s important to them,” she said to herself. “They really want to keep that drydock operational. Krav it,” she exploded. She brought her fists down on the holostage. “I want that eastern defensive battery out of action so I can move my destroyers in. Send another company to support the eastern assault, and message Commander Griff. Tell him I want Cobra Company to move to support the main assault.”

23

The tunnel stretched into the darkness. Jack sent a micro drone ahead to scout the area. The data was relayed back to his meat suit and a path was revealed by the enhanced data overlay on his helmet.

The tunnel stretched forward in a perfectly straight line. The micro drone finally showed him that the tunnel ended at a small arch, much like the one he’d entered through.

Jack and his handful of Marines jogged forward in silence. He brought them to a halt just before the arch. Jack risked a look, then took a step forward. The tunnel led into a vast, dark space. Curved composite walls stretched away on either side to form a wide circle. It was the base of the Chitin drydock. The diameter was close to three hundred meters. Above their heads, the space was filled with a network of composite gantries. Jack could make out the shape of several Chitin craft, a mixture of Kraken and Hydra. They were glowing with the telltale signs of being powered up and readied for action. Scurrying over them and the gantries between, Jack could discern the figures of Chitin soldiers, tiny at this distance but deadly enough should Jack and his Marines be discovered.

“Why aren’t they attacking?” Bubble asked nervously.

“Too busy serving those ships.” Jack stepped back into the tunnel with his Marines. “Probably about to launch their craft to attack the carrier group.”

The small group all looked expectantly at Jack. They wanted their orders and expected Jack to give them. But Jack was making this up as he went along. However, their task was clear: destroy the drydock.

“Okay, Marines, we have a chance to knock out this entire facility with one blow. We lay our antimatter charges quietly around the perimeter and scamper back to Navidi and the others. We can destroy this facility, and maybe save a few Marines engaged in the main assault.”

They each grabbed a charge and got ready to carry out Jack’s plan.

“Jack,” Navidi’s voice came over the helmet communicator. “I’ve got orders from Commander Griff. Cobra is to relocate and support the main assault. I can’t hold this position anymore.”

Jack understood what Navidi was saying. He would have to detonate his explosives and destroy the western defensive battery.

“Copy that,” Jack said. “Get clear and get it done. Blow that damn gun and get out of there. Good luck.”

“We’re already moving. Good luck to you too, Jack.”

Jack looked at his team. Behind every faceplate was a stern countenance. They knew that with the destruction of the defense battery, their escape route would be destroyed too. They were stuck, unless they could battle their way past hundreds of Chitin soldiers and the spacecraft being prepared for battle.

“Marines,” Jack said. “We have to lay these charges. We can accomplish the main goal of this assault and destroy this drydock. If we destroy this dock, we deliver a huge blow to the Chits. It could be the turning point in this war.”

The Marines nodded in agreement. The drydock had to be destroyed. They were here and in a position to end the battle.

“Maybe we can climb out,” Bubble said, his voice calm and steady. “We might make it.”

“I have a hunch,” Jack said. “On the other side of this dock, we’ll find another tunnel just like this one that will lead us to the eastern cannon.”

The Marines nodded and Jack sensed the rising confidence.

“Now, the eastern cannon is still defended. Boa Company must be pinned down by some of those spitz guns. We’ll have to come out fighting on the other side.”

The Marines all nodded again. They each pulled out an antimatter charge and prepared for action.

“Sam.” Jack put his hand on Torent’s shoulder. “Maybe you should have stayed in the med bay.”

“What, and miss all this?”

“Take three Marines along the left. Lay the charges evenly around the left perimeter. I’ll do the same on the right. Osho, Bubs, you’re with me.”

“Yes, boss,” Torent said.

“We’ll meet at the arch on the other side. Quickly and quietly now, Marines. Those Chits up there look busy. Let’s not alert them to our presence.” Jack pulled out an antimatter charge. “Go.” His order was simple and direct. The group of Marines moved out of the tunnel and into the massive drydock, moving low, quiet, and fast.

Osho laid the first charge after a few dozen meters. Bubble laid the next with a nervous glance upwards. Jack moved quickly and laid the next, tucking it up against the curved composite and the smooth, flat ground surface. They went on in the same manner until they reached the far side. Torent and his team came moving out of the darkness toward his position. Jack searched across the wall for the arch. He found the opening to the dark tunnel beyond.

Jack waved the Marines into the tunnel. When the last was running into the darkness, Jack stepped inside. He took one last look up through the crossed gantries and checked out the Chitin soldiers still crawling over the Chitin craft. He could only hope they hadn’t been detected.

Then Jack felt a massive explosion. The destruction of the western battery was complete. Cobra Company had achieved their objective, and now Jack had to make sure the battle was won. He had to destroy the drydock.

As he stepped through the arch, he noticed the Chits in the gantry moving rapidly downwards. They swung down, their tentacles allowing them to move in huge swinging bounds. Time was going to be short. He would detonate those charges at the base of the dock rather than fail. He’d come this far. Now he would do nothing else but win, even if it cost him his life.

Jack headed into the tunnel and ran. He trusted his instinct and ran into the darkness.

The tunnel began to climb upward after a long run. The Marines were feeling the burn. Jack ran on and overtook his group of Marines. He reached the wall at the end of the tunnel and searched for the arch. Jack had a worrying thought that maybe the groove that formed the arch was only on the outside. He felt around, growing more and more frantic. And then his fingers found it. He pressed and pulled, and hoped the arch would open.

The rest of the group came running up, breathing heavily, and they stood behind Jack as he tried to get the arch to open.

Osho came alongside Jack. “Bubble fell behind, boss,” she said.

“He never could run,” Jack said as he pressed at the groove. “We can’t wait for him.”

The data from the micro drone showed Jack that Bubble was a few hundred meters away. Even an exhausted Bubble could make that distance in a short time.

Jack felt the grove give way under his fingers. The arch began to open. His heart beat hard in his chest. On the other side of this door was the orbital defense battery crew. The Chits would attack as soon as the arch slid open.

“Ready, Marines,” Jack called as the arch slowly slid open.

A Chitin plasma spear flashed into the dark from outside as the arch slid open. It slammed into the helmet of a Marine standing behind Jack. Jack and the surviving Marines poured fire from their pulse rifles into the Chit and it fell away, tentacles thrashing. The next Chitin came and fell to the pulse rifles before it could launch a plasma spear.

“Move as one. Go. Go. Go.” Jack ran out into the wide, deep trench around the defensive battery. Bubble came panting to the archway, his pulse rife rattling a rapid fire into a Chit coming to the top edge.

“Sweep the trench,” Jack shouted. He ran forward, firing at each new Chit he came upon. He fired up his electron bayonet. The element of surprise was gone. All he could trust in now was speed and commitment. He rushed the next Chitin soldier and sliced through its smooth back shell with his EB, pouring fire at the next.

Osho came alongside Jack and gave fire, putting another Chitin soldier down.

“Boss, boss,” Bubble shouted. “They are coming along the corridor. They are coming up behind us.”

Jack checked the data from the micro drone still in the tunnel. Dozens and dozens of Chits were scurrying along the corridor floor and walls, pressing past and over each other in a frantic dash through the corridor.

“Set the charges to destroy this battery,” Jack called. He pulled his last antimatter charge from a pocket.

“I’m all out, boss,” Oho said. She fired at a Chitin soldier who came scurrying around the curved edge of the battery.

The Marines all reported that they were out of antimatter charges. “Did no one think to save some for this gun?” Jack called out, but he knew as long as they drydock was destroyed then the mission would be complete.

The Chits in the corridor were coming ever closer. Jack knew he only had a moment before they came pouring out and into the trench around the eastern battery. Jack looked over the edge to the battlefield beyond. As he suspected, there was a defensive trench system with spitz guns all along it. The spitz guns were firing into the distance. Jack grabbed his field scanner and looked at the guns’ targets. It was Boa Company. They were pinned down, and some Marines were falling back.

“Boss,” Osho called out. “They are nearly here. What’s the plan?”

“We’re going to attack that defensive trench and take the pressure off Boa.” Jack checked that his rifle was ready for the next charge across open ground.

“We’re only six Marines,” Osho said.

“So make every shot count. We can’t stay here. I’m going to blow the drydock. Go, go, go!”

Jack scrambled out of the trench. He lobbed the last antimatter charge through the archway and started running toward the eastern defensive trench. The Chits in the trench were so focused on giving fire to Boa Company that they were not aware of the small squad rushing at them.

Jack accessed the detonator codes. He needed to get his Marines to a safe distance before he could detonate the charges. He set a dead man’s trigger on the detonators just in case he was killed. He wasn’t going to let a little thing like his own death prevent him from setting off the charges and destroying that drydock.

He ran as fast as he could. He loved running. Even now, fatigued and anxious, he still loved running. If he had to die here, at least he would be enjoying his last run. He knew the drydock would be destroyed and the battle won, even if he was killed, so he put his head down and ran.

24

Group Captain Li watched the holostage and the bitter realization that the battle was lost crept over her. The main assault had stalled. The reinforcements had taken massive casualties before the TAC boats had even landed on the moon. The Marines still pressing forward toward the drydock were encountering heavy resistance.

The assault on the eastern battery had failed. Boa company had taken heavy losses and had lost battle effectiveness. The destroyers had wasted munitions on a failed, sustained long-range bombardment of the eastern cannon and the drydock facility.

Li wasn’t going to send in more Marines to die in a hopeless cause. She considered a frontal assault with the Monarch leading the charge. The destroyers and the monarch could move in and lay down a barrage that could swing the battle, but she knew her carrier group would take losses. The fleet could not afford to lose a destroyer, much less a carrier. If she could win a victory with a heroic charge, it would be a hollow victory at best, and could even result in a massive defeat. To turn a battle capable of crippling the Chitins into a crippling defeat for humanity would be the worst act of treachery from any serving captain in the fleet. Li might get demoted, sacked, or even flogged for retreating now, but she could be executed for treachery.

“Sound the recall. All Marines retreat to the closest Destroyer. All ships, prepare for full retreat to home space.” Li leaned heavily on the holostage. She reached up to her shoulder and grabbed hold of her group captain pips. She should pull them off right now, she thought. She should do it. But the group still needed a commander, at last until they got back to home space. Then she would remove them.

How did the battle go so wrong? She thought back over all the planning. All the intelligence she had gathered. The plan had been good. They had been assured victory. The Chits were just too hard to beat. The Marines had gone in with a huge force, but it wasn’t enough.

Maybe the Chits had too many soldiers. And they were reckless. They had sacrificed themselves to stop the fire from the destroyers hitting their intended targets. How could they fight an enemy that was so ready to throw themselves at danger and certain destruction? The Marines were brave and tough, but they didn’t give themselves over to the enemy like the Chits seemed to do. Li looked at the holoimage of the Marine companies on the surface. None seemed to be moving. She’d ordered the retreat. They should have started back by now.

“Why aren’t the Marines falling back?” she asked. “They need to get out of there right now.”

“Group Captain,” a command deck officer called out in a worried voice. “Chitin Leviathan detected, sir. It’s on an intercept course.”

Li looked at the failed battle on the moon. The Leviathan would be on them too soon for her to make an effective evacuation of the moon, not with all that Chit activity.

Li opened a channel to her destroyer captains.

“Captains. The battle is lost,” she said as matter-of-factly as possible. “There is a Leviathan incoming. We must withdraw immediately. It’s my call. We must save the ships.”

Captain Lauafa spoke up. “I’m overrun with Chits, Group Captain. If I can’t recover the rest of my battalion, I’ll lose the Aries. They already occupy most of the ship.”

“The battle is lost, Captain,” Li replied. “The battalions are lost.”

“I might not be able to save the Aries, sir, but I might be able to save the battle.” Lauafa stood up straight, her holoimage flickering. “Request permission to ram the drydock, sir.”

“Request denied, Captain,” Li said harshly. “You will do what you can to save the Aries. We have to preserve the ships. Set your heading for Eros and make for home space with all speed on my command, is that understood?”

“Sir,” Pretorius spoke up. “The drydock. It’s blowing up from the inside.”

25

The explosion ripped through the drydock, sending up a massive blast and throwing gantries and Chitin craft fragments with it. The blast rippled through the glassy surface of Proxis, fracturing it under Jack’s feet. He ran and stumbled forward with his Marines. The blast wave from the massive antimatter explosion threw them forward and into the eastern defensive trench system.

Jack landed heavily. He felt his muscles tear in his shoulder, and his meat suit immediately administered painkillers. Jack instinctively brought up his pulse rifle, but his arm would not cooperate. His meat suit reported a right shoulder dislocation, so Jack grabbed the pulse rifle with his left.

The Chits nearby were pouring fire on B Company from their spitz guns. Jack readied himself to assault the guns. The small group of Marines came up alongside him.

“You okay, boss?” Osho asked.

Jack nodded. He felt nauseous from the pain and the painkillers.

“Look at that thing blow,” said Bubble.

The antimatter explosion in the drydock was blasting energy upward into space, converting kilos of matter into energy. The ground began to shake violently. Jack began to worry.

“We’re too close,” he said. “We’ll be swallowed up by the blast. We have to move. There’s only one way to go. We have to move through this trench and clear it out as we go, and we’ve got to go fast.” Jack aimed his pulse rifle with his left hand, his right useless at his side.

“You can’t fire with your left, boss,” Torent said, stepping in front of Jack. “I’ll take point. Stay behind me.”

Torent charged along the twisting trench, flashes from his pulse rifle flickering along the top edge.

“Move,” Jack shouted and sent his Marines forward. With a last glance back at the explosion, he charged after his eager squad.

As the small, mixed squad rushed forward, they took down one spitz gun after another with speed and fury. The Chits servicing the guns were distracted by the explosion and their rate of fire slackened. Jack ran behind his Marines, adding his own fire to the squad’s, dropping a Chit here and shredding another one there.

Jack looked out at B Company. With the spitz fire lessening, Boa was free to move. Jack saw figures crawling out of their small fragments of cover and getting to their feet.

“We’ve got them now,” Jack said excitedly. “B Company can start hitting them too.”

As the guns fell to Jack’s Marines, he glanced out at Boa. Then the message from the Monarch came over Jack’s communicator. It was a general retreat.

“This is Group Captain Li. Attention all ground Marines. Withdraw. Mission accomplished. Drydock destroyed. Make for nearest destroyer. Leviathan incoming. Withdraw with all haste.”

Jack slowed to a walk. His small team punched the air in celebration.

“We’ve still got to get out of here,” Jack said. “Tactical advance with speed along the trench. Watch for Chits and let’s find a TAC boat before they all take off. Go.”

Jack ran with fresh determination and enthusiasm. They beat back the remaining Chitin soldiers and cleared the trench. Climbing out, Jack looked back the way he had come. The ground was moving. Jack guessed it was the detonation disturbing the ground. He needed to get away before all was consumed in the antimatter reaction. But it was not the ground that was moving, it was a hoard of Chitin soldiers, hundreds and thousands, pouring over the black glassy surface toward Jack’s position. They would be on top of Jack in moments if he didn’t move. Not even an entire battalion could stem that flood of Chitins. Jack turned his back on the monstrous sight and ran. He ran with his demolition team, running to catch up with the retreating B Company. He ran in the hopes of finding a way off this dark and dangerous moon. He ran in pain and in hope. With the massive drydock erupting in a violent explosion behind him, he ran forward to the lights of TAC boat engines powering up.

26

The crisp sheets of the med bay bunk felt strange against Jack’s skin. A medical drone came into his cubicle and grabbed his right hand, pulling hard on his arm. The shoulder crunched back into place and sent hot flashes of pain through Jack’s neck and spine.

He yelled out. The medical drone prodded the reset shoulder, and Jack winced. The drone administered a shot to Jack’s neck and quickly left.

Jack slumped against the pillow behind him as the painkillers and sedatives kicked in. The clear composite walls of the cubicle seemed to warp and twist as Jack felt the drugs take him.

“Hey, Jacky.” Torent came alongside Jack’s bed. “Didn’t get hurt enough to get a new arm, eh, old pal?” Torent flexed his prosthetic arm in front of Jack. “Just a dislocation for you. Call that commitment?”

Jack tried to speak, but his tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

“Take it easy. Sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but Griff just made me squad leader again. Sixth Squad is mine again, old pal.” Torent tapped his badge with a finger of his prosthetic arm.

Jack couldn’t reply, but he was pleased for Torent. He was a good squad leader. He had authority and the respect of the Marines. Jack would make him squad leader if it was his decision.

“Someone wants to say hello,” Torent said. “I’ll see you later.”

Jack watched as Torent left and another person came forward. His vision was badly blurred, and he strained to see who it was. Then he felt a gentle hand on his forehead.

“Take it easy, Jack,” Reyes said. “You need to rest.”

He recognized her touch and her voice. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but he couldn’t.

“Just rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jack looked up at her face. He struggled to keep his eyes open and fight off the sedative washing over him. After all he’d been through, all he wanted was a minute with Reyes. Hopefully when he woke, they would be safe, far from battle and the war, and he could spend hours and days with her.

Jack lost the fight to keep his eyes open and drifted off into the comfortable darkness of sleep.

* * *

THANK YOU

Thank you so much for reading the stories in the Forged in Space Boxed Set. Jack has went from unwilling hero to Fleet Marine leader, but has a potentially deadly secret that could cost him everything. As he climbs the ranks, he will eventually have to face his past again and set things right, or put an end to it once and for all.

If you enjoyed the story, it would be awesome if you left a review for me. That really helps me reach more readers because Amazon features books with lots of good reviews.

At the end of the book, I have included a preview of the next book in the series, Forged in Darkness. Jack is continuing to climb the ranks, but his secret might still come back to haunt him as he embarks on a dangerous mission into the darkness of enemy space. After you read the preview, you can download the book on Amazon.

Get Forged in Darkness here: amazon.com/dp/B07B2LN3MY

At the end of the book, I also have a preview of Discovery which is the first book in the Niakrim War series which is published under my primary pen name (and real name) David J. VanBergen Jr. It’s right after the information about our newsletter. After you read the preview, you can download the book on Amazon.

Get Discovery here: amazon.com/dp/B071NJBNH4

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Preview: Forged in Darkness

The officers’ lounge was situated next to the command deck. Soundproof walls and decks, padded with noise-canceling fabric, created a quiet haven in the heart of the Scorpio. Several large, soft chairs and polished timber tables were dotted around the open space. Jack felt the background hum of the Scorpio fall away as he stepped into the comfortable lounge.

Commander Griff welcomed Jack with an outstretched hand. “You sure you’re ready to give up the cushy life of a Marine?”

Jack shook his head and smiled. “No, sir.”

Griff smiled back. “You don’t have to call me sir anymore, Jack. Call me Harry.”

“I haven’t been made up yet,” Jack said

“Too late to get out of it now.” Trace Matavesi stepped over. “Well done, Jack,” she said. “Call me Trace.”

Jack nodded. He felt uncertain. It felt strange using the commanders’ first names. He tried them on for size.

“Thank you, Harry,” Jack said, his voice catching in his throat. “Thank you, Trace,” he said, gaining confidence.

Jack had only ever seen Trace Matavesi on parade with the rest of the battalion. She was tall with broad shoulders, possibly the result of biotech enhancements. Her platinum blonde hair framed a pretty face with cold, gray steel eyes and full lips. Her handshake was firm but warm.

“Captain on deck,” Griff called out. Jack snapped to attention and noticed that Griff and Matavesi did so also.

Captain Pretorius walked into the officers’ lounge and saluted. “As you were,” he said, then walked to the drink cabinet and poured himself a tumbler of water. “We’re waiting for Agent Visser. She’ll be overseeing the official promotion procedure.” Pretorius looked over at Jack.

Jack felt the captain’s stare. Pretorius was tall and slim. His face was a mass of deep wrinkles. A scar over one eye merged with the wrinkles over his forehead and cheeks. Jack avoided the captain’s stare.

“Jack Forge,” Pretorius said. He placed his tumbler down and stepped over to Jack. “Good to finally meet you.” He extended his hand.

“Yes, sir,” Jack said and shook the captain’s hand. “You too, sir. It is an honor, sir.”

Jack noticed Griff and Matavesi smile at Jack’s nervousness.

“Calm down, son,” Pretorius said. “Relax or you’ll strain something.”

The sound of footsteps drew everyone’s attention. Striding into the lounge came Agent Visser. She saluted the captain with a swift, stiff, and yet somehow casual salute. “Sorry to keep you, Captain,” she said. “You can proceed.”

Captain Pretorius stood to one side of the lounge and spoke in a clear, calm voice. “I’d like to keep things pretty informal on this occasion. As you know, the battalion major would be responsible for awarding a field promotion, but unfortunately, Major Cruz was lost in the action on Proxis at the Battle of Drydock. So, it falls to me, with Agent Visser as observer, to perform this very special act. Marine Jack Forge, if you would step forward, please.”

Jack stepped toward the captain.

Pretorius pulled a small box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. “As recognition for your act of bravery and courage under fire, the Fleet Marine Division has seen fit to award you the Platinum Star.”

Pretorius opened the box and showed off the small glittering white star. Pretorius took it out of the box and pinned it to Jack’s lapel. He returned the empty box to his pocket and then took another, similar box out of his other jacket pocket.

“And now, Jack Forge, having shown exceptional leadership and solid tactical awareness in battle, the Fleet Marine division appoints you to the rank of commander, with all the rights and responsibilities of that rank.”

Pretorius opened the second box and showed it to the officers in the room, and then finally to Jack.

“It is with great pleasure that I hereby promote you to commander.”

Pretorius pinned the small golden stripe next to the platinum star on Jack’s tatty lapel. The captain stepped back and saluted. Jack returned the salute and noticed the others saluting him as well. It was a proud moment. Commander Griff, an officer and veteran of dozens of engagements, saluting him, Commander Trace Matavesi, the hero of Boa Company, who fought on bravely after losing over half her company during the Battle of Drydock, saluting him, Agent Visser, Fleet Intelligence, saluting him, and finally, Captain Pretorius, one of the fleet’s most respected captains and veteran of countless engagements, saluting him. Jack was filled with pride. He’d never wanted to be a Marine, but now he knew he couldn’t be anything else.

The captain dropped his salute and offered Jack his hand in a warm handshake while the others applauded and stepped up to welcome their new brother officer.

“Before I let you go,” Pretorius said, “the fleet will send a replacement major as soon as possible. Until then, you commanders will have to muddle through as best you can, but Commander Griff has seniority and until a replacement major is in post, he will be Acting Battalion Commanding Officer.”

The officers all congratulated Griff on his temporary assignment. He shrugged it off with humility and humor.

“Don’t think just because I’m acting CO I want to hear all of your complaining,” Griff said jovially. “My standing orders are to sort out your own problems and don’t make work for me.”

“What is our current operational status, Captain?” Visser asked.

“We are holding position in the Monarch Carrier Group, but I am expecting orders from Fleet Command at the top of the next watch.”

Pretorius tugged his cuffs. “Make sure your companies are at full readiness, Commanders. We don’t know what we’ll be asked to do next, but I think we can expect to be in action soon enough.”

“Maybe the Scorpio will be placed in spacedock for a total refit,” Griff said with a smile.

“And the battalion stood down for a week’s rest and recuperation on Eros,” Matavesi added.

“Or maybe we’ll be expected to do our duty and take the fight to the enemy,” Visser said coldly.

Pretorius tugged his cuffs again. “Oh, Corli,” Pretorius said, admonishing the agent. “Let them have an hour off, for krav’s sake.”

* * *

Read the rest of the story here:

amazon.com/dp/B07B2LN3MY

Preview: Discovery

Space is so boring!

This was certainly not what Violet had expected space travel to be like. She had dreamed of this since the first time she looked up at the stars in the sky, but none of those dreams had included endless days of nothingness. The only excitement she had experienced during the first days of the journey was when an occasional piece of space debris penetrated the warp field forcing the pilot to take evasive action. Even those potentially deadly encounters were brushed aside, as if they were no more bothersome than a fly buzzing around the room, by the Krim Sprinter's legendary pilot, Cyrus Jones, who was as much machine as man.

The captain had assured her that the Krim Sprinter was the fastest ship in the fleet, which made it the fastest ship in the known universe, when he reluctantly brought her on board the week before. The problem with space travel was the incomprehensible distances between planets. Even at three hundred times the speed of light, the travel time to Proxima was listed as seven days. The captain had assured her that they would be there in five. When she asked what they would do on the Proxima outpost for two days while they waited for the rest of the crew to arrive, Captain Mitch Cooper had just smiled and walked away.

After four days of watching countless specks of light stream past in a blur, Violet wished her childhood dream had involved something less monotonous...like being an accountant. She was wondering if it was possible to actually die of boredom when the ship violently lurched, throwing her from her chair. She froze in the air momentarily as the warp drive was forcibly shut down, dropping the ship back into real time, before being slammed into the navigation console. Everything went black.

When she came to, the ship’s bridge was in total chaos. Warning sirens were going off. Red lights were flashing. Captain Cooper was rushing from station to station, assessing damage and muttering to himself. She had a pretty good idea of what he was saying.

"What the hell just happened, Cyrus?"

"We were hit by a photon torpedo, Captain," he answered calmly as he stared at the seemingly empty space in front of the ship.

"That's impossible!"

"Yet here we are."

Captain Cooper looked ready to explode. Instead, he took a calming breath as he ran both hands through his grey hair. "Did you drop us out of warp before we tore the ship apart?"

"Of course," Cyrus replied without taking his eyes off the still empty space in front of the ship. "Belzaire's not gonna be happy, though. There's no telling how much of the warp system we tore up shutting it down that quickly."

Violet had pulled herself to her feet and was using the navigation console to steady herself. "So what just happened?"

"Somehow, we were hit by a photon torpedo while traveling at warp three," the captain muttered.

"How is that possible?"

"It's not."

The captain raised his hand to head off further questions. "We'll talk later. Can you find your way to engineering?"

"I think so."

"Get down there and help Belzaire. There's bound to be damage of some sort."

She was leaving the bridge when Cyrus quietly said, "There's something out there, Captain."

"Where?"

"Right in front of us."

"What is it?"

"I don't know," Cyrus answered. "I can't see it."

"If you can't see anything, how the hell do know something's there?"

Cyrus just shrugged.

The captain pointed at Violet. "Get to engineering. Tell Belzaire to get that warp drive back online."

"I'll do what I can."

The last thing Violet heard as she headed to engineering with a renewed sense of urgency was Captain Cooper telling Cyrus to put everything they had into the shields. All their lives might depend on it.

* * *

As Violet rushed into the warp room, she was confronted with a scene straight out of her nightmares. Glowing green warp fluid squirted everywhere. Steam leaks sprouted like geysers. Blinking red and yellow beacons were the only discernible source of light. When a huge man with deep red skin and jet black hair rounded the corner screaming curses, she thought, just for a moment, that she had been transported to Hell and was facing the devil himself.

"What are you doing here?" the large, angry man growled through gritted teeth.

"I...I...I'm here to help," she managed. "Captain said to help you get the warp system back online."

"Oh," he said with a sudden smile. "Glad to have you. I'm Belzaire. Come with me. We've got a lot of work to do."

Belzaire turned and walked straight into the chaos, not even bothering to avoid the steam blasts or leaking warp fluid. Violet followed tentatively, doing her best to avoid both. When she caught up to him, he was in the process of sliding a very heavy looking cabinet to the side, revealing a trapdoor in the floor.

"What's in there?"

"Warp fluid," he replied nonchalantly.

Before Violet could ask why the warp fluid was stored behind a hidden trapdoor, Belzaire pulled the door open to reveal a deep chamber with hundreds of clear cylinders full of glowing green fluid. There was easily ten times the legal limit of warp fluid in there.

Belzaire answered her unasked question with a mischievous smile and started pulling out cylinders. "We lost almost two hundred liters before I got the system shut down," he said. "I'll fix the leaks while you refill the system."

"Two hundred liters is more than a ship this size needs for the entire system," Violet sputtered, finally coming to terms with what she was seeing. "Not to mention twice the legal limit of reserves allowed on a ship like this."

"I've made some modifications," was all he said while he continued to pull out more cylinders of the precious liquid.

When he had retrieved twenty-five cylinders, Belzaire stood up and looked at Violet, who was staring at him with wide eyes, trying to comprehend what was going on. "Now, look," he said firmly. "If the captain sent you down here to help, something is seriously wrong. We need to get this ship back up and running. You deserve an explanation, but now is not the time."

Sensing the gravity of the situation, if not the cause, Violet nodded slowly. "What do you need me to do?"

Belzaire smiled reassuringly and pointed across the warp room to the half-empty tank of warp fluid. "We need to refill the reservoir. Can you do that while I fix the leaks?"

"I think so."

"Good. Just put a cylinder on the fill pad and hit the green button."

Those were the only instructions he gave before turning away and heading to a pipe leaking warp fluid on the far wall. Violet looked around the room briefly, wondering what she had gotten herself into, then started transporting the cylinders to the reservoir.

It took far longer than she had anticipated because she was constantly stepping over debris and around puddles of warp fluid, which she learned the hard way were very slippery. By the time the last cylinder had been sucked into the tank, Belzaire had finished repairing the leaks and was gathering the empty cylinders and putting them back in the hidden compartment. When she attempted to ask about them, Belzaire simply said, "Later," and closed the trap door and slid the cabinet back into place.

With the compartment of warp fluid again hidden, Belzaire turned to Violet and smiled warmly. "Thank you for your help," he said. "You should head back to the bridge. If something goes wrong, that's the best place to be."

She wanted so say something, ask questions, or try to figure out what exactly was going on. Instead, Violet simply said, "Okay," and headed out of the warp room, back to the bridge.

As soon as she turned to leave, Belzaire hurried to the control console and pushed the intercom button for the bridge. "Captain, we've got the system ready to power back up. We should be ready for warp travel in about five minutes, but we won't have full capacity until I can do a more thorough repair."

"Got it," came the captain’s disembodied reply. "Call me when you're ready."

* * *

Back on the bridge, Violet sat in the chair she had previously been thrown from, looking out into space. She was trying to piece together everything she had seen. Did the captain know there was enough illegal warp fluid hidden on his ship to get everyone on the ship executed? She thought it was likely that he did. And what did Belzaire mean by modifications? Nobody knew how warp travel really worked, it just did. Making modifications to something you didn't understand, and could kill you, was crazy. But then again, much of what she had seen and heard since coming aboard the Krim Sprinter was a bit bizarre.

The captain's voice brought her back to the apparently tense situation. "Is it still there, whatever it is?"

"Yes, it is, Captain."

"And you still don't know what it is?"

"Nope."

Violet expected the captain to be angry, but he simply nodded, seeming to accept that there was something invisible, and possibly dangerous, just outside. Yep, things were definitely a bit crazy aboard the Krim Sprinter.

"Captain, the warp system is online and ready to go," the intercom suddenly blared. "Tell Cyrus to keep it to warp one, one point five max. But preferably warp one."

"You heard him, Cyrus. Warp speed one point eight."

Cyrus looked at him with a disapproving glare, but simply asked, "Where to, Captain?"

"Anywhere but here."

A moment later, Cyrus reported, "We're ready when you are, Captain."

"Drop the shields and engage the warp field as fast as your robotic arm possibly can," the captain said as he leaned forward in his chair, staring intently at the still empty space in front of the ship. "Three, two, one, go."

Everything happened so fast; Violet could barely comprehend what she was seeing. She could hear the click of the shields dropping and feel time freeze momentarily as the warp field formed and the ship jumped into warp speed. And in the same instant, she saw three photon blasts appear out of nowhere, heading straight for them. She squeezed her eyes shut and grabbed the chair, bracing for an impact that never came. When she managed to pry her eyes open, all she could see was the emptiness of space streaking past.

Maybe space wasn't going to be so boring after all.

* * *

Read the rest of the story here:

amazon.com/dp/B071NJBNH4