The Lotus Eaters

Federated States Airborne Command and Control Ship (ACCS), 205 miles east of Santander, Terra Nova

The radar officer cursed with surprise. "Motherfucker! Sir, three pairs of fast movers just popped over the mountains east of Balboa City. No identification." The lieutenant made a quick speed check. "Yes, sir. Definitely jets. Course suggests they came from somewhere in the Shimmering Sea."

The lieutenant colonel stifled a curse of his own. Goddamned Navy. By what right do they cut us out?

"And, sir? That recon skimmer—at least I think it's a recon skimmer—from the UEPF will be in range in twelve minutes."

Weapons added, "I'm tracking it, sir. We can down it on your command."

The colonel thought, This operation has to originate at echelons above God. No way I can get permission to fire in any timely fashion. Well . . . I'm an officer of the Federated States. I see my countrymen in action. I see a threat. I am duty bound to take out that threat, if it's within my capabilities.

That will sound great at my court-martial, won't it? Ah, screw the court-martial.

"Fire as soon as they're in range, Mister."