“Shut up,” I said without anger.

  I was watching what we could see of the hull outside. “Natasha, send out your buzzers.”

  “Already done,” she said, and she relayed her data stream.

  I watched, but I didn’t see much. A dozen or so drone bugs were crawling over the skin of the ship. They couldn’t fly—at least not easily, as they had wings and there wasn’t any air out there. What little propellant they carried would be wasted fast if I had them use it.

  “Send one high,” I ordered.

  She did, and I watched as it did a slow panning spin.

  The scene outside was mostly dark. A few areas were catching the dim sunlight of the brown dwarf, which really looked more like a reddish coal in a dying fire. The planet reflected some light up too, as it was “day” down there and the cloud cover was bouncing a few rays up to us.

  For a few seconds, I didn’t see anything other than the usual external clusters of nozzles, vents, hatches and the like.

  Then, during the buzzer’s second slow, panning spin, I caught sight of movement. The motion vanished a second later, and the equipment-festooned surface appeared empty again.

  “Freeze that image, right there,” I ordered Natasha.

  She did so deftly. Then she enhanced the few frames we’d caught and redistributed her new version.

  “Is that some kind of flat-worm?” Harris said in disgust.

  “No…” I said, thinking about where I’d seen these things before. “No… they’re Vulbites. They must be cloaked.”

  Back on Blood World, I’d met several species in combat that were new to me. Among them were Vulbites. Big insectile creatures, they were centipedes the size of tigers.

  “I remember those sneaky pricks,” Harris said. “That’s why we can’t see them. They’re probably cloaked, crawling all over the hull, waiting for us to come out to play.”

  “Right…” I said, thinking hard.

  “What are we going to do?” Carlos asked me. He’d drifted up from somewhere in the back. “They’ll get in close and drop a charge in here soon. They know we’re here.”

  He had a point. We’d expelled a lot of gas and fed Cooper to them. They had to be closing in.

  “Wait,” I said, watching the buzzer feed closely. “Don’t attack until my signal, then the lights will spring up with the heavy troopers right behind them.”

  We waited a full minute. Natasha’s buzzer still spun, and I watched for signs—but I saw nothing.

  “McGill?” Graves voice was in my ear.

  I cursed quietly and opened a channel. I kept my eyes glued to the buzzer’s feed.

  “Yessir!” I reported back to Graves.

  “What’s the goddamned hold up? I can see you’ve reached the outer hull. Only two others have made it that far—and you’re just squatting in cover.”

  I angled my tapper to give Graves a good view of Cooper’s corpse. It was slowly bouncing along the bottom of the chamber.

  “We’ve made contact, sir.”

  “You’re orders are to defend that region. Don’t let them into this complex, McGill.”

  “I’m on it, sir.”

  Graves grunted unhappily, but he stopped short of ordering me to attack immediately. I’d hoped he’d give me some leeway. In Legion Varus, the general rule in such engagements was to give the commander in the field the right to follow his orders with whatever edits he felt were necessary. If the higher-ups didn’t like how a commander handled things, they could relieve him of command and find someone better.

  Graves finally disconnected with a growl. It was a relief, really. It was hard to pay attention to him and watch the buzzer feed like a hawk at the same time.

  One more minute passed before things broke. By then, the enemy force had to be close at hand. They could move stealthed, but if they attacked us they would be visible—at least briefly.

  Back on Blood World, they’d engaged us with large swords. But here in space, that wasn’t really feasible. You couldn’t get leverage for a powerful strike without some decent gravity.

  At last, I saw what I was looking for.

  It wasn’t a Vulbite. No glint of a sword or a shimmer of moving feet gave them away.

  What happened instead was another unit—probably the fifth, which according to my tactical maps had reached their contact point—decided to deploy in a rush.

  A large team of lights went out first, taking the lead. There were at least thirty of them, and I envied their commander for having a full strength unit. They bubbled out of a hatch about a hundred meters away and spread out, advancing.

  I thought about warning them, but it was too late. Maybe they knew what we were up against, anyway, as I’d shared my buzzer feed with the whole cohort.

  Thirty seconds after they made their move, the Vulbites answered it. The invaders shed their cloaks and opened fire in unison.

  The light troops, taken by surprise, were hammered with bolts of plasma. The bolts were visible when they struck metal, which was everywhere. Light troopers exploded, firing puffs of pink steam out of their backs, which immediately froze into vaporous ice crystals.

  “Now!” I roared. “Lights up, engage immediately, full-auto!”

  The other unit that had been surprised had hunkered down and begun to return fire, but they weren’t having much luck. The Vulbites outnumbered them, had the drop on them, and possessed superior weapons and training. A few Vulbites pitched into space, flailing—but not many.

  My own lights advanced with speed. I had to give them that—they had heart. The poor kids had to be terrified, but they were still game.

  Telling green troops to unload with a snap-rifle always ended with the same spectacular results. The Vulbite line was caught from the flank, having turned away from our lifeless hole to face the enemy at hand.

  Several were shot to pieces—then my heavy troopers crawled up out of our hole.

  I followed them with Sargon, my officers, and the armored troops bringing up the rear.

  We fell on the Vulbites, and they tried to escape. Some wrapped themselves back up in their silvery, net-like stealth cloaks. Others got down low, legs churning, and scuttled for cover.

  But it didn’t do them much good. We shot the ones that had cloaked by spraying the area with fire. It was hard to cover oneself in a mesh blanket while under a hail of incoming bullets. Really, we were spraying for all we were worth.

  A few of them might have managed to float or sneak away—but not many. We killed most of them by advancing from two sides, my unit and the other across from me, cleansing the hull of the enemy.

  After the battle was over, a stocky centurion walked over to greet me. He was a man named Manfred, and I liked him. We clasped gauntlets briefly.

  “Adjunct McGill?” he asked. “Where’s Winslade?”

  “Died in the drop, sir.”

  Manfred laughed. “I’m not surprised. That walking puke-bag has been in the service nearly thirty years, and he still splats on combat jumps. They should never have given your unit to that loser.”

  “Um… thank you, sir.”

  He looked at me. “Don’t sir me. You earned centurion once, and you’ll earn it again.”

  “Thanks… Centurion.”

  I caught a flash of a smile through his faceplate. “We’re proceeding to point,” he told me. “You report this action to Graves. Go ahead and leave my name out of it.”

  Manfred swaggered away, and I smiled after him. He was the opposite of some officers. Far from being a glory-hound, he liked to see credit bestowed where it was due.

  Taking his suggestion, I reported directly to Graves.

  “Good deal,” Graves said. “Yes… I can see you’re finally at your way-point. Vulbites, you say? All our reports have been confirmed. Makes sense anyway—but not in a good way. The Rigellians must know about this facility, and apparently, they beat us out here.”

  “I agree, sir,” I said. “I would guess the Vulbite troops are fighting for the Rigellians, and they’ve already taken over this planet. The Vulbites are probably their local garrison.”

  “Right… That’s got to go up to Turov. We’ll call in reinforcements. Hopefully, ours will get here before theirs can.”

  “Reinforcements, sir? The legion is already deployed.”

  “That was a misstatement, McGill. Forget you heard that.”

  “Heard what, sir? My helmet is buzzing.”

  “Good. Graves out.”

  For several minutes we spread out over the hull, but I didn’t put all my troops out there on the exposed surface. Over half went back down into the chamber below. After all, we didn’t know what the enemy might throw at us next.

  I wondered briefly about what reinforcements Graves had been talking about—but not too much. I’d find out soon enough.

  -20-

  For nearly a half hour, we remained at our post, uneasy but unmolested.

  “They can’t have given up so easily,” Harris said for about the fifteenth time.

  I glanced at him as I put my back against a large flange of twisted metal that resembled a blown-up water tower.

  “I doubt they have—but who knows? We’ve got ten thousand troops, they’ve got an entire planet. They might have more assault shuttles, or they might not. We’ll see.”

  “A worldwide garrison has to be bigger than our legion,” Harris fretted, staring down at the dark planet below. “I hate this place already,” he said with feeling.

  “When have you ever liked a planet we’ve invaded?”

  “I liked Death World, kind of. Until those massive plants started eating us for snacks.”

  We laughed, sharing an old memory.

  Just then, I thought I saw a flicker. I snatched up my rifle, figuring the Vulbites might be back. They could move in stealth with their odd technology. We’d tried to duplicate it on Earth, but we’d failed thus far.

  Looking this way and that, I didn’t see anything, but I remained tense.

  “Harris? Did you see that? Looked like a flash of light.”

  Harris didn’t answer. He was in an odd pose, languishing on his back. I heard a bubbling sound on my com box.

  Then, tuning into unit-wide chat, I heard several similar examples. Low moans, the sounds of labored breathing and great pain.

  “We’ve been hit hard!” I shouted. “If you’re able, retreat into the hatch!”

  A few troops dove for the yawning hole. One heavy trooper lumbered by, his magnetic boots sticking with every clumsy step.

  But before he could dive to safety, the sky lit up again. It was like the flicker of lightning—distant, silent lightning.

  The heavy trooper began to smoke. His back had been seared, melting his suit and his air hoses. Vapor exploded under pressure, and he began to flip and convulse like a grand-daddy bass in the bottom of a fisherman’s boat.

  I grabbed him, pulling his vast bulk after me. If I hadn’t been in a nearly weightless environment, I never could have managed it.

  Hauling my heavy trooper behind me, I joined dozens of others as we dove down into the darkness.

  “Close the hatch!” I ordered when everyone who wasn’t registering as dead on my HUD was inside.

  The hatch closed and the air began to cycle back into the chamber, re-pressurizing it.

  “What the hell was that?” Carlos panted, popping open his face plate. Plumes of mist flowed from his face with every word.

  He began working on the man I’d brought in immediately—Carlos was our unit bio.

  “Probably some kind of long-range antipersonnel beam,” I said. “It got Harris.”

  “What are your orders, Adjunct McGill?” Silt asked me.

  The heavy troopers were sulking. They looked at the man I’d dragged behind me. He was one of their brothers, I realized.

  I nodded to Carlos. “See if you can keep him alive.”

  “Wouldn’t it be just as well to finish him?” Silt asked.

  The heavy troopers were watching this interaction, and they gathered around to stare at Carlos as he worked on their fallen comrade.

  “You know them best,” I said. “You can make that call, Silt. Snuff him out if you think you should.”

  I stood up and backed away, making a welcoming gesture to the Cephalopod. Silt ruffled a bit, a clear sign of irritation.

  Was the squid trying to get me to upset the heavy troopers? I wasn’t sure. These guys all thought like aliens from my perspective. It was hard to decipher what was what with any of them.

  But I was certain that watching me kill one of their men wouldn’t be a good thing for morale, so I passed on the suggestion.

  Silt passed as well. He glided away to check on other things.

  Carlos watched him go.

  I gave him a quick hand-gesture, meaning what’s the deal? We’d started doing that more often lately, as the heavy troopers came from a very different culture, and they never understood these subtle communications.

  Carlos lifted one hand, thumb out. He began to turn it downward, but then reversed it and gave me a thumbs-up. The heavy trooper was going to live.

  “He’s tougher than a regular human,” Carlos said. “I sprayed him down with nu-skin like it was going out of style, and the wounds have sealed. I think either of us would have gone into shock and required critical care.”

  While he spoke, the heavy trooper rustled. Slowly, he got to his knees, and then to his feet. He wobbled a bit.

  I thought about reaching out to steady him, but I stopped myself. His own brothers weren’t touching him. Maybe by their rules that would dishonor him, or prove he was still weak.

  So I didn’t touch him, and when Carlos reached for his massive elbow I yanked him back.

  “Let the man stand on his own two feet! You see that? He’s okay! He’s good to fight!”

  I started slamming my gauntlets together, clapping loudly. These littermates knew enough of our strange ways to understand it was a compliment. They soon joined in, clumsily beating their catcher-mitt-sized hands together.

  For the first time, the faces of the heavy troopers lit up. I could tell they were relieved. I wouldn’t say they were happy, exactly. I wouldn’t even say they smiled, because they didn’t. But for them, it was like a standing ovation.

  The injured man limped away and found some food and drink. He sat painfully and consumed it. His eyes were glassy, but he wasn’t passing out.

  “Good enough!” I said. “We won the day!”

  All of my troops looked at me in surprise at these words. I was pretty sure they all figured we’d gotten our asses whooped—but that isn’t how I read things.

  “Look,” I said. “We took this station, they counterattacked, but we held. That’s called winning. Sure, we got our noses slapped a little, but that’s to be expected. This is a war, after all.”

  There was some ragged cheering. I could tell they didn’t feel like winners. I walked around handing out praise and sounding cheerful. The stack of half-roasted corpses we’d dragged down from the exterior hull—those who hadn’t survived—I studiously ignored.

  Carlos came near after a few minutes, and he grinned at me.

  “Noses slapped?” he asked. “It’s more like we’re still trying to pull Vulbite boots out of our collective butt-cracks.”

  “Hush!” I told him. “These troops are green. They need a little morale-building.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell them not to worry, that they’d catch a revive if they died?”

  “Because recruits never respond well to that kind of line. Hell, no one does. People don’t like dying.”

  “So I noticed.”

  He walked off then, and I looked for Natasha. Sadly, I soon figured out she was among the dead.

  Several hours passed, and I got word that reinforcements were trickling back to our front lines from Nostrum. The first evidence of this came dramatically about six hours after we’d initially set boots down on this frigging space-factory.

  “McGill!” a familiar voice boomed.

  I lurched and snorted awake. I’d nodded off while leaning back against a wall.

  “Primus Graves?” I asked, looking around and sniffing.

  Climbing to my feet, I noticed he had a small army behind him. The most significant of these included a party of nine fresh littermates. They were heavy troopers, outfitted and ready to go.

  Only, I could tell right away they weren’t ready for action. I hadn’t trained them for a month aboard Nostrum—no one had.

  “Harris, Winslade, Leeson,” Graves said, “they’re all coming out of the revival queue soon. They’ll move here to reinforce your position.”

  “Okay…” I said, and I wanted to ask about the littermates who were missing their brothers—but I didn’t dare. Instead, I dodged. “How’d you get down here so fast? And what’s this team of noobs for?”

  Graves cinched up his brow. “They’re your reinforcements. Put them in Harris’ team and crunch down your existing heavy troops into one group.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the Blood Worlders. They were listening without comment, as usual.

  “Uh…” I said. “I don’t know about that, sir. I’ve got five from one group, and six from another. That’s eleven who don’t know each other, plus these nine.”

  “So what?” Graves asked. “We’ll sort them all out when this campaign is over. Tell them that, and line them up.”

  The new guys behind Graves were looking stern, but bewildered. I got the feeling they were fresh off the training fields, either from Earth’s camp up in Nova Scotia or from Blood World itself.

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” I said, “but I suspect these men haven’t been trained in the ways of Legion Varus yet.”

  “That’s where you come in. Stop complaining. We set up a pipeline from Earth to Nostrum, and now we’ve got a gateway down from the ship to this station.”

  “I get that, sir, but—”

  “Listen, McGill,” Graves said, taking a step closer and lowering his voice. “Am I going to get grief from you? I don’t need any of that. Not today—not any day.”

  Sighing, I nodded. “Got it, sir. Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll make do.”