Koog’s gloved hands were now wrapped around the securing harness and inching their way to the release mechanism.

  “Don’t do it,” Hauk said as calmly as he could manage. He could see part of the unit’s shielding had blown away, and it wasn’t one of the tanks inside, it was a valve that looked to have been damaged. Hauk felt a tug and realized the tether between them had twisted so tight it was in knots and drawing him and the missile toward the spinning Marine.

  He wasted no more time; he’d done the first two things, now he had to act. Unfortunately, he really only had one play. He jerked down on the tether drawing Koog toward him and simultaneously shoved the missile into his spinning path. The Marine connected with the object with a silent thud. The mass of the bomb was great enough to absorb much of the kid’s momentum, but it quickly began pulling them in the opposite direction. Hauk wasted no time getting a hand inside the maneuvering unit and shutting off the damaged valve. The rush of escaping gas trickled to a stop.

  Hauk wanted to check on Koog but first had his suit’s AI execute a burn to arrest the momentum and get them back on course. The tether dug into his waist belt, but slowly, the accelerating mass of the I-8 Penetrator slowed to a stop and began returning to the two men.

  The Marine was shaken but uninjured; he came around within a few minutes none the worse for wear.

  “Did you black out?”

  “I dunno, I guess so, I saw stars,” Koog said pointing up.

  Hauk shook his head, “You crazy idiot. How much propellant do you have?”

  Koog checked the displays, “Not a lot, about thirty percent of what I did.”

  They untangled the tether and worked on modifying the plan. Hauk preferred the more experienced Marine have the better gear, but since they couldn’t swap units, Hauk would take the lead and do the bulk of the pulling and course corrections.

  “Okay, Jarhead, just sit back and enjoy the ride. Let the good old U.S. Army get the job done, as usual.”

  Several hours later, Koog drifted up close to the other man. “Captain, you good to go?”

  Hauk had been zoning in and out. This was one of the most challenging missions he’d ever undertaken, alternately terrifying followed by hours of monotony. The scenery didn’t seem to change, and he’d never felt more alone despite the other man a few yards away.

  “Yes, sorry, Koog, I was just going over the plan again.”

  Koog knew better but let it go. “Oorah, sir!” The warship signaled a two-degree course change. That should be the last one.

  Hauk turned back toward the Stone Mountain instinctively to verify. They had been drifting farther apart for most of the past day. Now it was just one bright speck of light among many. Using his HUD to zoom in, he could see the position and the light array on the hull to confirm the corporal’s report. They triggered the burn, pulling the Penetrator along between them now.

  “We should get a visual on the target any time now. If we could use radar, it would be easy to get a fix, but the boss lady didn’t want to risk it,” Koog said unnecessarily.

  Hauk was having a hard time understanding how something could just hide in the wide open up here, but then again, they’d been drifting behind a small cluster of space debris for much of this journey.

  “Let’s keep the package close, less chance for the enemy to spot it,” Koog said.

  They did it and then both began scanning the area on multispectral wavelengths for the enemy ship. The suits’ built-in AI handled most of it, but the rapid change of visuals was barely noticeable on the HUDs, except for the electromagnetic wavelengths, which lit up the display like a rainbow. Both men watched the counter working its way toward zero. Bayou and Xero had concurred on the most likely location, but they all knew it was just an educated guess. The counter went from two kilometers down to 784 meters with nothing in range. Then, they both picked up an object on infra-red.

  “It’s too small,” Koog said.

  “Maybe,” Hauk agreed, his voice a whisper.

  The thing appeared to be blacked out; it gave no reflection, and they were emerging into the day side of the planet’s orbit.

  “Suit calculates it is still over a klick out. We are just looking at the leading edge. Visual perception gets weird up here. I’m having the suit do a suggested intercept path to put us right over the back end of the thing. I’ll link it to your suit, so you can do the heavy lifting.”

  Hauk was impressed, the kid was on point. He may have gotten shaken up, but he was solid as they came. He reviewed the course change and had to accept it. He didn’t know shit about fighting in space. It looked to him like he was charging into the path of an incoming fighter jet, but in reality, they were a good thirty degrees off its bow on the starboard side. Just far enough out that the ship’s nav-safety system would auto-adjust course to miss the pile of debris. They just had to time it that they were in the right spot soon after the ship moved by.

  “You recognize it, Koog?”

  “I can’t see enough detail yet, and we’re heading into the sun again, so my shields are blocking a lot of the visible light. Just guessing it’s about the right size for one of the Chinese corvettes.”

  “China?”

  “Well, the right size. They use them for a little bit of everything up here. Ship to ground, ship to ship, even have some configured for light freight haulers.”

  “No one from China should be able to get into an Alliance ship’s computer systems, but since Last Day, who the hell knew who was on any ships up here?”

  Hauk had the suit start recording video and sensor data. It was all programmed to send back to Lieutenant Riggs in a burst transmission should anything go wrong. “Here we go, in three, two, one.”

  The thrusters fired, automatically bringing them up from below and over the sleek, matte-black ship. It had no insignia of any kind, and even Koog seemed confused on where the best place to plant the bomb might be.

  “It’s not Chinese, sir.” Now Koog was whispering too, not that anyone could hear them in the vacuum of space. Still, it seemed right. The ship was about 120 feet long, or about the size of a TriCraft dropship, but much, much thinner. It had short, stubby wings that seemed to meld into the hull very gracefully. This was a space plane likely designed for space or atmo.

  “Engines, cargo doors, landing struts.” Koog had been doing a mental breakdown of the craft as they approached and now seemed convinced he knew where to go. “I have the location mapped in. You just need to activate the warhead.”

  “Once I do that, they’ll know we’re here,” Hauk reminded the younger man.

  “I’ve mapped out all the obvious weapons ports. We’ll jet away in the least dangerous direction.”

  The Army captain was trusting this kid with his life, but what choice did he have?

  “Shouldn’t we at least, you know, knock on the door, say hello… something, before we try to blow them up?” Koog asked.

  “It’s called orders, kid. As our leader said, the engagement rules are simple now. They die first!”

  Hauk finished the activation sequence and sent the command. The I-8 arming lights flashed green, then red, and its internal guidance kicked on and began searching for the coordinates Koog had marked. The two of them hit the thrusters at top speed hoping to put as much distance as possible between them and the weird little ship.

  While still moving away, both turned and looked at the large Penetrator bomb settle onto the surface, and instantly, a bright light erupted beneath as it fired its slug of molten copper into the back of the doomed ship. Within seconds, the entire craft exploded outward like a scene out of a movie. Their suits were little cover for the mass of debris heading their way. They needed to outrun it, which was unlikely, or find something solid to put between them.

  They found something solid. Another ship.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Alarms blared; lighting over the tactical station went red.

  “Bogey-1 is destroyed, but…” the pause that followed was excruciating. “It’s another ship,” the tactical officer said.

  Bayou tapped comms. “Xero, are they out of the system?”

  “Affirmative!” she said from her workstation several decks below.

  “Weps! All ship-to-ship weapons online, get me a firing solution. Maneuvering thrusters, present as small a profile as possible,” Bayou yelled, unsure of half the things she was ordering. Like Hauk, this was not her battlespace. “Comms, any word from our people?”

  “Radio dark, ma’am, but I am getting positive telemetry on both. Position is identical to enemy vessel,” the young Marine manning the station yelled out.

  “Firing solution plotted, ship-killers locked and loaded.”

  How in the hell had they missed the larger ship? Someone missed something, and now they were going to pay the price for her ‘They Die First’ mandate.

  “She’s targeting our engines. Incoming point-to-point lasers.”

  Bayou had to trust Otero that the shielding back there was adequate. “Launch missiles two and four, indirect intercept.”

  She didn’t know much about space combat, but after years of being on the orbital platforms she’d overheard enough to know in space battles you dealt with time as well as distance. You had to fire where you thought the enemy would be, not where they were.

  “Missile lock is not holding, ma’am, we are getting an IFF transponder from the enemy ship,” the weapons officer signaled.

  “This is the same ship that is firing on us? Damn sure not friendly forces.”

  “I can override the armaments code to ignore that, ma’am, on your authority.”

  “Do it,” Bayou yelled to the young specialist.

  “We’re being hailed, ma’am.”

  Riggs looked at her young comms officer incredulously. “They want to talk?”

  “Yes, but only to you,” the girl said, her face a mask of fear.

  “Weps. Get those missiles on target. Don’t wait for my signal. Drive those bastards home.” She also radioed down to the flight deck for Packer to get into his dropship. “We may need a pickup, or at the very least, have another pair of eyes out there.” There was no longer any reason to stay quiet or hidden.

  She motioned for comms to transfer the call to the ready room. Riggs moved in behind the display and accepted the call.

  “Hello, Bayou. We need to talk.”

  “Holy fuck!” Bayou stared at the screen in utter disbelief.

  The smiling face of a ghost stared back.

  CHAPTER

  FIFTY-FIVE

  MAINE

  “Wake-up, sparkle-farts, there’s dragons to slay.”

  Coming fully awake to the sounds of my father’s colorful descriptors was becoming a normal part of life, since neither Ada nor I had any luck so far in finding the off switch for whatever comms link he was using. I had no option but to take the fucking call. Today, it was at zero ass o’clock in the morning.

  I very reluctantly crawled out of the wonderful bed and gingerly hobbled out into the hall and down to a large window where Sumo was curled up. Moonlight cast the well-manicured grounds into a scene from a fairy tale. In the distance, I could still see the Decimator Warbot, I hadn’t thought to ask Dami if it was still active. I couldn’t see how she would have gotten by it if it was.

  “What’s up, Pop?”

  “Well, whistle-britches, while you’ve been taking a weekend of lovemaking and lobster rolls, the world has gone further into the toilet.”

  “What now?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  “Some group in northern France is now suggesting all survivors unite to overthrow whatever is left of the world governments. They are advocating anarchy, no politicians, no police, and no military. You guys are getting crucified in absentia. “

  “B.F.D., Dad. That’s nothing new, and hell, we probably did do it, or at least failed to prevent it.”

  “It is a big fucking deal, kid. No way this is a major hot button issue right now, someone else is fanning the flames.”

  “Who?” I asked. “Shit, no one likes politicians especially. They’re mostly just lawyers who were too lazy to go to work in their own offices.”

  “Moral decay isn’t something you go to your dentist to fix. Nor is it worth the wholesale eradication of the species.”

  “So, who’s pulling the strings? Carlson?”

  “I keep telling you Carlson is a fucking pip-squeak, a paper-pusher. Besides, haven’t you killed him yet?”

  I really hated admitting that I hadn’t, or that I’d nearly been killed by his fucking butler. “Not yet,” I admitted.

  “Well, shit, Son, maybe you should have sold Tupperware for a living. I thought you were a goddamn soldier.”

  I tried to find words, then just gave up. It was too early, and my legs were burning where the healing gel was still doing its magic. “Pops, what can you tell me about the Sisters of Light?” I asked, changing the subject to something I really wanted to know.

  “Never heard of ‘em,” he answered just a little too quickly. “Oh yeah, Indie rock. Think I saw them play at a little club down in Charleston.”

  “Dad, stop fucking around.”

  “Hell of a drummer and the lead singer… damn.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me?” I asked. The man stayed silent an unusually long time, especially for him.

  “Lumia,” he said finally. “They call her The Grand Mother.”

  “What can you tell me about her? Or them?”

  “Honestly, Son, not much. Supposedly roots of the organization go back hundreds, maybe even thousands of years. No one in government seemed to ever be clear if they actually existed, and if so, what side they might be fighting on.”

  “But you know Lumia?”

  Again, the delay before answering “Yes, we had dealings. Let’s just say the Sisterhood leaves a mark on your soul. Even now, I don’t want to betray the promise I made to her.”

  Goddamn, my father was scared. Shit—that scared me. Because in all my thirty-seven years, I’d never once seen the man afraid of anything. This man would fight Satan himself just to prove he got the winning letter first in Bingo.

  “Can they be trusted?” I asked, already afraid of the answer.

  “No… well, maybe. My personal belief is Lumia was the most loyal person I have ever dealt with, but I know they will lie, cheat, steal, or kill to get what they want. They have no moral nor geographic boundaries, Joe. I put our full intelligence gathering apparatus to work on finding out more, and in three years, not only did I find not a single other associate of the woman, but I also couldn’t even verify that she existed.”

  “She didn’t care that you went after her like that?”

  “Hell, Son, she suggested it. She wanted me to know they were invisible… bulletproof, whatever you want to call it. We couldn’t touch her.”

  “Carlson’s man said that the Sisters nearly stopped the Last Day attack, something he called Liberty Strike.”

  “Then that may mean that we are on the same side in this fight. Still, I’d advise you to avoid them. Stay in your lane if you know what’s good for you. They will smile to your face, then shoot you in the back if it serves their purpose.”

  Or stomach, I thought.

  Voss was up slipping into her gear when I returned. “Pleasant talk with Dad?”

  I smiled, there was no point in trying to keep anything from the woman. “Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  She leaned in and kissed me. “It’s okay, I’m a light sleeper.”

  She slipped on her boots, an everyday activity for her that suddenly felt like an act of seduction.

  “So, how are you doing, back in the game?”

  “Huh? Oh, yes. Not full speed, and my legs itch like crazy, but Ada says my mobility is around seventy-eight percent and climbing. Fighting capabilities, a bit less.”

  “We need to go, staying here is fun and all but isn’t helping us catch up with Carlson.”

  “You have a plan?” I asked. Because I had nothing to say about where to go next.

  She did, and we spent the next several hours going through every data file in the house including the printed files in the man’s office. I mean, who prints anything anymore? After hours of fruitless searching, I gave up and headed to the kitchen. Food and beer sounded great.

  Voss joined me a short time later, and I pushed a plate of pasta with cream sauce and diver scallops toward her. She dug in and smiled.

  “You cook, too?”

  I shrugged. “I can, but this was in the prep center just waiting to be warmed up. I just had to sear the scallops. I’m assuming Acevedo hadn’t planned on missing dinner.”

  “Does tracking him help? He’s injured and should be close and easier to find.”

  I’d already considered that, but the man was dangerous, even more so injured. He also wanted Damiana, and I had a hard time thinking about using her as bait. “I don’t think so, I don’t think his boss confides much in him. That man is a fight we don’t need right now.” Though, I felt sure I would see him again.

  “What’s the story on that?” I pointed with my fork toward the stationary object a few hundred yards away.

  “The Decimator?” she asked. “It went dormant not long after you were taken. We didn’t have to fight it, thankfully. I don’t know why he didn’t put it in sentry mode, it just seemed to go into standby.”

  That triggered something, Acevedo had mentioned telepresence when he talked about taking out the women in Paris. “Do you know if those things can be operated remotely? Maybe via a VR hookup?”

  “Telepresence?” she asked. “Yeah, I am sure it would have to be on a totally immersive rig. Too much to control to try to do it from a standard workstation.”

  “Right,” I said, thinking out loud. Finally, my million-dollar brain seemed to be earning its keep. “He mentioned handling the strike in Paris using telepresence. I didn’t think about him not being in the Warbot because I saw his face in the view port. I just assumed he’d been piloting it from inside.”