Prologue

Prologue

The waiting room, while comfortable, was the last place Captain Lisa Shaw wanted to be at this moment. A week ago she had been in command of a United Earth Alliance cruiser stationed in deep space around Jupiter, the months of monotony interrupted by an urgent message that said simply for Shaw to return to Earth as soon as possible for new orders. What was more unusual was that the order was sent from the commander of the Alliance Space Command instead of through the usual command channels, which meant that whatever going on was of the utmost importance.

The entire trip back to Earth, Shaw had tried to decipher what could be so important, but there was nothing she could think of. The Alliance had no major enemies after crushing the rebels on the Mars colony five years ago, nor had there been any raids by the gangs of space pirates that occasionally came out of hiding to steal supplies bound for Mars or the lunar colony. She was not aware of anything on Earth that would require her presence; patrolling deep space was a quiet, thankless job that yielded no praise and even fewer opportunities to get into trouble. The only other thought was that since the message was from her mother, it could be something concerning the family. Perhaps one of her parents was ill, but Shaw doubted that her mother would have hesitated to simply say that in the message. All the way back to Earth, Shaw had thought about why she had been ordered back, yet even as she sat in the waiting room she could not for the life of her decipher why she had been told to come to Earth.

“The admiral will see you now,” the admiral’s aide announced, motioning to the open door. Shaw nodded, picking up the white dress hat that she had left on the table beside her chair, before she went inside. The bare wood-paneled walls, drab chairs, and lack of any decoration is not how someone would picture the office of the head of the Alliance Space Command, but Admiral Lynette Shaw and her daughter had very similar styles.

“Captain Shaw, reporting as ordered,” Shaw saluted, wanting to preserve a professional atmosphere.

“Have a seat, Lisa,” her mother replied, motioning Shaw to one of the two uncomfortable chairs across from the desk. The admiral got up, circling around the desk to the door, locking it before she continued. “What I am about to show you is of the highest security. If any word of it leaks out, it would lead to your immediate discharge.”

Admiral Shaw sat down, handing her daughter a compad. Shaw activated the tiny computer pad, her eyes widening as she read the first paragraph. “This can’t be true, there aren’t any known hospitable planets.”

“Don’t be so naïve, Lisa,” Admiral Shaw snapped. “The planet was first sighted almost two centuries ago by an American astronomer. A follow-up probe revealed that the planet has atmosphere and gravity within tolerable human limits, but there was simply no way to reach the planet in a reasonable amount of time until now.”

“So you’ve been keeping this planet a secret for nearly two hundred years?”

“Of course. No one wanted some radical group to discover its location and set up shop there. It’s time now, though, for this secret to be revealed. Your mission will be to escort a group of engineers to this planet so they can establish a base camp and garrison force. There’s no need for sophisticated airtight structures like on Mars, but before colonists can be sent the proper infrastructure must be created. You won’t have to be there the whole time, just long enough for the engineers to get settled, then you can return to Earth.”

“How many ships are involved?”

“Just two. The Explorer will be refit for the journey, as well as a cargo vessel for the engineers and their equipment. The compad I gave you breaks down all of the forces involved in this operation.”

Shaw scanned the compad, surprised by the amount of personnel being committed to the mission. Two companies of infantry, a platoon of armor, and two squadrons of fighters were to be assigned to the Explorer, which would make space tight aboard the ship, but there would be enough to accommodate the mission. Shaw looked up at her mother, a grimace on her face. “There must be dozens of captains more qualified to lead this mission.”

“No one has as much deep space experience as you, Lisa. We’re going to need someone who we can be sure will be able to handle being far from Earth for an extended period of time.”

“But I don’t have any combat experience. What if something goes wrong?”

“The probe we sent to the planet detected no hostile activity of any kind, so combat experience was deemed irrelevant.”

“Aren’t you afraid this will look like favoritism?”

“There were a few problems, one or two people were concerned about your age, thinking that someone older should lead the mission, but they were persuaded by your exemplary service record.” At thirty-seven, Shaw was the youngest captain in the fleet, but Shaw had already put in five years of service as captain of the Explorer.

“I’m honored that you think my record is exemplary, but…”

“There are no ‘but’s here, Lisa. Will you do it?”

Shaw thought about it for a moment. It was a great opportunity, but it would mean taking so much responsibility on her shoulders. There was a chance, though, that something like this would never happen to her again. “I’ll do it. How long do I have to get ready?”

“The targeted launch date is one year from now. I already have people overseeing the Explorer’s refit; your job will be to pick your crew. You will have anyone at your disposal, including next year’s Academy graduates, so start thinking it over as soon as you’re settled in.”

“Settled in?” Shaw didn’t like the sound of the last two words.

“I’ve assigned you a temporary office in the Compound for the next year while the Explorer is refit. Ask Lieutenant Ward for the address on your way out.”

Shaw sighed, not wanting to return to the Compound, where most of the Alliance Space Command’s administrators were housed. She had spent four years working there, pushing papers behind a desk, a job she had loathed to no end. Still, at least this time her stay would have more meaning then just writing reports. “Thank-you, Admiral, is that all?”

“Not quite. Your father’s on an inspection tour on Mars, but I thought that you and I could meet for dinner later.” Shaw’s father was a major general in the Alliance Defense Force, which meant that Shaw and her parents were rarely all together in one place.

“All right. You decide the time and place.”

“Good, I’ll have Lieutenant Ward make the arrangements.” As Shaw turned to go, her mother called out, “Congratulations, Lisa.” Shaw didn’t relish spending a year on the ground, but she was excited at the prospect of handpicking a crew for the most important mission in human history. Before she could begin, though, she would need some help.

***

Commander Arsa Veranda sat in a dark corner booth, nursing a beer and wondering what she was doing in the small London pub. Two hours ago she had been getting off her shuttle from the Explorer when she received Lisa Shaw’s urgent request for a meeting. Shaw wouldn’t say what she wanted to meet about, only that it was important that they talk immediately and in-person. Intrigued, Veranda had agreed, but she was starting to wonder if Shaw would show up. She decided to keep waiting, knowing that her best friend would not make her wait this long unless it were important.

It was another hour and two beers later before Shaw wearily sank into the seat across from Veranda. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.

“Oh, no problem, I’ve been wanting to get reacquainted with London’s cultural elite,” a loud belch from a patron punctuated Veranda’s sarcastic statement.

“I know, but I couldn’t tell you about this on the comm, there could be someone listening in.”

“So what’s the fuss all about?”

Shaw took a deep breath before continuing, “I spoke with my mother today and she assigned me to head up a colonizing mission outside the Solar System.”

“Is that even possible?” Veranda asked with disbelief.

“Apparently it is,” Shaw explained the details of the mission, eventually concluding, “the upshot is that she wants me to put together a crew for this mission and I want you as my first officer.”

Veranda was shocked, but finally managed to ask, “How long is this mission for?”

“It should only be two years, three at the most.”

“Three years? I’ll have to ask Ted about it.”

Shaw nodded, “That’s fine. Just let me know as soon as you’re able. I’ll be at the Compound when you decide.” Shaw stood up and left, leaving Veranda to sit in the booth, too lost in thought to move. Three years was a long time, she had never been away from her family for more then a year at a time, but it was the chance of a lifetime. She finally paid her bill and stepped out into the cool London night, signaling for a cab to take her home.

The cab finally came to a stop at the small house Veranda and her husband owned outside the city. The house was over a hundred years old and looked even older from the lack of attention its owners paid to it. Veranda walked down the cracked path to the front door, which gave a loud groan as she opened it. She quietly stalked down the hallway, being careful not to trip over one of her daughter’s misplaced toys.

As she suspected, Dr. Theodore Veranda was in his study, hunched over a medical journal in a battered Louis XVI chair. “You know they have those on compads now,” Veranda said from the doorway.

Dr. Veranda looked up from the periodical, his face splitting from ear-to-ear with a grin. “I find the sound of the pages turning to be very relaxing,” he said as he tossed the journal to the floor. He took Veranda into his arms, kissing her passionately before saying, “This is quite a surprise, I wasn’t expecting you for another two months.”

Veranda smiled bashfully, not quite sure how to broach the subject. “Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“So I take it this is good news?” Dr. Veranda asked guardedly.

“Well, you could say that. I met Lisa Shaw just after I landed to discuss some things.”

“So how is Lisa these days?” The question was good-natured enough, but Veranda could see her husband’s enthusiasm sinking as he sat back down. It was obvious he suspected something was up, something that he didn’t want to hear.

“She wants to keep me as her XO for a very important mission. I can’t give you any details, but it’s something big.”

“How long does this big mission last?”

Veranda swallowed and replied, “Between two and three years, with no chance of leave.”

The study was dead quiet for a few moments before Dr. Veranda asked softly, “Did you accept it yet?”

“No, I wanted to discuss it with you first.”

“So what do you want to do?”

“Please Ted, don’t start treating me like one of your patients…”

“I know you, Arsa, I know that you’ve already decided to go.”

“I didn’t say that.” Veranda protested.

“No, but it’s always been your career before everything else…”

Before her husband could finish, Veranda interrupted, “I do not!”

“We had to practically tie you down to get you to go on maternity leave before you had Ally.”

“That’s not true,” Veranda replied, but less forcefully.

“Look, Arsa, this isn’t a problem for me. I knew when I married you that we wouldn’t always be together, but what about Ally? Do you really want to leave her for three years?”

“No, of course not, but this is such a great opportunity that if I pass it up I could regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Do you think that’s all there is to it?”

“What else could there be?”

“How about the fact that you went against the wishes of your adopted parents, ran away from Oxford University, and joined the military?”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

“You still feel guilty about that, you’ve been trying to win their approval ever since.”

“I don’t regret joining the service. If I hadn’t, we would never have met.”

“Perhaps that would have been for the best.”

Veranda was shocked; she gripped the doorframe for support. “What are you saying?”

“I think we should divorce.”

“No, I won’t go on the mission, I’ll stay here with you and Ally.”

Veranda’s husband stood up, took her hand, and looked deeply into her eyes. “We both know that isn’t what you want. If you stay, you’ll hate me for keeping me here, and I don’t want that. I love you, and I always will, but Ally needs a mother here on Earth, not in the stars.”

Tears sprang to Veranda’s cheeks, she pressed herself tightly against her husband’s smaller frame. “I don’t want to lose you and Ally.”

“There will always be a place here for you. How long until you have to leave again?”

“I…I can stay the weekend.”

“Good, then we can tell Ally together. I’ll have the papers drawn up on Monday and send them to you.”

“All right,” Veranda replied, too choked with grief to say anything more. Like a child she let her husband put her to bed, but she did not sleep. She could only stare at the ceiling and listen to her husband’s distant sobs. While the tears flowed, she knew that this grand mission had already cost her the thing she held the most dear.

***

The mission was going smoothly, Cadet Laurie Thornton observed to herself as she yawned. It had only been twenty-four hours since she had boarded a shuttle in Vancouver to take her and thirty other Alliance Military Academy cadets to the Armstrong Training Base on Earth’s moon; Thornton had not yet adjusted to the time difference. It certainly didn’t help that the mission was so incredibly dull.

For the next two weeks, half of the Academy’s junior class would take part in the Interspace Orientation and Maneuvering class that every cadet had to pass before advancing to senior status. It was not until senior year when the cadets would fight mock battles in the empty space between Earth and Mars, which meant there would be little to do, except watch the designated training ship traverse a set of buoys.

“Status of the Gibraltar?” Thornton asked. Each group of thirty cadets would be split in two, one group actually on board the training ship, the other on the ground to monitor it. Thornton was not looking forward to being on the Gibraltar tomorrow, the aged Farragut-class frigate was cramped, lacked gravity generators, and had a strange odor to it, or so she was told.

“Gibraltar is on course,” Cadet Jacob Goldstein reported.

“Good,” Thornton glanced over her shoulder, but Captain Shanahan’s face was unreadable. Shanahan was the instructor for this mission, but so far he had said only about a dozen words, content to lurk in a dark corner with his compad to observe the exercise.

Thornton wanted to sit down and take a nap, but she decided to instead walk down the row of computers to look over the shoulders of the cadets, each of whom was monitoring some aspect of the Gibraltar and its path. It was as she completed this circuit that Goldstein called out, “Sir, an unknown ship is approaching the course.”

“Advise them to leave the area at once,” Thornton ordered more sharply then she intended.

“No response,” another cadet said.

Thornton strode over to Goldstein’s station, which showed the ship in question. It was a Dodger-class freighter, a model that had been discontinued around the time the Gibraltar had been built. Many were still in service by legitimate businesses because they were cheap and reliable transport, but many more were in the employ of space pirate gangs that harassed shipping between Earth and Mars. There were no markings on the freighter, but there were numerous dark blotches along the hull that were probably missile tubes. That thought brought Thornton to full alertness. “Alert the Gibraltar, have the Lunar Guard scramble fighters to intercept, and ask any nearby ships for assistance,” Thornton commanded. She then turned to Captain Shanahan. “Do you wish to take command, sir?”

“Not just yet,” Shanahan replied from his corner. Thornton nodded and returned her gaze to Goldstein’s station. The freighter was on a direct intercept course with the Gilbraltar, if it was pirates; it wouldn’t be long until they opened fire. Thornton’s best friend at the Academy was on-board the training ship, but there was little more she could do from the ground then pray.

***

“Unidentified ship is still approaching,” Cadet Jack Laurants called out from the sensor station on the bridge of the Gibraltar. Laurants was serving as both sensor operator and executive officer for the ship; he turned to the cadet in charge, Erik Anders. “What are your orders, sir?”

“Maintain course,” Anders replied, his face betraying the forced calm of his voice.

“Yes, sir,” Laurants responded, anxiously watching the freighter close the distance. There had been no problems during the first legs of mission; it was only as the Gibraltar lined up for its final approach to the Moon that the freighter had appeared. From its approach vector, Laurants surmised that it had come from the dark side of the Moon, staying in commercial traffic routes until it was close enough to intercept the Alliance frigate before help could arrive. Of course the freighter had yet to open fire, but Laurants could see parts of the hull retracting to reveal missile emplacements. “They’re preparing to open fire!”

Laurants turned to Anders, but the young man’s pale face was completely blank. After a moment of silence, Laurants looked questioningly to Commander Hull, the instructor for the mission. Hull nodded slightly before commanding, “Cadet Sims, fire port maneuvering thrusters for three seconds followed by Z1s for another five seconds.” The Gibraltar meandered to the left before wobbling up. The maneuvers would have little effect, but it might force the pirates to adjust their targeting, buying more time for the Alliance training ship.

There were multiple flashes of blue on the sensor display as missiles streamed out of the launch tubes of the pirate freighter. “Missiles away,” Laurants called out.

Hull punched the ship-wide intercom, calmly announcing, “All hands, brace for impact.” Laurants checked the straps that bound him to his chair and gripped the armrests as tightly as he could. There was no way for the Gibraltar to avoid the missiles, nor did the training ship have the countermeasures and jamming equipment of regular Alliance vessels. They were literally at the mercy of the pirates.

Laurants closed his eyes as the missiles started to hit, shaking the Gibraltar violently. There were screams, Laurants could hear things hitting the deck, but when he opened his eyes it was completely dark. Orange emergency lights flickered to life, providing Laurants with just enough light to see Commander Hull sitting limply in his chair, rivulets of blood drifting towards the ceiling. “Erik, you’re in charge now, what are your orders?” Laurants shouted. Anders’s face was twisted in a mask of horror, his mouth moving without any sound coming out.

“Damage report?” Anders whispered.

“Port and Z2 thrusters completely destroyed, starboard primary engine inoperative, heavy damage to all decks,” Laurants reported.

“Maintain course,” Anders replied.

“We’ll never make it…”

“I am in command, do as I say!” Anders shouted hysterically.

Laurants looked around the bridge, there were only two other cadets still conscious: Karen Taylor the navigator and Rob Wilson the weapons officer. Both looked disoriented and confused, mindlessly looking around the bridge. “Rob, what kind of weapons do we have?”

“You can’t fight them!” Anders blurted out.

“Shut up! Rob?”

Wilson turned to his display for a moment before replying nervously, “Twenty training missiles and three NEMP-2 rounds.”

Laurants nodded, trying to keep from grimacing. The training missiles had no warheads, only computer instrumentation that would simulate a hit on an opposing vessel. The NEMP, or Naval Electro-Magnetic Projectile weapon was just a fancy name for a rail gun, its three rounds as effective as spit wads unless they were aimed at precisely the right spot.

“Karen, take over the helm. Rob, I want you to target all missiles for the starboard side of that ship.”

“Yes, sir,” the two cadets replied in unison.

Anders’s face flushed red, “You are not in command here!”

“Erik, I am relieving you of command.”

“You don’t have the authority.”

“According to regulation, the executive officer may relieve the captain if he believes the captain is not fit for command.”

“You’re going to get us all killed.”

Laurants unfastened the straps holding him to his chair and floated over to Anders. “Erik, if you do not relinquish command, I will have no choice but to use force.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Laurants swung his right hand as hard as he could. In zero-G the punch would not have much force behind it, but it was enough to knock Anders unconscious. Laurants suspected that Anders had blacked out more from fear than anything else. He turned to look at Wilson and Taylor, both of whom were in shock by what had transpired. Before Laurants could say anything, another wave of missiles rocked the Gibraltar. Shrapnel screamed through the bridge, one chunk lodging squarely in Wilson’s forehead. Laurants felt his stomach churn as he watched Wilson’s blood gush, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. “Are you all right?” He asked Taylor.

“I’m fine,” she whimpered.

“Good. Take the helm and fire the starboard thrusters for two seconds on my signal,” Laurants commanded while unfastened Wilson and took over the weapons station. The weapons systems were both still functional, but the targeting systems were damaged. Laurants would have to aim visually and hope for the best. He programmed all twenty missiles to fire on the same target, sighted the targeting crosshairs on the pirate ship’s starboard side, waited for a missile lock, then squeezed the launch trigger. “Fire thrusters!”

The Gibraltar managed to drift to the right ever so slightly, just as the missiles struck the left side of the pirate ship. The freighter reflexively moved its starboard side away from the training ship, even though the missiles had done little damage. The maneuver brought the pirate ship’s port side right where Laurants wanted it. He quickly targeted a spot just aft of the bridge and pressed the trigger three times. He could hear a whump! sound as the three NEMP-2 rounds were hurled from the rail gun and towards the freighter.

The rail gun rounds struck home, only centimeters from where Laurants had targeted them. There was the briefest of explosions, and then all lights on board the pirate ship went black. “Karen, throw all power to the main drive and get us out of here.”

Taylor nodded, breaking down into sobs once she had carried out the order. Laurants unfastened his straps to drift over and hold her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his shoulder.

“It’s OK, I understand,” Laurants replied as he remembered when he had cried in just such a way after holding his mother’s limp body in his hands. He let his tears join Taylor’s as the Gibraltar trundled back to Armstrong base.

***

Thornton breathed a sigh of relief as the pirate freighter limped away from the Gibraltar. It was a useless gesture; fighters from the Lunar Guard would intercept and disable the pirate ship within the hour. A tug was already on the way to help steer the Gibraltar back to port, there had been no word from the frigate, from the damage to the ship it was likely the comm was no longer functioning.

She felt a hand slap her shoulder and saw Captain Shanahan smiling down at her. “Good work, Cadet,” he said.

“With all due respect, sir, I didn’t do anything,” Thornton replied, thinking of her friend aboard the Gibraltar. She knew that Jack Laurants was alive, no one else would have pulled off such a stunt, but even now he could be bleeding to death while she stood here impotently.

“What you didn’t do was panic, very commendable for a junior cadet.”

“Thank-you, sir.” Thornton looked up at Shanahan’s impassive face and asked, “Sir, I would like to be there when they bring the survivors in.”

“You have a friend aboard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, follow me.”

Thornton trailed behind Shanahan to the airlock nearest to the base’s hospital, where the survivors would be taken once they landed. It was three hours of nervous waiting, but a shuttle carrying the six survivors of the Gibraltar finally landed. Jack Laurants was at the head of the line, his arms around the shoulders of a female cadet Thornton didn’t recognize, but who appeared to be weeping uncontrollably. Laurants steered his charge into the waiting arms of a medic, then spotted Thornton and Shanahan. He saluted and reported, “Captain, all Gibraltar crewmembers accounted for.”

“Good work, Cadet. You’d better see someone about that shoulder.” Laurants looked down at his right shoulder, as if only now noticing the red stain on his uniform.

“Of course, sir. After that, I recommend that you have MPs escort me to the brig.”

Thornton and Shanahan shared puzzled expressions, Shanahan finally asking, “What for?”

“Mutiny, sir.”

***

“This is unbelievable,” Commander Arsa Veranda breathed as she read the news report. “I can’t believe they had the balls to go after an Alliance training ship like that.”

Shaw shook her head as she settled into her new office chair. “That’s not the impressive part. It was a twenty-one year old kid who figured out how to beat the pirate ship, a Cadet Jack Laurants.”

“The kid isn’t that smart, he punched out the cadet in charge and took command. He’ll be lucky to be expelled after that…” Veranda stopped as she saw the look on Shaw’s face. “You know something I don’t?”

“I placed a few calls to the committee overseeing his case.”

“And…”

“He’ll be confined to quarters all of his last year at the Academy.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it. He broke protocol, but he did save the ship and its crew. Besides, the Academy doesn’t want to expel the star center of their hockey team, not three months before the finals, and I gave them another good reason.”

“Which is?”

“He’ll be coming with us when he graduates.”

“You can’t be serious! He attacked his commanding officer!” Veranda shook her head in disgust. “I can’t believe that you’d do something like this.”

Shaw tossed a compad across the desk. “Read his file. He’s never been a discipline problem before this incident, he’s tested highly in all of his simulator sessions, and he’s also the youngest cadet to be selected as captain for the Alliance hockey team.”

“So he doesn’t have a record and he can play hockey, it doesn’t erase the fact that he’s dangerous.”

“It’s my call and I say he comes with us, end of story.”

Veranda sighed, “I guess there’s no talking you out of it, is there?”

“No, there isn’t. I also received a recommendation from a Captain Shanahan on Armstrong Base praising the leadership skill of Cadet Laurie Thornton. She was in charge of the ground team and kept her cool. Put her on our list to watch.”

“Got any other surprises to spring on me?”

“I think that’s enough for one day,” Shaw laughed. “Now, how’s the refit of the Explorer doing?”

“Before I left yesterday the entire ship was a mess. Every panel has been torn open to check the wiring and to upgrade systems, but the techs assure me that everything will be finished on schedule.”

“Good. Next week we’ll begin sifting through files to narrow our list. I want you to go and interview some people, try to uncover any personal problems that might exist. Whoever goes on this mission is going to be away for a couple of years, I don’t want them going crazy or getting violent.”

“Like a cadet who punches out his commanding officer?” Veranda asked, her mouth tightening.

“I know it’s hard to believe, but just trust me.”

“I really don’t have much choice.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shaw chided. She could see the resentment on Veranda’s face, it was the first time in five years that Shaw had been forced to pull rank on her first officer. She decided that it would be best to change the subject. “How are Ted and Ally doing these days?”

“They’re doing fine,” Veranda said flatly, her face clearly indicating that Shaw should not delve any deeper into the matter. “So what are you going to be doing?”

Shaw grimaced. “I thought I’d just go home.” Home meant the house Shaw’s parents owned in rural Virginia, she had never bothered with finding a place of her own.

“Sounds like a lot of fun.”

“I wouldn’t count on that,” Shaw replied gravely.

***

Over the last fifty years, Mars had become home to millions of human settlers, but it remained a deadly place. Scientists had managed to claim less than a thousand acres of the red planet for growing specially genetically engineered crops, but even that land could not be reaped without an environment suit. The mythical process of terraforming always seemed just out of reach, dooming Lieutenant Amanda Rosaro to don clunky armored environment suits before they set off across the Martian Outback.

The Outback, as the colonists had dubbed it, was virtually untouched by human technology. There were, however, footprints in the red dust that had been created only hours ago according to sensor readings. Rosaro halted her platoon, studying the path of the tracks. “So what do you think?” She asked her second-in-command, Master Sergeant Alex Davis.

“Probably about a dozen of the bastards, no sign of any vehicles, though. That would be an awful long way to go on foot,” Davis replied.

“Who goes on a raiding party without some kind of transportation?” Rosaro asked, mostly to herself. “Did we get anything from the farms they hit?”

“No one actually saw the raiders. They just heard a commotion and saw figures running away, no concrete descriptions. They were on foot, though.”

“So we aren’t dealing with pros.”

“Not unless the separatists have gotten desperate.”

“Great, probably a bunch of fucking kids. Why can’t the local cops handle this? There wasn’t enough stolen to be an Alliance military matter,” Rosaro sighed, kicking up a cloud of red dust in disgust.

“Beats me, let’s just do our job and get the hell out of here.” Rosaro nodded wearily, knowing that the mission was a wild goose chase. Davis barked, “Fifth Platoon, move out!” The twenty-four soldiers trudged onward, following the path of the tracks for another two hours until the trail ended at the foot of a large ridge. The twisted hulk of a downed Alliance supply ship leaned against the ridge, lying upside-down.

“Looks like we found our raiders,” Rosaro growled. “Everyone pair up! Pete, Damon, Deivi, and Dougie, stay out here to watch our backs. Charlie, you and Reekie take the point. We’ll go in and search that ship top-to-bottom. Everyone stays together unless I say so, I don’t want anyone to blunder off into ambushes or booby-traps. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The platoon responded quietly. Private Charles Cromwell and Corporal Enrique Caustillo took the lead, carefully making their way towards the downed craft. Rebel separatists often mined or booby-trapped entrances to their lairs, but Cromwell and Caustillo were experienced scouts, they could spot a mine or booby-trap before anyone else. Rosaro and Davis followed behind, keeping their weapons ready for trouble and comms keyed to the platoon’s frequency in case anything happened.

Rosaro carefully ducked under a piece of broken hull plating to step inside the ruined freighter. Wreckage was strewn throughout the blackened corridors, but none of it hid any traps. The platoon carefully opened any doors they encountered, briefly searching the rooms for separatists. Someone had scrawled rebel slogans along parts of the wall, but there was still no sign of life. “Charlie, what have you got?”

“Nothing so far, chief,” Cromwell reported. “Looks like someone was here at least for a little while.”

“That was my impression too. So where the hell did they go?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t look like this is the place,” Cromwell shot back.

“Where are you guys at?”

“We’re by the bridge,” Caustillo replied. “Looks like the bridge pressure seals are still working to keep air in, so someone could be in there. We’re checking right now to see if the doors are wired.”

“We’re right behind you.” Rosaro motioned the troops forward, wondering if the platoon had followed the wrong set of tracks. Over the comm there was suddenly the sound of a shot. “What the hell is that?”

“Better get here quick, sir! You aren’t going to believe it,” Cromwell said ominously. Rosaro ran forward to the bridge, bursting through the open doors ready for action. She skidded to a halt, the adrenaline surge she had been feeling turned to shock. Cromwell and Caustillo had their weapons leveled at a group of children huddled in the remnants of the ship’s bridge.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Rosaro blurted out.

“These are the vicious raiders we were chasing,” Caustillo answered. The children ranged in age from toddlers to teenagers, but all looked badly undernourished. A teenage girl, apparently the leader of the group, stepped forward.

“We were just taking some supplies to survive. Our parents were captured on a raid three months ago, we haven’t seen anyone since then,” the girl was about seventeen, with a pale, freckled face and tangled red hair that would have made her attractive if she wasn’t so filthy and malnourished.

“We’re going to have to take you and your friends in,” Rosaro said good-naturedly.

“We’d rather die than go to an Alliance prison,” the girl replied viciously. A pistol suddenly appeared in her hand with the barrel pointing towards Cromwell, her pale blue eyes staring in defiance at Rosaro.

“If you give back whatever you stole, no charges will be pressed, I promise. We just need to take you to a place where they can take care of all of you. Now put the gun down.”

“You promise nothing will happen to us?”

“No, you’ll be remanded into the custody of Relocation Services. They’ll find new homes for all of you.”

“I’m not going to Relocation Services!” The girl shouted, taking a firmer grip on her weapon.

“What is it that you want?” Rosaro asked, unsure about how long the girl had been without food. If she was too desperate, the situation could easily escalate beyond Rosaro’s control.

“I want to fly for the Defense Force.”

Rosaro looked over at Davis, who shrugged helplessly. “I’ll do what I can, but the Martian Defense Force is separate from the Alliance military.”

“I don’t care!”

Rosaro could see the resolve on the girl’s dirty face, the determination in her eyes. Still, what could she do? She was an Alliance lieutenant; she couldn’t pull rank on anyone in the Defense Force. There was one thing she could do, but it wasn’t a very appealing option. Under the circumstances, though, it might be the only way. She activated her comm, tuning to a private frequency. She carefully backed out of the bridge, heading back down the corridor to an empty room that had once been the mess hall. “Deivi, patch me through to the Defense Force HQ. I need to talk to a Colonel Scott Hastings.”

“I’m on it,” Private Deivi Ramirez responded. It took a full minute before the static on the comm frequency was replaced with a friendly voice.

“Colonel Hastings.”

“Scott, this is Amanda Rosaro, I’ve got a situation.”

“Manny! I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again. Where are you?”

“I’m in the Outback. I need a big favor from you.”

“You’ve avoided me for two years and now you want a favor?” Hastings asked, his voice lacking the malice his words implied.

“We tracked a group of raiders to an abandoned ship in the Outback. Turns out the raiders are just a bunch of kids whose parents were captured months ago. The kids were just looking for some food.”

“That doesn’t sound like anything I can help with.”

“One of them has got a weapon pointed at my men. Things are going to get ugly unless someone clears her to join the Defense Force.”

There was silence for several seconds, making Rosaro think the signal had been lost, until Hastings replied, “That’s…that’s really unusual. You know we don’t let separatists in, the risk is too high that they’ll sabotage our equipment.”

“Scott, I can’t just shoot her because of some stupid rule, and she’s not going to drop the gun unless she gets what she wants. You’ve got to help me out.”

“I clear her and she blows something up, then I’ll be court-martialed! There’s no way!”

“If she wanted to get into the Defense Force just to sabotage stuff, I think she’d be a little more subtle,” Rosaro responded sarcastically. She forced herself then to say sweetly, “Please, Scott, you’re the only one who can help me.”

There was another long pause before Hastings sighed, “All right, I can pull some strings, but she’ll have to pass the psychiatric exam. If she fails that we won’t take her. It’s the best I can do.”

“Thanks, Scott, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, I was always a sucker for helping damsels in distress. When you get into town, come see me, we can have dinner.”

Rosaro gave a loud, mock-exasperated sigh. “I guess if I have to. I’ll see you when I get in.”

“I’ll be waiting. Oh, and at least scrape the mud off your boots this time.”

“All right, all right. Thanks, Scott.” She broke off the conversation, heading back to the standoff on the bridge. Nothing had really changed while she was gone. The girl still had her weapon pointed at Cromwell’s head while the Fifth Platoon nervously aimed their rifles at the separatist children.

“Where’d you go?” Davis asked.

“I had to call a friend. I think I’ve come up with the solution,” Rosaro whispered before stepping carefully towards the girl. “They’ve agreed to let you in, but only if you pass a psychiatric exam to make sure you aren’t going to sabotage anything. That’s the best I can do.”

The girl nodded, deactivating the pistol’s safety and handing the weapon to Rosaro. “It’ll do.”

The Alliance soldiers breathed a collective sigh of relief. Rosaro tucked the pistol into her belt and said, “We’ll wait here until we can get a transport for all of you. By the way, I don’t think I caught your name.”

The girl smiled ever so slightly. “My name is Sandra, Sandra Jordan.”

***

An Alliance troop transport arrived an hour later, its cargo bay packed with the platoon of Alliance soldiers and their charges. Rosaro sat next to Jordan, who was slowly rocking one of the youngest children to sleep. As the transport took off, Rosaro took her helmet and breathing mask off, shaking out her shoulder-length black hair. “If your parents were separatists, why are you so eager to join the Defense Force?” Rosaro asked.

Jordan was silent for a minute, brushing back strands of hair from her face as she turned to Rosaro. “Before the war,” Jordan began, continuing to rock the child in her arms. “I was the top junior pilot on all of Mars. I competed in speed races, aerobatic shows, precision flying demonstrations, and every kind of competition involving aircraft. When the war started, my parents, like most of us in the rural parts, chose to fight with the separatists. I was too young to really understand why the war was being fought, I had never even seen an Alliance soldier until my parents took us to Ares City when I was ten.”

“For the first two years of the fighting I was left on the farm to watch my little brother and sister. As the war grew more desperate, though, my parents forced me to fight for the separatists. I piloted a civilian plane to gather intelligence on troop movements and such, sending word back to my parents so that they could avoid Alliance patrols and lay ambushes.”

Jordan stopped, tears coming to her eyes. “So many…so many people died because of the information I reported to my parents. After the war was over and my family went into hiding, I promised myself I’d find some way to make up for what I had done. Finally, I realized that the best thing I could do is to defend a united Mars, to protect all people of the colony. That’s why I wanted to get into the Defense Force so badly; it’s the only way I can help to heal the wounds caused by people like my parents. I thought I could sneak away to Ares City and join, but then the adults were captured and I had to take care of everyone. I knew that if I went to Relocation Services they’d tag me as a separatist and I’d never get in, so…I’m sorry.”

Jordan’s voice trailed off into a quiet sob, tears coming more readily. Rosaro put an arm around the girl, trying to comfort her. “It’s all right, Sandra, you weren’t responsible, you were only a kid.” Rosaro looked across the aisle at Davis, who had heard the entire conversation. His face was tinged with sadness, he responded to her look by shaking his head. Rosaro turned back to Jordan, who was whispering something to the child in her arms to ease the toddler back to sleep. Rosaro gently stroked Jordan’s head and held her close the rest of the way, trying to make the girl feel safe. Rosaro doubted that she was very successful.

***

It wasn’t until much later that night that Rosaro caught up with Hastings at his favorite haunt, the Officer’s Club of the Martian Defense Force base outside of Ares City. Hastings was sitting in a corner booth, thoughtfully chewing a piece of Martian steak when Rosaro found him. She had replaced her combat attire with her olive duty uniform, and when Hastings looked down at her feet he saw her spit-shined black boots. “At least you cleaned your boots,” he smiled, motioning for her to sit down.

“So how did it go?” Rosaro asked.

“Not too bad. Records of separatists are kind of spotty, and fortunately none of the captured separatists ever named her. Command might wonder about her parents, but I think they’ll believe the cover story that she was in custody of an aunt. After all, she’s only seventeen, I doubt they’ll think she was capable of doing too much during the war,” Hastings replied.

“I’m sorry about all this…”

“I should thank you, actually,” Hastings interrupted. “I ran the kid through a short test in the flight simulator. She’s got a lot of talent, someone the Defense Force could use.”

“So I guess not much has changed in the last two years. I was hoping that maybe you would finally care about something other than Mars and your little third-rate air force,” Rosaro said bitterly as she signaled for a waitress.

Hastings sighed, “It’s not that I don’t care about her, or you, but the future of Mars is at stake.”

“‘The future of Mars is at stake’, you sound like one of the separatists.”

“I’m all for separation, and so were a lot of others who fought on the Alliance side, but I’m a realist. A few rural ‘militias’ were not going to force the Alliance government to give Mars independence. It’s only when Mars shows it can take care of itself, that it will be able to win it’s freedom…by whatever means necessary. What you call ‘The Martian War’ was just a skirmish, the real war is yet to come.”

“I don’t think Sandra wants to join the Defense Force to fight another war against the Alliance,” Rosaro replied before placing her order. After the waitress was gone, she continued, “the kid has been through a lot, she just wants to fly.”

“I’m not going to post her face all over Ares City,” Hastings bit back angrily. “Her story, with a little editing, will be eaten up by the local press. Most of them are still around from the war and still looking for any excuse to show Earth that Mars isn’t some backwater wasteland.”

“It’s still using her to fuel your agenda,” Rosaro sipped on the beer that the waitress had just brought, wondering why she had come to see Hastings. He hadn’t changed from two years ago when she had broken off their relationship.

“It’s not helping myself, it’s helping all of Mars, that’s what counts,” Hastings huffed. He ran a hand through his short brown hair, shaking his head. “We haven’t seen each other for two years and it’s still the same argument. Look, I’m giving her what she wants, and as an added bonus she might help out her whole planet. What’s wrong with that?”

“You mean, what’s wrong with using a seventeen-year-old girl in your little political scheme?”

Hastings shook his head. “You asked for a favor and I helped you out. Now let’s just drop it.”

“Fine,” Rosaro shot back, taking a long slug from her beer bottle.

“You know I’m glad to see you again. I’ve missed you…”

“Scott, I’m grateful you helped me out, but that’s all that is going to happen,” Rosaro interrupted. “Neither one of us has time for anything more than that.”

“Oh come on, you’ve got at least one night, don’t you?” Hastings asked playfully.

Rosaro took a long looking into Hastings’ eyes, remembering what had brought them together. She and Hastings had met shortly after the Martian War, when she had been part of the Alliance force left behind to police Mars, while Hastings was one of the few native Martians trying to create an independent military force to protect the colony. Rosaro and Hastings had been together two years, on the verge of getting engaged when Rosaro was reassigned to another post. For the first year apart they called and wrote letters, but with less and less frequency until they completely stopped talking to each other. Being in the officer’s club with Hastings, she thought of all that they had done, all that they had meant to each other. Maybe they could be together just once more, what would it hurt? No, she thought, I can’t risk it. Before she could say anything, her comm beeped. Activating it, she saw that Davis was contacting her. “Al, I told you not to disturb me.”

“Sorry, boss, but we’ve just got deployment orders.”

“Deployment orders?”

“The whole company is shipping back to Earth ASAP, no reason given. Better get back here, Manny.”

Rosaro looked at Hastings, who was trying to hide his disappointment. “Fine, I’ll be right there.” She deactivated the comm. then turned her attention back to Hastings. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass on tonight. I’ve got to go.”

Rosaro was about to throw some bills on the table, but Hastings waved her away. “I’ll get it. Just look me up again in another two years.”

“Maybe then we can have that one night,” Rosaro responded. She gave Hastings a brief peck on the cheek. “Thanks for your help, Scott.”

“It’s no problem, Manny, I’m always here for you,” Hastings replied, rubbing where Rosaro’s lips had touched his cheek. Rosaro smiled, then turned on her heel to leave. As she raced back to base she wondered why the deployment orders had been sent. No matter what they were, it had to be better than patrolling the Martian Outback.

***

To almost every other being, the bright blue planet may have looked beautiful, a cosmic gem against the drab black background of space, but to S’Olonny it was another dead end. Standing on the bridge of the mile-long bio-energy collection vessel, S’Olonny felt his anger building. As the ship’s captain, S’Olonny was responsible for overseeing the finding and collection of all bio-energy, but the planet below contained absolutely no bio-energy, nor was any to be found in the entire system.

“I am sorry, Captain, but the sensors show that there are no usable lifeforms here,” a junior officer squeaked.

“Three months ago you told me that the sensor probe had detected life, how can there be nothing now?” S’Olonny roared.

“I don’t know…”

“I will not have such sloppiness in my crew!” S’Olonny interrupted. “Our people are depending on the sustenance our mission returns to them, we cannot afford to waste months chasing phantom signals! You are relieved of duty!” The junior officer looked at his captain, but realizing that an argument was futile, he scuttled away.

“Sir, there is a message from Director S’Tallen. He reports that his experiment has escaped from the laboratory. Should I send security forces to deal with it?” An ensign asked.

“No, I will not waste my soldiers on such nonsense. I will deal with the experiment personally.” The captain stormed off the bridge, taking out his communicator as the doors closed. He keyed it to the proper frequency, and then growled, “S’Tallen, I have told you to control these experiments if you wish for your project to continue.”

“Do not threaten me, S’Olonny, I have the Council’s approval to conduct this experiment. You and your troops are sworn to protect me,” S’Tallen replied icily.

“I am not sworn to protect you from your own blunders!” S’Olonny sighed. “What is the location of this experiment?”

“It is just outside the laboratory, the security fields I created have the creature trapped, but I do not have the ability to dispose of it.”

“Very well, I shall dispose of your experiment,” S’Olonny snarled as the doors opened.

Immediately S’Olonny could see the creature trapped between the laboratory and two adjacent corridors by large grates blocking the path to the corridors. The creature was immense, its bulky exoskeleton taking up nearly the entire width of the passage. It had long, reptilian legs with sharp claws that sparked each time a claw tapped one of the grates blocking off the corridor, its orange reptilian eyes glaring at S’Olonny while drool dripped from the sharp insect-like incisors jutting from its mouth.

Calmly, S’Olonny reached to his right hip, pulling out a gleaming sword made entirely of green crystal. The sword’s blade had characters carved into it, the names of each member of his family who had used the sword for the past fifteen generations. S’Olonny took a few cuts at air to perfect his balance, knowing there would be no second try to kill this beast. Taking the sword in both hands, S’Olonny keyed his communicator. “Open the security fields,” he commanded. Slowly the grates creaked back up into the ceiling.

Before the security fields were even halfway up, the creature lunged at S’Olonny. S’Olonny rolled to his left, plunging the sword into the creature’s head as it passed. He let go of the precious blade, watching S’Tallen’s experiment complete its lunge then fall to the deck, its legs and incisors twitching for several seconds before the creature stopped moving entirely. Calmly, S’Olonny strode over to the beast, plucking his sword from its head. Dark brown blood coated the weapon, but S’Olonny put the weapon back into its sheath. The doors to the laboratory opened as S’Tallen darted out. “Did you kill it?” The scientist asked.

“Yes, it is dead. Do you require its remains for testing?”

“I will need to conduct a brief exam, then it can be taken for collection, although I doubt you will be able to drain much bio-energy from it.”

“That does not matter, any bio-energy we collect is valuable.”

“If you would find more hosts for my experiment there would be no need…”

S’Olonny waved his hand angrily, “Spare me your foolishness! Your experiments have only cost good soldiers their lives, they will never amount to anything!”

“You will see, S’Olonny,” S’Tallen called to the other’s retreating back. “My research is the only thing that can save our people from extinction!”

S’Olonny shook his head as the lift doors closed. Such wasteful, foolish nonsense, but the Grand Council could not afford to discard any possible solution to the problem faced by his people. Yet, if nearly twenty years had yielded almost nothing, what hope was there? S’Olonny’s communicator came to life, a nervous bridge officer on the other end. “Captain…Sensor Probe Z-93 has detected something.”

“Something? What is it? A lifeform?”

“No, sir. It’s a signal. The sensor team is examining the results, but they suggest that it could be some kind of communication device.”

“Have any other probes reported anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Distance to the signal?”

“Thirteen light-years, sir.”

That’s nearly a year of travel, S’Olonny thought glumly. A year for no solid readings. What other choice do I have? He thought. Stay here and wait for other probes, return home with our pathetic results? “Very well, set a course and have the probe observe the target system.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And this had better not be an error, Lieutenant. Do I make myself clear?”

“I understand, sir. I have already had the source of the signal confirmed to verify the location.”

“Excellent, Lieutenant. Inform Commander S’Segar that he is in command until I arrive. I will be in my quarters if you have any further developments.”

“Very well, sir.” The communicator shut off as the doors to the lift opened. S’Olonny walked down the dull gray corridor to his quarters. As he entered the dark room, S’Olonny turned the lights to half-power, then knelt down before an altar made of black wood and studded with green crystals. He took a cloth from the altar, chanting a ritual prayer under his breath as he swept the blood clean from the sword with a special cloth given to him by his father over fifty years ago.

Twenty years had passed since S’Olonny had taken command of the collection vessel, but he still had nothing to show for his work. He continued to chant and clean the sword, but his eyes focused on the image of his family that sat on the altar. He had not seen his family for twenty years, by now they could all be dead while he was out in the void of space chasing down mysterious signals. Someday, I will return to you, S’Olonny thought as he finished with the sword, setting the blade and cloth on top of the altar. I will return with enough bio-energy to last a lifetime, then I will never leave you again. Completing the prayer, S’Olonny got to his feet, heading back for the bridge. Until he could find a source of enough bio-energy he would have to continue chasing after whatever slim hopes availed themselves to him.