A nervous chuckle circled the room.

  “Can we check on our folks?” one of Hauk’s men asked.

  I shook my head no.

  “What about food and provisions, we don’t have enough for a large group,” another chimed in.

  I hadn’t really considered all the other lives on this boat. Every one of them had a story, family, love, and losses.

  “What about my combat pay?” Halo asked, walking up and sitting beside me holding up one of his token rings. “My crypto account balance hasn’t changed in months.”

  Even I smiled at that one. “I’ll admit, we’ve had a bit too much going on to take everything into consideration. And no, we won’t be able to now either… not all at once, but we can do better. As for checking on family, we can’t go down, but let me go ahead and break it to you. If they are in the red zones, they are most likely gone. There’s no surviving out in the wastes. As for your back pay, yeah, its waiting for you in hard currency, but you have to go to the banks in person to make a withdrawal.”

  More chuckles echoed around the room.

  “We’re going to try and concentrate efforts on the green zones, and we keep looking for areas down there we could use as a settlement because long-term up here isn’t a workable option. These ships are designed for regular servicing and every five years a major retrofit. Space is not an easy environment to work in as most of you SEs know first-hand.

  The hatch opened, and I was pleasantly surprised to see Sergeant Dae Him-Chan enter. G-Force looked pale but moved surprisingly well.

  “Now, here is the other hero of the hour,” I said, grateful for the interruption. “Gi and Koog took down that Furie, and I propose a toast, assuming we have something on this bucket other than water. Where is that procurement officer?”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTY-NINE

  Turned out, we had plenty of beer and nearly every other kind of alcohol you could think of. Apparently, the Space Fleet brass like the good stuff. Not like Pappy Van Winkles good, but plenty of Blantons 2055, which was very, very drinkable. We drank too much and had no right throwing a party like that, but I knew we needed to try to solidify as a unit. With all the external forces weighing in on us, and the internal struggles of cramming members from different branches altogether, plus Karen, a.k.a. Chelsea…well, we were ripe for a breakout, and I simply didn’t have time to deal with a fucking mutiny. Plus, Bayou would never let me live it down if I lost her ship my first day back in command.

  Still, I had work to do, and I’d already found that my body apparently metabolized alcohol nearly as fast as I drank it now. There was simply no way to get hammered anymore… that absolutely sucked balls.

  “Corporal Koog, a word.”

  The mountainous slab of a man looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. The beer he held was still half full, and I didn’t think he’d gotten more than one.

  “Sir?”

  “You did damn fine work today, kid. Down on E-deck and out there in the vac.” I’d heard the space engineers call the hard vacuum of space ‘the vac,’ and I just wanted to sound like one of the cool kids.

  I could see him relax slightly, his shoulders no longer as rigid as iron. He’d been bracing for an ass chewing, and I would get to that but likely not for the reason he thought.

  “I want to know exactly what happened out there after you set off the Penetrator.”

  “Umm, it’s in my report, sir. Lieutenant Riggs signed off on it. Suit recording and everything.”

  “Yeah, I know. I want what’s not in the report, and before you answer, let me remind you that fucking a civilian is your business, but revealing information I told you to keep quiet has put you and me on opposite sides of this fight for now. You copy me?”

  He paled, and I knew I’d pushed the right lever.

  “I didn’t mean to say… she… Chelsea just…”

  “Not the question I asked, Marine.” I’d moved the kid to a small room off the mess hall, probably the galley manager’s office. I was sitting on a metal desk mounted to the wall. He sat on a seat that was much too low for his frame. The overall effect made the giant of a man look small.

  He hung his head. “I’m under orders.”

  I leaned over and tapped his skull, “Check the COC, chain of command. I am above Bayou. If she were able, she would be answering these questions. For expediency, you report to me now. We will not be having this discussion more than once, though—am I making myself clear?”

  He nodded.

  “Speak up, Koog.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!”

  He fidgeted several more minutes before speaking.

  “A second ship,” he said finally.

  “Excuse me, Corporal?”

  “Yeah, a larger ship, looked Alliance but matte black , it had no markings.”

  My head was swimming, the data wasn’t making sense.

  “Tell me more.”

  He did. He told me how he and Hauk had taken refuge by the ship, and then a brief firefight broke out between it and the Stone Mountain. The firing stopped, both ships backed off, and Packer came in with the TriCraft for a pickup.

  “You don’t know who it was?” I asked, still confused.

  “No, sir, I guessed the original frame was frigate class, but it had some newer modifications on it. More like a luxury space yacht than a military ship.”

  “But it had weapons. What kind?”

  “Point defense lasers and at least one missile battery. We could see the racks as the bay doors opened.”

  “They knew you were there?”

  Koog shrugged, “I don’t know, hard to imagine they didn’t, we’d just blown up their drone.”

  Drone, the ghost ship that had been screwing with our systems had been unoccupied. “You sure it was theirs?”

  “No, sir, I am not. But that seemed likely since they were only a few dozen kilometers away at most when the spy ship cooked off. I mean, they were there instantly.”

  “Who is your current CO?”

  “You are, sir.”

  I laughed. Well, at least someone was listening to my little speech. “I mean before.”

  “Oh, Major Whitehorse. He didn’t make it off the ship. I think he was with the command staff in the war room when the ship broke up.”

  “Koog, I like you, you’re smart and capable but perhaps a bit too quick to act. I put you in as a probational add to Banshee. Team-1 is down a man with Gi on limited duty. But I have to level with you. I am really not convinced you are SpecOp material.”

  It was a harsh thing to say, but having studied the kid’s service record, there was clearly a reason he’d not made it onto any of the MARSOC teams. Then, some genius had stuck him up here on a damn patrol boat.

  “Yes, sir.”

  The man's expression told the story, he wanted this, and I was pulling it back out of his reach just when he thought he had a chance. He’d gone through MARSOC training, Marine Special Operations, as well as ASOW, Alliance Special Operations and Warfare training. Maybe not quite to the level of RDTs but damn close, and in some respects, he was likely even more qualified.

  “You need to know why, Son. Why I am uncertain about you being part of my team. It is not your capabilities. It comes down to judgement and loyalties. Despite what I said out there, Banshee is who I am most loyal to, more than family, more than the fleet. Every member of Banshee feels the same way. If what you told that girl goes any farther, they will never accept you. Never! Do you copy that, Corporal?”

  He nodded then added, “Yes, sir.”

  “Koog,” my tone noticeably softening. “Look, Thunder-Junk, fuck who you want, it’s not like we have that many options anymore. My… fatherly advice, though, is that girl is dangerous. You weren’t there when we took her in. She’s got some issues.”

  “Like what?” he asked, genuinely curious.

  I thought about that night, about the fact that she seemed to be a mom but had no children. About how she was nearly delirious talking about the witch. I shook my head. “Not my place to say. Just be careful and think through your actions.”

  He was clearly expecting to get his balls busted, and instead, I gave him advice his father should have. As we went back to the party, I could see it had the desired effect. Now, I had to see if the rest of the team would accept him. One thing I was sure of was the farther we could keep him away from Karen, the better.

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTY

  “Where… where is that boy?”

  “Captain Orric, the old man is looking for you.”

  Orric gave a grim smile. “Yes, Ensign, I heard his bellow.”

  “Admiral Reese,” he said moments later. The great hall at Luna wasn’t actually a hall, nor was it all that great. The admiral could have easily seen him if he even remembered who he was. Captain Valyn Orric was the last in a long line of aides to the Fleet admiral. Unfortunately for him, Valyn had been the one assigned the day everything went to shit.

  “Yes… umm.” The admiral seemed unsure of why he’d summoned him, but that was nothing new. He liked giving orders and having his thoughts transcribed into memos. Letters and notes that he wished to send to anyone who might have momentarily forgotten how far George Reese had risen in the ranks of the Space Force. One aide reportedly transcribed a letter from the admiral to a Mister George Jetson. The individual turned out to be a cartoon character that was old even when the admiral was a child. A framed photo of the cartoon now hung in the officers’ ready room as an inside joke.

  “The ship, is it still refusing to answer our hails?”

  And just like that, the old man was back. His mind on point with that laser focus, which must have been the one positive attribute that had pushed his career forward.

  “No longer responding, sir.”

  “And our emissary, did he… did it deliver the package?”

  “Yes, sir, it did and then returned here, but they destroyed the stealth ship in the encounter.” Valyn responded to the inquiry respectfully despite his misgivings about that mission. The admiral was now openly proclaiming himself War Commander. Hell, he might just be the highest-ranking flag officer left, but that was not a good enough reason to pretend to take charge of everything. This narcissistic fool was going to endanger even more lives—of that, Valyn was sure.

  He ran through the rest of the update, and the admiral delivered his new edicts. Most of which were completely irrelevant or simply impossible to complete, such as ordering one of the new Echo Class long range cruisers from the Earth-side shipyard.

  The captain walked away mentally shaking his head. He was not one to show disrespect in public. That he left to his oldest friend, Xero. He flashed back to where they’d first met. An underground code-slashers rave in East London. Xero was maybe twelve and living mostly in the public works buildings better known as the ‘Brixx.’

  He was a year younger and had it even worse. At that moment, his bed was in a broken-down caravan sitting beside a particularly rancid stretch of the river Thames. That was years after Gulf War Three. Like Xero, he’d been orphaned by the war. The difference was, his family was on the losing side; hers was part of the Alliance. Funny how none of that mattered then… or now. They’d connected first over computer coding and later over many things, including just surviving their childhood. Both developed a shared belief in doing whatever it took to find the truth or help make changes.

  Captain Valyn Orric returned to his duty station monitoring the massive ship still in orbit around Earth. What he had been ordered to do next bothered him greatly. He’d never disobeyed an order, not even those he’d had reason to question, but the hubris of this action couldn’t be ignored. The garrison here at Luna had no need for a Monolith class carrier. Everyone now knew the enemy was not the same one we’d been waging war on for decades. No… now it was the planet itself that was quickly turning against its parasitic human occupants.

  Somewhere down there was Xero, probably holed up in a bunker trying to think her way out like she always did. This puzzle might be bigger than even she could conquer, though. Quickly selecting the view he wanted from the system, he then brought up the rendering. The data analyst and base AI created the constantly updating global map using all incoming sensor data. The green zones had decreased another 2.8% in the last week. They had dropped below the 50% mark the prior month. The infestation was taking over our home world, not like a cancer slowly metastasizing on an unwary victim, but fast, like a knife attack on a foe that once had been mighty. It was vicious, ruthless, and the end… inevitable. Earth was gone. Nothing left but to clean up the mess. “I’m sorry, Xero.”

  He punched in the long series of letters and symbols that were the ultra-secure encryption keys, then sent the message. “Proceed to rendezvous point Echo. Backstop is a go.”

  Sitting back, he placed both hands in his lap and did something he hadn’t done since childhood. He prayed he was making the right choice. He thought the right choice would offer peace. What he’d just done offered none and somehow he knew he would need have to take more direct action.

  “God help us all…”

  High overhead, the message was received and decoded, then passed along to the man sitting casually on the edge of the console.

  The guy had balls, had to give him that.

  “There should have been a file packet attached.”

  “Sending it to you now, sir,” the communications officer said.

  The man rubbed at his arm absently as he read.

  “Make way, best speed to these coordinates,” the ship’s commander said to the helmsman. “Prepare for anything—this one is going to be interesting.”

  CHAPTER

  SEVENTY-ONE

  “Captain?”

  I’m sure that I appeared to be resting, my head leaning against the wall, eyes closed. In truth, it was anything but that. The man’s voice stirred me from my focus on trying to fit all of the players and pieces together in some sensible context. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have cared. My job was a trigger-puller, a killer. But now, my mind wouldn’t let me rest.

  “How’s she doing, Captain?” I asked, opening my eyes and straightening up in my chair.

  Jordan Hauk looked bone tired, his face seemed etched out of pure stone.

  “Deb is…” He seemed hesitant to say, maybe jinxing her recovery by voicing the words. “She is much better. Your Doctor Voss worked wonders.” He gave a grim smile and nodded; I motioned for him to sit.

  “So, she’s going to be okay?”

  I caught the man’s look of uncertainty before he hid it. “Still chance for… you know, infection or…”

  I knew what Hauk was talking about. A pathogen or transfer from the creature to its victim. Something toxic or maybe even worse. It seemed all these mutants had layered defense systems, which apparently multiplied if said mutant creature happened to be pregnant.

  “She’ll be okay, Jordan.”

  “May I?” he said pointing to an open bottle on the table.

  I pushed the whisky and an empty tumbler toward him.

  After several doublings of the amber liquid, he said what he came to say. “So, the AutoDocs have her in a forced coma for now. Doctor Voss seems to think that may take a few weeks for her to come out of. It’s really up to her body how long it takes.”

  “She’s strong, she’ll be out sooner. But something is on your mind, and I have a feeling I know what it is,” I said.

  “Yes, thanks again, Joe, for telling me about Logan.”

  “You want to go get him?”

  He nodded. “I know it’s selfish and foolish, but he’s all the family I have left.”

  I felt sure he’d gotten wind of my little speech down in the mess about family members likely being gone.

  “Deb and I had kind of a deal.”

  “The mission, what did y’all call it, the TDF?”

  He choked out a little laugh before answering. “Yeah, ‘They Die First.’ She was tired of letting someone else throw the first punch.”

  I liked it, Banshee had been needing a cool moniker, TDF sounded perfect.

  “If you went on the space mission, she would get you down to where your brother is?” I said, taking a guess. It sounded like the kind of move Bayou would have made.

  “Yes, me and a fire team from Red-7.”

  It was selfish, suicidal even, and well in keeping with the man’s near legendary loyalty to his men and his brother.

  “You know as soon as word gets out, all of Red-7 will volunteer to go. Most don’t seem too crazy about staying on this space boat, anyway.”

  “Hell, Joe, half of them still can’t keep solid food down. It’s hard to get used to always feeling like you’re falling each time your feet leave the decking. Still, I can’t ask them to go. This is personal.”

  I leaned back in the chair and studied the man. He wasn’t the only one wanting to get back to the surface. Not even the only one zeroing in on Paris.

  “You did more than your part, Jordan. Put together a plan of what you need and get it to me by 1800 hours.”

  “Thank you, Kovach. You will let Deb know…”

  I knew the man’s loyalties were divided. He was obviously torn between staying with Riggs or going after his brother.

  We stood together and headed toward the door. “We will keep a close eye on her. If comms stay up, you can get updates as often as you want.”

  He paused at the hatch. “You know, Kovach, you aren’t half bad for a Space Monkey.”

  I burst out laughing. The dig was so out of character for the man. Space Force had been called Monkeys since the early days, referring to the original rocket test where countries sent primates into orbit.

  “High praise from a space-walking ground-pounder.”

  I spent much of the afternoon with Bayou listening to the monitors beep and watching her IV fluids cycle in. She looked much better, but I needed her awake and in charge. I also wanted some answers. I needed to know who she was talking to that day. Seeing the ragged skin of her midsection being microscopically stitched back together, though, made me realize she wouldn’t be giving me those answers… at least not in time to be useful.