Conquest

-13-

They’d turned off the sirens, but everyone was tense, watching the skies. At their current acceleration rate, we had several days before the Macros reached Earth. We were going to use every second we had to dig in.

I managed to slip out a couple of hours after the Macros left Venus’ orbit. I had the entire staff busy by then. I exited the headquarters building and made it all the way to my bungalow unnoticed.

This suit was one of the newer models. I’d made many refinements over the last few weeks and had come up with a superior design. Sandra had even put in a few additions of her own when I’d been too busy to work on them. In some cases, just trimming back the overlap of the armor plates increased my freedom of movement. I’d also beefed the fusion generator somewhat. The initial system didn’t really provide enough power to keep both beam projectors embedded in the suit’s arms going while the system was in flight. That was a critical drawback. If my marines were going into battle as swarms of tiny fighters in space, they had to be able to fly and shoot at the same time.

I had my battle suit half on by the time Sandra found me. When the door slammed, I played it cool.

“Ah, there you are,” I called out. “Could you help me with my helmet? This thing is still hard to put on solo.”

Sandra stalked over to me and crossed her arms under her breasts. She gave me a withering stare. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“Um…to war,” I said. “Helmet?”

She took the helmet away from me and bounced it around in her hands as if it was a basketball. I knew it weighed about as much as she did. Her strength still surprised me sometimes.

“You were going to ditch me. Again. Don’t even try to deny it. You are a serial-ditcher.”

“Uh, I have a war to run, Sandra. At times, that is bound to put me in harm’s way.”

She shook her head, ducking as I reached for my helmet. “No, I don’t think so. You don’t need to be in a battle suit days before the Macros get here. There’s only one reason you would be dressing up like this.”

I sighed. “Yes, you’re right. I’m going up. I have to.”

“Why, Kyle?” she asked. Her voice shifted to a high, almost tearful note.

“I’ve got a plan. I really do. If it works, it might save this world another bloodbath.”

“Let somebody else do it.”

“I would if I could. But truthfully, no one else can.”

Deflated, she lifted up my helmet and slid it down on my head. I winced as it went over my face. Sometimes, if put on roughly, these things could rip your nose half-off. But she did it gently.

“You know,” she said as she adjusted my suit here and there. “I read in school that Samurai wives would sometimes help put on their husband’s Yoroi armor before battle. They would line his body with a layer of silk, then the armor. They would make sure it was done right to ensure he would return from battle.”

“I can’t take you with me,” I said. “Not this time.”

“That means you’re not coming back,” she said.

“I’m—I’m really not sure if I am or not.”

She hauled off then and kicked me in my heavily-armored butt. The kick was so hard I actually felt some sensation and rocked forward a bit. Inside my helmet, I grinned.

“What happened to all that business about understanding?” I demanded.

“I have my limits.”

Sandra left me then, but turned around in the doorway.

“Come back,” she said, “or I’ll kill you myself.”

With that stunning display of logic, she walked out of the bungalow into the afternoon sun. She left the door standing open behind her. A fresh breeze stirred the paper plates on the kitchen table and ruffled our blinds, but I couldn’t feel it through the suit. After a minute or so of checking my readouts, I clanked out of the house and headed for the landing pits.

I’d always wanted to fly one of the new destroyers. I could have gone up in Socorro, but I didn’t feel like it. After all, I’d designed these destroyers, and by damn if I was going to die today, then I was at least going to have the pleasure of flying one first.

I marched to the first of the destroyers. It was sleek and vaguely boomerang-shaped. I took a slow moment to admire her lines, then commed to the pilot to open the hatch. After identifying me, he did so hastily. I walked heavily up the ramp and found the bridge. It was relatively roomy compared to the smaller ships I was used to.

I’d chosen this particular destroyer at random. It happened to be resting in the closest land pit to my bungalow. I looked around at the lucky crew.

“Gentlemen,” I said. “I’m commandeering this ship. Kindly get the hell out—now.”

The crew stared at me. They were Fleet people, and wore blue nanite-cloth flight suits. They’d been training, preparing for the big day when this ship was needed in battle. I was still hoping that day wouldn’t come. It was a faint hope.

One of the men got up out of his crash seat and frowned at me. He was a tall fellow with a dark, bristling beard.

“Colonel Riggs?” he said with a mild east European accent. “I’m Captain Miklos. We have only just been assigned this vessel. Why do you ask us to leave our new ship?”

Inwardly, I sighed. I had sympathy for Miklos. Getting your own new ship to command, especially one of these amazing new destroyers, was exhilarating. I knew I was seriously raining on his parade.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” I said. “I need to take her up. With luck, I’ll bring her back in a day or so.”

“And if you have no luck, sir?”

“Then I won’t be coming back at all.”

Captain Miklos stared at me, nodding slowly as he gained an inkling of what I intended to do.

“Does our Admiral Crow approve of this expedition?”

“I haven’t asked him. But if I did, he would most definitely approve.”

Captain Miklos laughed briefly, catching my joke. It was no secret that Crow and I were frequently at each other’s throats. Any risky action I took that removed me from the home front—especially a mission that might be fatal—was a winner in Crow’s book.

“Will you not need a crew to go with you, Colonel?” Miklos asked suddenly. He lifted his chin and looked over his nose at me.

I reached up and removed my helmet. I could tell now I wasn’t going to need the battle suit to take the ship by force. Hell, they were volunteering to go out there with me.

“Captain,” I said, looking him eye-to-eye, “I can’t ask you to make that kind of sacrifice. I’m only taking a destroyer because they are faster than the smaller ships. I don’t need to kill a good crew along with it.”

Miklos nodded. “I understand, sir. But do you have the right to order me off my own vessel?”

I sighed. Star Force was different than traditional national navies. We had slowly developed our own rules of conduct. We had started as a group of pirate captains in a loose association. In many ways, we still thought that way, especially among the members of the Fleet. A captain was still something of a king aboard his own vessel.

“No,” I said. “I do not have that right.”

Miklos seemed pleased. He knew I’d once been on the Fleet side of Star Force, and I understood their code of honor. “Colonel,” he said. “I believe I know something of what you intend. But this ship is designed to be flown by a full crew. I ask if I can volunteer to accompany you—along with any of my crew who agree to join us.”

Surprised by his adventurism, I agreed. “All right,” I said. “She’s your command. I’m visiting brass. If you agree to accept my missions as Fleet orders, you can fly this vessel for me.”

He swept his eyes over his crew. During our discussion, the group had gathered on the bridge. All told, there were three. The complement of marines I’d planned for each of these ships weren’t yet deployed. I was the only marine, and the only man in a battle suit.

In the end, all three agreed to come. None of them could bear to be the coward, to turn away while their captain and I watched them. Star Force did not recruit cowards. I was proud of them all, even if the gunner did look a little green.

“When do we take off, sir?” Captain Miklos asked.

“Immediately. I’ve already cleared it with traffic control. Give them my priority code.”

I listed a series of letters and digits. I’d long since arranged codes to allow immediate access to the skies over Andros. Every day it seemed Crow added fresh red tape and I had to work to drive a knife through it. Today, that preparation helped. The destroyer lifted off without being challenged or even causing a stir on the base. As far as I knew, Crow thought I’d gone to eat dinner.

Even though I figured that Crow wouldn’t try to stop me if he knew what I was doing, I didn’t feel like explaining it to him. He would have objections if he suspected some of my contingency plans. He would also most likely insist I take Socorro instead of one of his precious new destroyers. He might be right in that regard, but I didn’t care. If this went well, we wouldn’t need the destroyer today. If it went badly, one ship more or less wasn’t going to save Earth from the Macro fleet.

“What’s the name of your ship, Captain?” I asked as I felt the deck heave and swell under my armored feet.

“The Barbarossa, sir,” he said.

I nodded, my face registering some level of surprise. The name meant ‘red beard’ in Italian, but had been used in many other historical contexts. I was immediately curious as to how Captain Miklos had struck upon the name. Unlike traditional naval forces, Star Force had a long-standing tradition of allowing commanders to name their own ships. This stemmed from our roots, where each commander had to fight to the death to win the right to command each Nano ship. Captains usually thought long and hard before they assigned their first ship a name.

“Barbarossa…” I said thoughtfully. “That name means different things to different people, captain. Such as the German campaign to take out Russia in World War Two.”

“That’s not the meaning I was thinking of,” Captain Miklos said quickly. “I reached back to the oldest meaning. Fredrick Barbarossa was the Holy Roman Emperor of a thousand years past, a great military leader. It has been whispered for centuries that he would return some day to save Europe from evil.”

“Ah, I see,” I said, getting the reference at last. “In that case, rest assured. This ship will get the chance to live up to its name very soon.”

Captain Miklos looked pleased. I could tell this man had guts and dreams of glory. I liked him already. The other crewmembers exchanged worried glances. I didn’t blame them—they were in for quite a ride.