Rebellion Ebook Full (6 page)

Sandra jumped a little and worked at her board. “Oops,” she said.

I looked at her with a flat stare. She made tapping adjustments on her screen. Suddenly, the big screen lit up with contacts.

“I think I had it set for known contacts and signals only,” Sandra said. “It was just showing our two Macro ships.” She turned back to the big screen. Then she shut up and joined all of us in jaw-dropping shock.

The screen swam with hundreds of contacts. There were ships around every planet, or satellites of some kind. Dozens of contacts roved the surfaces of all six of the central planets and a few on the icy worlds as well.

“Give me some color!” I shouted. “Sarin, give me something. I want to see red on unknowns, blue on Macros.”

“Working on it, sir,” she replied evenly. “Blue contacts are Macros.

There it was. I had my answers. Every contact on the surface of every planet was a Macro. All six of the living worlds were crawling with them. Up in space, there were red contacts, however. Unknowns in stationary orbits. Those had to be our targets. Orbiting apart from the satellites was a small number of what I assumed to be Macro ships.

“Looks like we’ve come to this party late,” I said.

“Why do they even need us?” asked Major Sarin. “The Macros have them surrounded; they are running wild on every planet.”

I shrugged. I had a few ideas already. Maybe the satellites were rigged to blow up if they got too close. Maybe they knew they would take a few losses in these final assaults and decided they’d rather lose human fodder. Or maybe, this was all a big test to see which side was stronger, these defeated beings or my marines.

Whatever the answer, I knew we were going to be fighting brother biotics again soon, people who appeared to be on their knees already, and it made me sick.

“Colonel?” Sandra said.

I didn’t answer for a second. I just stared at the screen. I was trying not to have an angry outburst. It would not be good for morale.

“Kyle,” Sandra said insistently, her voice full of sudden emotion. “I’ve got new contacts. Very close, very faint.”

My eyes swept back to our spot on the map. We were at the ring still, in terms of distance we’d covered little ground. There was a scattering of tiny, green dots nearby.

“What are those?” I asked, frowning.

“They’re…” Sandra trailed off. She tapped at her screen with urgency, and piped through a transmission to our speakers. “I think they’re ours.”

“S. O. S…” a scratchy voice came in for a moment, then faded out, then came in again. “We’re Star Force marines, Echo Company. Can anyone read me?”

A chill ran through me. I knew I was hearing my own marines, calling to me for help.

-5-

For one crazy second, I thought we might have gone through some kind of time-warp. Then I thought of a worse scenario. Maybe, just maybe, we had finally experienced a relativistic effect of the rings. What if this one wasn’t operating properly? What if it really had taken centuries to transport us from Helios to this system, and the men outside were beaten Star Force units from our own future? For all I knew, I was looking at six worlds covered in Macro robots that had once been human colonies. If that were the case, we were far worse than late for the battle. We were
centuries
late, and we were on the wrong side.

I tried to push these wild thoughts away. They wouldn’t do any of my crew, or myself, any good to contemplate.

“I know who it is,” Sandra said. Everyone looked at her this time, and not with disgust, but with hope.

She smiled, but none of us smiled back. We didn’t share in her hope yet. “It’s the guys that fell through the ring—back on Helios, remember? They had to go somewhere.”

I stared at her, and suddenly I realized she was right. It had to be. It was the simplest answer. The contacts were small. They could be single men, floating in space. They would have been out here for what…four days now? They could have survived that long. Our rebreathers were better than old Earth technology had ever built. With nanos scrubbing out the CO2, they could function almost indefinitely. They would have been critically short of water, power and rations, but….

I nodded. “I think you’re right. They are our marines.”

“The marines who were sucked through the ring with the Worms?” Major Sarin asked in something like shock. “They are still alive?”

I nodded again, and leaned on the table. I leaned close to the tiny green contacts. I felt a growing certainty. “Is there no way we can get a signal out to them?” I asked.

Sandra shook her head and bit her lip. I had known the answer of course, but felt I had to ask the question. I had set up a sensor array in the skin of the invasion ship weeks ago, but it was passive in design. It didn’t transmit radio signals. All it did was feed data down a nanite wire to us in the hold.

We heard the S. O. S message again. The marine giving it sounded tired, but determined. Maybe he could see the Macro ships flying by. I wasn’t surprised none of the Macros had stopped to pick them up or even to send them an acknowledgement. My marines were broken equipment. Useless and beneath notice. There was no compassion in the Macros. They probably didn’t even comprehend the concept.

“You have to do something, Kyle,” Sandra said.

Right then, for the first time, I thought I had made a mistake promoting her and putting her on the command brick. She was too familiar with me, and made constant breaches of protocol under stress. I figured I’d have to come up with a way to get her into another job description soon. Without pissing her off too badly, of course.

I put up my hand for quiet. “I’m trying to think of something.”

“We could try a focused radio beam, it might penetrate the hull,” Gorski suggested.

“Just call up the Macros and tell them to pick them up,” Sandra suggested.

Major Sarin didn’t say anything. She watched me and the board, flicking her eyes between both.

“We’ll try the Macros first,” I said. “Connect me with Macro Command.”

“Channel open,” Sandra said immediately.

“Macro Command. We require reinforcements for maximum combat effectiveness.”

“No reinforcements are available.”

“Negative, Macro Command. We have detected a group of our marines in very close proximity. They are stranded. We could bring them back to this ship and increase our combat numbers significantly.”

“Permission granted.”

Everyone cheered. I grinned at my audience. It felt good to win one once in a while. “Excellent, Macro Command. If you would slow down the invasion ship and turn around, we’ll pick them up now.”

There was a momentary delay.
“Request denied.”

I felt as if someone had kicked me in the gut. I fought to keep my temper under control. “Macro Command, we demand that you retrieve our lost forces.”

“This task force will not alter its schedule. It will not decelerate. It will not alter course. Mission parameters will be met.”

“How the hell do they expect us to pick them up, then?” I demanded.

“Colonel?” Major Sarin said. “Sir?”

“What is it?”

“The doors sir, they—”

But she didn’t get any further. Alarms went off all over the base.

Doors?
I thought, then I figured it out, and I screamed for the crash-straps to be re-engaged. This time, Sandra didn’t waste any time. She relayed the command, and all over the base little nano arms sprouted and grabbed Marines, securing them. It was a good thing too, as the four triangular doors of the hold had cracked open and begun to fold outward. Escaping atmosphere boiled out into space. We felt the command brick shift with the explosive force of its passage. The magnetic clamps held, however, and none of the bricks floated out with it.

A few of my men were not so lucky. They were lifted as if by a tornado. I ordered the internal cameras in the hold to be displayed. Marines and equipment spiraled out of the flowering jaws of the invasion ship into space. They all appeared to have their helmets on, at least.

“Man the assault ships!” I shouted over the roaring din. “I want every pilot aboard their ships, with a complement of two, including one medic. Get out there and rescue every marine you find!”

The next few minutes were a frenzy of activity. The doors had opened and sucked out dozens of my men into space before the crash-straps could grab them. I figured they were getting their null-gravity training hands-on today. I ordered one of my eight assault ships to pick up local men, those who had been sucked out by the released pressure in the hold. The other seven ships I sent back to the ring we had just come through. They were to grab every living man they could and bring them back.

“Sir?” Gorski asked, trying to get my attention.

“What is it, Captain?” I snapped.

“I’m not sure, sir…”

“Not sure about what?”

“Not sure this will work. I’m still toying with the math. You might have to abort the rescue effort at the ring.”

“Clarify. And do it fast.”

Gorski shook his head and worked at his screen where he had a big spreadsheet app displayed. Calculus functions were everywhere, displaying large numbers.

“The invasion ship is not decelerating. If we send back our assault shuttles, they might not be able to get to the marines, pick them up, and then turn around and chase us down before we’ve reached our destination.”

“Which is?” I asked.

Gorski tapped his board. “I’ve plotted that out. Given our course and the time-frame the Macros provided, we are heading for one of the big satellites orbiting the outermost warm-water world. There are factors I’m not sure of, but if the Macros keep to their schedule and launch us about four hours from now, we will be going pretty fast when we get there as it is.”

“Just do the math, and give me the answer.”

“I can’t give you a definitive answer, sir,” he said. “There are unknowns.”

“Such as?”

“The big one is our launch point: How far out do the Macros expect to be when they launch us at the enemy?”

I nodded. I could see that. If they intended to move right up and dock with these satellites…that was a far different set of circumstances than firing us out of the hold at a safe distance. Possibly, they intended to pass by and shoot us out laterally, like drive-by bullets fired out a window. Not being able to ask your commander a legitimate question about the grand plan was painful when setting up an assault.

“What’s your call, sir?” Gorski asked.

“What’s a safe point of no return?” I asked.

Gorski didn’t ask what I meant. He knew well enough. I watched him tap at his screen. I needed to know how long I had in the worst case to make my decision.

“You should have two hours, Colonel,” he said. “After that, we are taking the risk of not having the assault ships with us when we have to make our attack—given that the macros won’t adjust their timetable.”

I thought about it, and the more I did the more I didn’t like it. The Macros had never been easily diverted from their plans—even when they were suicidal. They’d rather see us all die pointlessly than be a few minutes late. There was a certain beauty in their approach, from a commander’s point of view. These heartless robots were very good at motivating people to be on time.

I listened for a second to the SOS calls. I ordered Sandra to hook me up on an open transmission channel to my drifting marines. At least, with the hold door open, we could do that much.

“Echo Company,” I said. “This is Colonel Kyle Riggs. We are in contact. We have your positions mapped. We are coming to get you, boys…one way or another.”

There was a lot of cheering after that. Only Major Sarin and Captain Gorski stared at me worriedly. They knew I was splitting my forces in the face of an unknown enemy. I was changing the plan midstream. Possibly, this was a foolish error, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sailing on by my own men and leaving them hanging out there in space, watching us. I knew they were dying gradually in the cold. Call me a sentimental fool, if you wish.

-6-

Out of the seventeen marines who were sucked out into space, we recovered all but two alive. Three of the survivors were too banged up to fight, but they would heal fast in tanks of nanites. They would have to sit out this assault, but if there was another one, they would be ready to go by tomorrow. Our medical nanites were now better than ever before. They seemed to be learning and getting better at bodily repair each passing month. I often joked they would be able to convert me into a blue-eyed blond, if I wanted to be one, in a few years. They had studied human anatomy for decades prior to the invasion, but that was different than real trauma recovery.

It was miraculous to watch when they flowed over an open wound. I winced when I checked on my injured men, knowing the itch they felt and the gagging tastes of metal in their mouths. A common unpleasant side-effect was sudden blindness that struck when too many clustered around the optical nerve, shorting it out, or went for a swim in the aqueous fluid.

But one could not argue, despite these inconveniencies, the nanites were a godsend. They weren’t like a surgeon—they were like a million tiny surgeons, able to stitch up something as small as an individual cellular membrane. They weren’t as small as viruses, but they could be as small as a single microbe. They were like intelligent, metal microbes that worked in tandem to do amazing things.