Star Marines. Ian Douglas

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СКАЧАТЬ if there were any conflicts. They would expect him to link through to the Senate in Stockholm and to General Linden at the Bureau of the Military and ask their opinion.

      But the clock was running. It was now 1231 hours, GMT. If he put a call through immediately, it would be 1235 before they received the message on Earth, and 1240 at the earliest before he would have an answer.

      And he knew General Linden, and he knew the WU Senate. It might be hours before they decided to get back to him with a yes-no decision.

      The HELGA array would be ready to fire at 1243. In fact, he could fire the weapon now, though the capacitors would not be up to full power for another fourteen minutes.

      The Preble was seven light-minutes away, which meant that a request for a clarification of those orders would not be answered before 1245 hours. And any delay was serious.

      It is of the utmost importance that HELGA Three take the Intruder under fire at the earliest possible opportunity, as it may move from its new location at any moment. So read the orders just downloaded to Kali from Admiral Jollett.

      It was, he thought, what the Americans liked to call a “damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t” situation. If he obeyed Jollett’s direct order, he could be court-martialed by the Bureau. At the very least, he would lose his command, and his future career with the nascent WU military organization would be questionable at best. If he waited to consult with Stockholm, he would never be trusted by New York again, or by the military arms of the United States.

      But worse by far—and the deciding factor—was the tactical situation. The Intruder would be in an ideal position for only a few moments, at best, and might leave at any instant. The sooner he targeted the Hunter vessel, the better Humankind’s chances in this fight.

      “Kali?”

      “Yes, Captain Narayanan?”

      “Retarget and reconfigure targeting schedule. We are taking the Intruder under fire.”

      “That is in violation of your orders from Stockholm, Captain. You are required to consult with Stockholm.”

      “I am well aware of that. I believe the situation warrants this action.”

      “Very well. I am retargeting the array.”

      Retargeting required only an adjustment of the primary mirror, a change of a couple of degrees. There was no sensation of movement or of acceleration within the microgravity of the control deck.

      “Retargeting is complete. We are locked onto the coordinates provided by the Commodore Edward Preble.”

      “Initiate firing sequence.”

      “Capacitors are not yet up to—”

      “The target is not solid rock. Fire. Now. If you please.”

      “Firing.”

      If the AI governing HELGA Three’s systems was chagrined, it showed no sign of the fact. The energy of multiple fusion bombs streamed into space.

       We Who Are

       Asteroid Belt

       1236 hrs, GMT

       The Lords Who Are had directed the huntership to approach the fourth planet of this system. They’d detected a high concentration of electromagnetic signals emerging from several points on the planet’s surface, and from the inner of the planet’s two small moons, and there were a number of spacecraft in the vicinity as well. The Lords Who Are felt it necessary to examine the world more closely, especially in regard to its military capabilities and potential.

       The blast of coherent energy that struck the huntership, then, caught the Lords Who Are somewhat by surprise. Their approach had been cautious, with EM shields fully up and powered, but they were prepared for an attack from the planet in question, or from one of the tiny spacecraft swarming through this region; the laser beam arrived from a different direction and source entirely—from a base circling this system’s star between the orbits of the second and third planets.

      That orbital base had fired once, a few tanut earlier, and at least partially annihilated the first of the asteroids already set in motion toward the third planet. The Lords Who Are had analyzed the data, and concluded that the laser array was designed to intercept and destroy small asteroids, but that it was not primarily a military weapon. The array’s output, based on the reflected light from the laser strike against the rock, suggested that the array was not capable of seriously threatening the huntership in any case.

       It was clear now that the analyses of the beam’s power was understated by at least eighty percent. Possibly, much of that initial beam had actually missed the hurtling asteroid, and been lost in deep space, a possibility that the Lords Who Are had not considered.

       They considered it now, as the beam struck the huntership’s shields, overwhelmed them, and drove them down. Star-hot radiation struck the living surface of the huntership, flash-boiling vast quantities into the vacuum. The power plant and the reactionless drives, both those that maneuvered the huntership through normal space, and those that made faster-than-light travel possible, began boiling away an instant later, as heat exchangers and quantum dampers strove to compensate for the torrent of coherent EM radiation.

       Worse, optical and other sensors located in the huntership’s skin were seared into uselessness. New ones could be grown, but, for the moment, at least, the ship and the Lords Who Are were blind, deaf, and helpless.

      Given the technology of the species inhabiting system 2420-544, this was not a serious situation, but it was irritating. And frustrating. Vermin were not supposed to fight back.

       There would be no more experimentation with the locals’ defenses. The damage to sensors, power plant, weapons, and drives would be repaired, the huntership restored to full operational capacity, and the worlds of this star system would be sterilized.

       Once and for all.

       Assault Detachment Alpha

      On Board Commodore Edward Preble

       Outbound from Mars

       1308 hrs, GMT

      “All right, Marines,” Garroway bellowed over the platoon channel. He was standing in the central aisle of the crowded autie, gauntleted hands braced on seatbacks on either side. The CAS helped him stand, but it still wasn’t pleasant. They were pulling, according to the telemetry coming through his link, two and a half gravities. “Noumie briefing in five! Check your contacts!”

      “Damn it, Gunny,” Corporal Kevin Yancey said. “When can we peel out of these tin cans? It’s getting freakin’ ripe in here.”

      “Stew in it, Yancey. ‘Your combat armor is the Marine’s skin. Your combat armor will keep you alive and able to kill your enemies. You will care for your combat armor as though it was your own body. …’”

      The old litany out of boot camp raised a chorus of groans from the Marines, which had been Garroway’s intent. СКАЧАТЬ