Chapter II

Justin hesitated before replying to the inquiry from Mars’ space-to-ground control. He had survived more than one raid into this sector, and the sight of the surface below triggered all the old emotions.

"This is USMC ship Frederick George One Niner Three, requesting landing clearance at Bell Station."

The radio was silent for a moment.

Justin banked his fighter slightly to starboard and looked down. It was all so ironic. Down below he could see the Martian City named for his own grandfather, who had been a crewmember on the first mission to Mars back in 2025. Perhaps the Colonial government had insisted upon his landing here as a means of rubbing a little salt into his wounds. After all, his grandfather was now buried down there. Just before open hostilities broke out, the old man had gone back "to die on ground I’m proud of," as he put it when they had said a final farewell. At least he had not lived long enough to see what had become of his only grandson. The old man never voiced it, but Justin knew that he was ashamed that one of his blood had sided with the government of Earth against the Colonies.

I feel so damn old, Justin thought sadly, again wishing for a drink. He leaned back in the cockpit chair and stretched. There was a time when he could stand the confinement of a Glenn-class fighter for weeks. The five-day ride out from Earth was now about all that he could handle. It wasn’t just the confinement, with barely enough room for cockpit, bunk, and head; it was the loneliness of the long watches, the silence.

Funny, in North Carolina it’s what I sought. It was different here, though. He had missed space with the aching passion of an old man remembering the first love of youth, yet now that he had it back all the other memories returned: the terror of contact, the deadly explosions rippling in silence across the starry night, the screams of the dying as their ships burned or burst asunder, tossing their crews into vacuum. And the memory as well of the voices, more than one of them from Academy days, more than one of them in ships he had locked into his gunnery computer.

"USMC ship FG 193, you are cleared for Landing Approach Beta. Lock your auto-land to 1185."

"Activating 1185."

Justin leaned over and switched the auto-land system on. Seconds later he felt the kick of his thrusters as the ship pivoted into retro position, engines firing up, pressing him back into his chair.

He rode the trail of fire down across the Martian sky, with Bell Station looming up in his rear projection screen. Crossing into the thin atmosphere the ship pivoted again, presenting itself at a high angle, the ablative shield underneath heating up. Wings deployed, locking into place, and the ship went through a series of S-turns, bleeding off speed, spiraling downward. As he swung into the final approach pattern he saw the old impact points from area bombardments stitched across the far hills north of the city, bombardments he had helped to deliver in the third year of the war. That was still in the early days of the conflict, the target a series of command and control centers defended by heavy particle beams and SAM sites. They had never knocked the place out, giving up after losing an entire squadron of ships and a battalion of space-to-surface marine assault troops in the last attack.

His ship turned onto final approach and he felt a tightening in his gut. Instinct still told him that coming in straight and high without evasive maneuvers was an invitation to get fried over this place. He settled back and let the autopilot handle the landing, hands poised lightly on throttle and stick in case of a malfunction. Thin-atmosphere landings were a bit tricky with the Glenn fighter and even a glitch of several milliseconds with the computer could trigger an irretrievable stall.

The fighter’s nose rose up as it shot past the outer beacon, crabbing to starboard for a crosswind landing. Green lights snapped on, indicating wheel-lock, and the ship touched down.

"FG-193, take Ramp Three on your starboard side and follow the lights into Docking Bay Forty."

Justin lightly touched the controls, following the winking lights embedded in the runway, which led him to the ramp and down a slope into a hardened bunker beneath the surface. Double plastisteel doors slid open at his approach and slammed shut behind him as he taxied into the bunker. He shut down his fighter and waited for the green light on the bunker wall in front of him to come on, indicating that the room was pressurized. The light snapped on and Justin popped the canopy open. As he stood up he felt wobbly for a brief moment after the five days of weightlessness. The Glenn fighters were far too small for the expense and luxury of one of the new artificial gravity and inertial dampening units.

Climbing out on the wing, he looked around for a ladder and ground crew. The room was empty. He tried not to smile at what he suspected was an intended insult. He walked gingerly down the side of the wing and leaped off, lightly dropping the ten feet to the ground, and headed for the access door that opened at his approach.

The sight of a light blue Colonial uniform unnerved him slightly.

"Captain Justin Bell?"

Justin wasn’t quite sure what protocol to follow at the sight of an obviously very junior lieutenant. Something in the back of his mind told him that visiting officers were to be met by an officer of equal rank according to the rules of protocol, and it was obvious that this recently minted fuzzy-cheeked officer was the only one present to greet him.

He decided to let it pass.

"You have him," Justin said quietly.

"Follow me, please."

"Lieutenant?"

The boy turned and looked back at him.

"Remember, the war’s over, son, and where I come from we still salute superior rank, even if he was an enemy."

The boy looked at him disdainfully for a moment, and then, barely coming to attention, he saluted. Justin returned the salute.

"Now that the formalities are over with, let’s go wherever it is you’re taking me."

The boy turned around and started off. Justin made it a point not to match his rapid pace as they stepped out into the main corridor of the base. The kid was just trying to run him a bit and he would be damned if he’d let a wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant set the pace.

The hallway was packed. Many of them were civilians rushing to catch flights, but a fair percentage were military personnel. With the mobilization for war fourteen years before, the distinction between military and civilian transport blurred . . . which was part of the problem that led to more than one mistake.

Justin could sense the hostility as he walked down the corridor, eyes straight ahead, his white USMC uniform shining like a beacon in the crowd.

The lieutenant kept ahead of him, as if trying to distance himself.

"You bastard!"

The blow caught Justin across the back of the neck, staggering him. He whirled around and crouched low, ready to take the next strike. An elderly woman stood before him, bag raised.

"I know you," she shrieked, "you’re Bell. I lost my husband at Bradbury, you son of a bitch."

She started for him and he backed up, frantically looking for his escort to intervene. The lieutenant was now lost in the crowd, moving away, obviously ignoring the fact that his charge was about to get mugged by an enraged gray-haired widow.

Justin raised his hands up to ward off the next swing. A crowd started to form, most of them watching with either amusement or, worse yet, open hatred, as if they were about to join in the fun. He remembered the old family story about a distant ancestor who had been forced to run the gauntlet while he was a reluctant guest of the Shawnee. Several members of the crowd started to urge the woman on, one of them moving to get behind Justin.

"What the hell are you people doing?"

A dark-haired woman in a green uniform pushed her way through the mob, stepping in front of the widow as she started to bring her bag up for another strike.

Justin felt a quick flood of emotion at the sight of woman in the green uniform, even as she motioned for him to turn around and get moving. He pivoted and saw a man nearly his own age leaning back to sucker punch him from behind. Justin ducked beneath the blow and with a catlike ease put him down on the ground, hitting him hard, but not enough to break his neck—which he could have so easily done.

Justin backed away from the man, not saying a word, hoping that he would give up. Several hands reached out from the crowd and pulled his gasping assailant away.

He felt a body behind him, covering his back, and again there was that chilly tingling feeling.

"This man is a guest of your government," his savior shouted. "This is a hell of a statement as to who you are. He’s here because of the Tracs, here to help you, and this is how you greet him."

"Help us?" someone taunted. "Let the Tracs fry Earth."

The crowd started to edge closer.

"Break it up! Come on, people."

At the edge of the crowd Justin saw several military police moving in and he breathed a sigh of relief, glad for the first time in his life to see MPs.

The crowd drifted away, except for the old woman who came around in front of Justin, tears streaming down her face.

"I hope you rot in torment, the way I do," she gasped.

Justin looked into her eyes.

"I do," he whispered softly.

She looked at him, ignoring the MPs that now flanked her. A sob shuddered through her, and she turned and fled.

Justin watched her go, wanting to say more and knowing it was useless.

He turned to looked back at his rescuer.

"Tanya Leonov."

Just saying the name brought back a flood of emotion, some of it wonderful, most of it bittersweet and painful. She looked up at him with her bright oval eyes, a smile crinkling her features. Funny—she looked older, not how he remembered her at all, with flowing black hair, high Slavic cheekbones and pale complexion, and her bewitching green eyes. But that was nearly fourteen years ago, he realized. Of course she would look older. Thin lines now creased the edge of her mouth and the corners of her eyes, the nick of an old scar tracing under her jaw, a few wisps of gray tracing through her raven-black hair. Yet still, in his eyes and in his heart she would be forever eighteen.

"Bell, you look like shit! What the hell you’ve been trying to do, kill yourself with drink?"

The same old Tanya, he thought with a smile.

"Every time I see you again you always have such a friendly greeting," Justin said softly.

"Well, that’s because you’re usually screwing up somehow."

"This from the woman whose life I saved how many times?"

"I paid you back double for that and as far as I’m concerned you still look like shit."

"You haven’t changed a bit, my dear."

The beginning of a smile started to form and then she looked past him.

"Lieutenant Haverlock, you certainly know how to do your job."

Justin looked over his shoulder at his escort standing behind the MPs.

"Thanks for the help, Lieutenant," Justin added, wishing the young man were in USMC service rather than Colonial. He’d be standing double watch for one hell of a long time to come.

"If you’re finished visiting, Captain, I suggest we continue," Haverlock announced coldly.

Justin looked back at Tanya.

"Care to come along?"

"That’s what I’m here for. I wanted to get to your landing bay ahead of your one-man reception committee." She looked over with a sneer at the lieutenant, "But you touched down a bit early."

"You weren’t invited," the lieutenant announced testily.

"Young man, you recognize this uniform?" Tanya snapped, and Justin stepped aside with a smile as she stormed up to the lieutenant, thrusting her face into his so that he was forced to back up.

"It’s the uniform of a senior member of the Bilateral peace Commission, or are you color blind?

"By the agreement signed by both the Colonial and Earth governments," she continued, not letting him even begin a response, "I have full authorization to visit all military and nonmilitary sites without the requirement of prior notification and/or authorization. My responsibilities also include the overseeing of any personnel from rival forces visiting such facilities on official business. Captain Bell is here on official business, and given the piss-poor display of security I’ve witnessed here I am personally taking an interest in seeing that he is delivered safely to his destination. And by heavens if I hear another word from you I’ll file an official complaint to the C-in-C Colonial Forces, and let me add that Admiral Brian Seay is a personal friend and former classmate of mine."

She took a deep breath.

"Now, have I made myself perfectly clear?"

Justin looked at the lieutenant, who started to open his mouth and then just stood there for several seconds looking completely ridiculous. He could almost feel sorry for him.

"Well, let’s get a move on then," Tanya snapped, shooing the lieutenant away as if he were a lost duckling.

The boy turned and beat a retreat, looking back quickly to see if he was being followed.

"And you three," she snarled, turning to face the MPs. "I’d like an escort, so look like you’re doing something instead of just occupying space."

The senior MP, barely able to hide a smile, saluted and fell in behind Justin and Tanya.

"You haven’t changed a bit, Tanya," Justin whispered as they started back down the corridor.

"I guess it helps with this damn job," she sighed. "So tell me, Bell. You just seemed to disappear out of existence. What happened?"

How could he even start to explain? Yet as he looked over at Tanya he knew there was no need to explain, not to her.

"What about you?" Justin finally replied, not wanting to discuss himself with her.

"Since when?"

Since when? Hell, he wasn’t even sure where to start; since things had ended between them when she resigned her post to join the Bilateral Commission, since he dropped out after Bradbury? He didn’t know. He snuck a quick glance down at her left hand.

"Never did marry, did you?"

"Didn’t have the time," she replied, and he saw that she took a quick glance at his left hand as well.

"Besides, I’m supposed to be part of a neutral commission to keep the war from escalating into wholesale annihilation. Hell, anyone I might have been interested in was in the service on one side or the other. Marry and I lose my job."

She looked up at him and smiled, and again he felt that tug.

They walked on in silence, Justin wondering once more about the "what-ifs." There was no denying that even after all the years of separation he had never quite gotten Tanya out of his system. Since the first day they had met when both were first year scrubs at the Academy she had bedeviled him, usually in an all-too-painful way, but on occasion in a wonderfully delightful way as well.

They reached the end of the corridor and the lieutenant stopped, pointing down a side hallway.

"Your transportation is waiting for you down there, sir."

Justin stopped, expecting that Tanya would take her leave, but she simply brushed past the lieutenant and started down the side hallway.

"Ah . . . ma’am?"

She looked back at him.

"I just invited myself," and she continued on.

Justin looked over at the lieutenant.

"Son, don’t even try to argue with her. I gave up on it twenty years ago."

Justin followed Tanya through the airlock, which was connected to a ground car. Climbing into the back seat, he settled in while Tanya went through the routine of showing her credentials to the driver, arguing with him for a moment and leveling the usual threats before the sergeant relented.

Leaving the station, Justin turned in his seat to look back at the hills that rose up beyond the landing strip.

"Your grandfather’s buried back there, isn’t he?" Tanya asked.

‘"Nearly sixty years since he first landed here. And all the changes. I wonder what he’d say."

"I think he’d be proud of you."

"I don’t know, Tanya. Remember, he came here to die right when the war started and I fought for the other side."

"I don’t think that’s the point anymore," she replied. "I think that more than anything else what counted for him was whether we did our duty. You chose your path, I chose mine," she hesitated for a moment, "and so did Matt. We did our duty and I think for that he would be proud of you. Remember, that’s what Thorsson taught us."

Just smiled sadly at the mention of Thor Thorsson, his old mentor and founder of the Academy. On the day that war was declared by the United Nations against the Colonies Thorsson had called all the cadets together, giving to those who wished to fight for the Colonies the right to leave. Feelings were running high, former classmates turning on each other in the final days before the declaration, with a number of brawls breaking out between rival sides.

Thorsson had defused them with the simple statement that no man or woman could be condemned for following their call to duty, no matter where it might lie. Pointing to the Academy flag, he noted that it represented all the people of the solar system, and not just one political faction or another. That it was a bond of comradeship that nothing, not even a civil war, could ever divide. He finished his speech with the request that every cadet present, no matter which side they were on, would renew their oath to the traditions taught at the Academy and swear as well to fight for their side with honor, integrity, and compassion for their opponents who had once been friends. Every single cadet complied.

Coming from nearly anyone else the appeal might have fallen on deaf ears, but Thorsson was the Academy and all that it stood for. He had shocked both sides when in closing he announced that he was resigning as well, since he could not bring himself to raise a hand against so many of the cadets who would serve on one side or the other. In leaving he also declared himself a neutral, stating that he would fight for neither side.

After leaving the Academy Thorsson founded the Bilateral Peace Commission, and by sheer weight of his authority forced both sides to recognize it as a moderator. Across the fourteen years of conflict the Commission served to enforce the "Rules of Engagement," as they became known, thereby preventing the war from slipping into a conflict of annihilation.

Justin looked over at Tanya. She had followed Thorsson into the Commission, an act that he realized took far more courage than going to fight. The Commission had succeeded in its work and, as with any moderator in a conflict, it had come to be both hated and admired by both sides.

"Did Thorsson have something to do with your just so happening to be here when I landed?"

Tanya smiled.

"I’m not supposed to give away trade secrets," and she furtively reached over and quickly squeezed his hand, then let go. The mere touch of her hand sent an electric shock through his system. He wanted to hang on, but she withdrew and settled back in her chair.

Turning into a narrow valley, the hover car wove its way down into the canyon to the north of Bell Station. Impact points from numerous air strikes marked the side of the canyon; wreckage of military equipment, hover cars, battery emplacements, and parts of several crashed fighters and landing craft were strewn across the valley floor.

"This was one hell of a tough nut to crack," Justin said, looking at the missed strikes and the ruins of several SAM sites.

"You ever visit here, sir?" the driver asked, looking into his rear view mirror.

"Most certainly did," Justin replied quietly. "I was with the 23rd Space-to-Ground Attack Group for a couple of years."

"Then I guess you could say we’ve met before," the sergeant announced. "I was a gunner with the First of the Third Ground Defense. Spent most of the war right here."

Justin looked at his face in the mirror. There was no sign of hostility.

Justin tentatively extended his hand.

"You did a good job, sergeant, we never did knock this out."

"Thank you, sir. Though a couple of times you don’t know how close you came," and the sergeant took his hand.

"Look, sergeant, if I got time later, how about a drink? I think we both owe it to each other."

"Will do, captain. I was always curious to hear what you Feds thought of this place."

"It scared the shit out of us."

The sergeant grinned at the compliment.

"Here we are, sir, the place you wanted to get."

Part of the hill directly in front of them started to roll back, boulders shifting to one side to reveal a heavy set of blast doors concealed behind the camouflage. Justin took a quick look around the narrow valley, trying to remember the attack runs he had made. The opposite side of the hill was scarred black from impact points. They’d been hitting the wrong side of the mountain!

The sergeant looked back in his mirror and grinned.

"That’s right, commander, we laughed our asses off."

"Well, I’ll be damned!"

"I guess if the show starts up again we’ll have to dig a new access. Either that, or I guess we’ll just have to keep you here forever," the sergeant said with a laugh.

"Captain Bell has sworn an oath of silence regarding any military facilities he might see here," Tanya interjected sharply. "I’ll vouch for his honesty."

"Sorry, sir, though if it was me I’d have a hard time keeping it secret. We took down a lot of your people while they were hitting nothing but rock."

The car passed through four sets of blast doors and came to a stop in a long, cavernous corridor. A lone figure stood in the shadows.

Justin climbed out of the car, Tanya by his side. Coming to attention, Justin saluted and then extended his hand, genuinely glad to see his old squad leader from his first year at the Academy.

"Admiral Brian Seay! Damn, it’s good to see you, sir."

"Two old scrubs of mine, almost like the old days," Brian replied with a smile, motioning for them to follow.

Turning down a side corridor, they stepped through another blast door into a simple office, furnished with nothing more than a cot, a battered standard-issue desk and a bank of holo screens on one wall.

For the C-in-C Colonial Forces, Justin somehow expected more.

Brian motioned for Justin to be seated, and then looked at Tanya.

"You know you weren’t invited to this."

Tanya simply grinned and took a chair beside Justin.

"You damn Bilateral people! If the war had kept up much longer I swear you folks would have been running the whole show."

"It’s what we wanted," Tanya said easily.

Brian smiled and shook his head, looking back at Justin.

"I guess you’ve heard it already, Bell, but you look like hell."

Justin merely nodded his head ruefully in reply and then went through the formality of presenting his authorization papers from Mahan along with a briefing holo from Brian’s counterpart on Earth.

Brian looked the papers over carefully for several minutes and then dropped them on his desk.

"I notice this is not authorized by your government—it’s strictly a USMC affair."

Justin nodded.

"Bell, this is really out of order. This approach should be through government channels, not one military to another."

"I realize that, sir. But would your government accept a liaison visit from the coupists, especially over this matter?"

Brian sighed and shook his head.

"I could have told all of you fourteen years ago that things would finally head in this direction with the UN. A centralized power like that, sooner or later it will try to take more. It’s Parkinson’s Law, and it’s why we fought. All the signs were there."

"I guess some of us just weren’t ready to read them yet, sir, and besides, some of us still believed in our oaths, not only to the UN but to our respective governments and the USMC as well."

"Maybe we should skip the politics for right now," Tanya interjected quietly, knowing that Justin was leading into the classic argument by Academy personnel who had stayed with the federal government, "and stay focused on the Corps request to the Colonial Fleet."

Brian looked over at her and then back to Justin.

"So you want our help, is that it?"

"Something like that, sir."

"It’s still Brian. We go back a long way together, Justin, in spite of everything else that’s happened.

"I hate to ask this, but I want a few things perfectly clear before I continue. Do I have your oath that all information you receive or observe, if listed as classified, will be kept secret by you unless I personally clear you to release it?"

"I give my oath on that," Justin said quietly.

"Secondly, that whatever information I authorize released to you will be conveyed only to the USMC and to no other individuals, organizations, or governments?"

"I give my oath on that as well."

Brian looked over at Tanya.

"So the old man wanted you in on this too, is that it?"

"Thor asked for Justin, he asked for me as well."

"Then your Bilateral Commission oath still stands?"

"Of course it does, Brian, so let’s get on with it."

Brian paused for a moment and then turned and activated a holo screen behind his desk. The image of a ship from the last attack came up on the screen.

"That’s what hit us," Brian announced. "There are three variations of models. We think one was a flagship; the others are roughly equivalent to your Earth corvette designs, several hundred tons of mass, and there were four that were approximately frigate size, with an estimated mass of around seven hundred tons. If you ask me, that’s awfully light craft to be sending in here like they did. Their damn flagship was in the lead and we intercepted a lot of high-frequency transmissions from it. It’s all gibberish, though, apparently highly encoded, and without a language base to work from our computers can’t crack it.

"It was one of the first ships we took down," Brian continued, "even before they cleared through Jupiter orbit. After that their attack was uncoordinated, and it was essentially a mop up."

"Did you get any parts, any wreckage?"

"They’re out there scouring a couple of hundred billion cubic miles of space right now. Just fragments. It seems that when we finally pop them off, the tendency is for their matter-antimatter fuel pods to rupture. It’s the same problem with our ships—when that stuff cooks off there isn’t much left afterwards."

"We’ve yet to experience the problem," Justin said dryly. The fact that the Colonials had managed to crack the antimatter drive first had given them the decisive lead that ended the war.

"So what do your people with the Corps think about this?"

"Mahan said that the analysis of the Trac attack indicates that it is probably the beginning of a general offensive. They sent twenty-seven ships and look at what they did. If it hadn’t been for our improved military, both yours and ours due to the war, they would have crippled us. We took a hell of a pounding on Earth. I’m authorized to tell you that if we face another strike of forty or more similar ships, our probability projections indicate that we’ll be overwhelmed."

"Is that supposed to be a concern of ours?" Brian asked smoothly.

"That’s a pretty stupid question," Tanya replied hotly.

"Look, Tanya, the war’s still on in spite of what people are saying about peace being signed. Remember, we signed that peace with the old government, and then they were out and those new lunatics are running the UN and rattling the saber. They’ve yet to officially acknowledge the legitimacy of the treaty.

"Earth is the past. The old historical trends that we once studied under Thorsson are coming to pass, the gravity-bound empire being replaced by the new. The Colonies are the future. We showed that in winning the war. It’s a replay of the shifting of the center of power on Earth in the 19th century from the old world to the new.

"Remember too—of the twenty-seven ships that attacked four got through to Earth, but only one made it to Mars. We nailed over three-quarters of them ourselves. Our ships were the only ones capable of scrambling fast enough to get into position."

"I think whoever is out there is tending to see us as being in the barrel together," Tanya replied, "and if they come back it’ll be for all of us."

"Don’t try any of that racial harmony crap on me or anyone else out here," Seay snapped back angrily. "My parents wiped the dirt of Earth off their boots and said good riddance to it. The bureaucracy and the incompetent—or outright sinister—government intervention and waste back there were stifling. The Americans fought their second revolution over that and managed to briefly turn it back, but then it came on even stronger afterwards.

"Both of my parents died settling Mars. I lost an uncle on Titan and lord knows how many other relatives settling the asteroids, exploring the outback, or fighting in the war. As far as I’m concerned Earth is nothing but a sinkhole, giving precious little in return. I hear your damn Luddite Movement back there are even calling for an end to involvement with space outside of Earth orbit. Well, let them."

"The Tracs might change that."

Brian laughed softly. "Oh, they most certainly will."

"What the hell do you think was part of the purpose of the Bilateral Commission?" Tanya interrupted. "Thorsson always said that our Civil War was part of a historical process, but it was not the main show. That’s why he fought so damn hard to keep the destruction under control. He knew that the real threat would come from outside our system, and if we busted each other up too much we’d be easy pickings for whatever was out there. He knew that we would both need each other again, that’s why he set the Commission up."

"The Commission had an agreement with us and the old government on Earth," Seay retorted. "That’s part of the reason Earth’s government fell after the peace—Lin Zhu, that psychotic underling of his, Hassan, and the others claiming that the Corps fought with one hand tied behind its back and that the Corps was glad to let you do the tying."

"I guess you heard about the EDF coup?" Justin asked.

Brian nodded grimly.

"We got the information. That puts your headquarters on Earth directly under their guns and your fleet without the ability to enforce the law anymore. I’m willing to bet that within the month the Bilateral Commission will get kicked out or arrested and then we’ll be fighting again."

"The real threat isn’t each other anymore," Tanya said sharply. "It’s out there," and she pointed towards the image of the Trac ship.

"Hey, Leonov, Bell knows that and I know that, but there’re a lot of other people who don’t. If the coupists take over the fleet we’ll be at war again, and this time it’ll be no holds barred. And frankly, if Earth’s willing to fight us with nukes, sooner or later they’ll win. Free-floating Colonial systems simply wouldn’t stand a chance against that. We have the technical edge with our antimatter fighters but we can’t protect both innocent civilian and military targets all the time . . . there are simply too many of them. Unfortunately, in spite of the Tracs, I still have to keep Earth as my major concern. Remember, we lost one of our Skyhook towers in that Trac strike and the other was damaged. Getting resources off this surface will be a lot tougher now."

"And while we’re squabbling the Tracs will come back and pick up the pieces."

"We’re caught between a rock and a hard place," Brian replied sadly. "Lord knows I wish we could get a united front together."

"That is what I’m here for, in part," Justin interjected. "The attack last week was only the beginning."

"Oh, really? We know your deep-space surveillance is better than ours—I wonder just how much you really do know."

"All right, I got the full briefing before I left and I’m authorized to share it with you."

"But not unless you have to, is that it, Bell?"

Justin smiled. "You cleaned me out in too many games of poker to show my hand from the start."

"Go on, then."

"I studied the briefing in that holo cube I gave you on the way out here. Intel USMC’s been monitoring transsystem activities ever since our first contact with the Tracs forty years ago. They geared up a major operation ten years back called ‘Dark Eye.’ "

Brian leaned forward, his interest obviously stirred.

"You know, that’s one thing we were never able to crack. Oh, we could see the arrays—it was what you were finding out that had us crazy with curiosity."

"We’ve been using visual with up to four kilometer baseline systems on the Moon, along with some deep-placed radio arrays out beyond Pluto’s orbit that you folks never knew about. We think we know at least four systems that are inhabited, the closest one being Procyon only twelve light-years away. The problem is, of course, that whatever data we’ve been picking up is years, sometimes decades old. We have detected, however, several confirmed incidents of high-yield bursts, both atomic and matter-antimatter, on half a dozen different fronts."

"So they’re fighting wars elsewhere?"

"It looks that way. It looks like a pretty chaotic universe out there, with evidence of a number of conflicts. Several years back we picked up two planets in one system suffering massive nuclear and antimatter bombardments, all on the same day. The event actually happened sixty-eight years ago, but it is evidence of one hell of a killing war going on out there.

"What we can say for certain is that while we’ve been having our little squabble back here, there’ve been some damn big wars going on out there.

"Intel believes that the earlier raids here were not part of a coordinated effort. The other encounters were maybe just raiders, freebooting pirates that wandered in, and one of them got his clock cleaned before he could get out."

"You’re not telling me anything new, Bell. Our own people surmised that years ago. Remember, we’ve got the wreckage of the one ship, and if that ship’s their military standard then God help them."

Justin smiled at the little tidbit Brian had just given him. When the war started the Colonials had seized the research facility on Europa where the wreckage of the one Trac ship that had been recovered was stored, and moved it back to Mars. So they had been busy with it, as Mahan figured they would.

"This last one, however, was different," Justin continued. "Either it was part of a freebooter fleet looking to move in and take over, or worse, a reconnaissance in force serving as a prequel to a full-scale attack."

"And Earth Intel believes it’s a recon in force that met more than they bargained for?" Tanya asked.

"Something like that. Anyhow, about the only good thing to come out of this war is that it stimulated a quantum jump in space-based combat systems. The Tracs apparently came in with outdated information regarding our capability and paid the price. This indicates that they were working off some old reports."

Brian nodded thoughtfully.

"We thought about that as well, so you aren’t telling me anything new."

"But do you have the deep-space surveillance capability that we have? If so, I’m requested to ask for a briefing on what you’ve found out."

Brian hesitated for a second.

"No. We were too busy fighting you to budget for that. It most likely cost you billions to build the array on the Moon, and billions more for the system out past Pluto. We just haven’t had the resources. So what do you think they have?"

"Our guess is a fleet with ships numbering in the thousands, based on the scale of the conflict we’ve detected. Like I said, whoever is fighting out there has the capability of annihilating entire systems in a single day."

"That strike, the one that did in those two planets—did you get any evidence of any defense against it? After all, it could have been a low-tech system that got wiped."

"Hard to tell," Justin replied. "We picked up a number of bursts off-planet, some of them at the outer edge of the system under attack, which indicates there was combat off-planet. Brian, there were over ten thousands nuclear or antimatter bursts recorded in one twenty-four-hour period."

"Merciful God," Brian whispered.

"My guess is, whoever hit us came in cocky based on old data and figured we’d follow a normal growth curve, not one accelerated by the war. They figured they’d achieve orbit, take out our defenses and then simply hold the high ground of space until they did whatever it was they decided to do. Well, we wiped them."

Brian nodded again.

"That’s sort of what I figured."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Forward defense," Brian said. "Try and keep them as far back from Mars and the other Colonies as possible."

"And for Earth? You’re the people with antimatter drive, not us. Mahan authorized me to tell you that testing has been completed on our own antimatter drive, though you didn’t hear that from me."

Brian nodded thoughtfully. "We thought you might be on the edge."

"But it’ll be weeks, maybe months before they integrate the system into our fighters, so that still leaves us with our butts up in the air waiting to get kicked."

Brian looked over at Tanya. "Earth can kiss my ass as far as I’m concerned. Your damn government should be here with official representatives, not a remobilized captain without any credentials other than a personal endorsement from the Corps’ Commander. Just what the hell do you think this is?"

Justin looked at Brian angrily and the Admiral’s features softened.

"Sorry, Justin. It’s nothing personal, but I was told to tell you that by my government. But what the hell can you do, what can Mahan do?"

"Mahan sent me here as a representative of the old Corps. He wants you to know that we still know what our mission is and will do it, if needs be, in spite of what our government says and that includes coordinating our defenses."

Brian looked over at Justin with open surprise.

"Is he crazy?"

"No, he’s maybe the only sane one left. Mahan and the fleet know where their duty lies and it’s my job to get that across to you. If we can coordinate our response it might help both sides. They emerged into our sector coming inward towards you first, then shifted towards Earth, I guess when they picked up the higher volume of signal traffic. If it should be from another direction next time we’ll scramble to meet it, and if needs be, will protect Colonial property and lives."

"He’ll get hung if he orders that."

"EDF and the UN might control near-Earth space, but that’s as far as it goes. We’ve talked a lot about oaths, Brian, and we took an oath twenty years ago to defend the innocent. That still stands, no matter who’s side they’re on. Mahan wants to know if you’ll do the same."

Brian sighed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

"If by defending the Colonies that means we help to defend Earth as well, we’ll do it."

"And it just so happens that getting to Earth necessitates going through Colonial space first," Tanya interjected.

"Unless they come in at a right angle to the orbital plane," Brian replied, "but hell, since every other time they’ve come in on a direct track back in towards the inner galaxy, I guess it’ll be the same again."

"Thank you, Brian," Justin said feeling a warm flood of emotion for his old squad leader, who had made his first summer at the Academy a living hell so long ago, and in the process had begun to shape him into a man.

"The problem is, Bell, I’m going to lose a lot of well-trained kids and some damn precious equipment doing this. Your Intel’s most likely figured out by now that we took a bit of damage in the last attack. Think about it—we’d be sacrificing what edge we have over you in this fight. It might give Zhu even more reason to push for a renewal of hostilities if we take losses again like we did last week."

"That’d be madness," Tanya interjected. "It’s time both sides realized our war, at least for the moment, has to be buried if any of us are going to survive."

"He’s right, though, Tanya," Justin said sadly. "Mahan asked me to assure you that the Corps, at least, sees where the real threat is now."

Justin hesitated for a moment.

"I am authorized to tell you that if the UN orders the USMC to attack Colonial property and personnel, civilian and or military, it will refuse the order."

Tanya looked over at Justin with open-mouthed amazement.

"That’s mutiny," she whispered.

"No, it’s survival," Justin replied coldly.

"But what about the EDF?" Brian asked.

"We’ll cross that bridge when we have to. I don’t think it’ll come to that, though. The coupists might be fanatical, but they’re not insane. They know the real threat as well as we do, and until it’s resolved I think they’ll keep that saber sheathed as far as you’re concerned."

Brian snorted disdainfully.

"We’ll see, but we both know that as long as those bastards are in power there’s going to be another showdown some day."

"Let’s hope not. I think once around was enough for all of us."

"So what’s the rest of the message today?" Brian asked, changing the topic.

"I have two requests from Mahan."

"Go on then."

"First, that you share with us the secret of your antimatter ship drive and explosives."

"You’ve got to be shitting me," Brian replied with a cold laugh. "Hell, Justin, the fact that we beat you to production is the only thing that turned the war around in our favor. Give that up and we’ll be at your mercy again. You just said you’ve got your own system online."

"The containment field is rather shaky. Yeah, we can put kids in a seat in front of the engine, but we might lose quite a few."

"Well, we did too," Brian snapped. "We had a seven percent failure rate, per mission, for the first two months until we got it right."

"We know that . . . I think we’re crossing through the same problem. Your input would save a lot of lives, Brian, because we have to go to antimatter now if there’s any chance of fielding a response in the next month or two."

"It’s a valid point," Tanya interjected.

"Just whose side are you on in this?" Brian retorted. "I thought you bastards were supposed to be neutral."

"I’m on both sides," Tanya replied. "In the three years since you achieved containable antimatter reaction, just how many ships have you fitted out? A hundred and fifty, maybe one seventy-five."

Brian looked over at her coldly and said nothing.

"Our intelligence is as good as what both of you have. You lost at least thirty, more like forty percent of those ships last week. The Federal forces have the industrial capability to make those losses good in a fortnight, but it’ll most likely take you the better part of a year. Earth and near-Earth orbital industry still can out-produce the Colonies by ten to one. Antimatter drive ships outfitted with inertial dampening systems are the only craft with any hope of intercepting incoming strikes. Without Earth’s production capability we don’t stand a chance. Don’t let your side commit suicide over this, Brian."

"It’ll be suicide if we give it away."

"The Commission would oversee the transfer of technology. My suggestion would be that only Colonial engineering officers be allowed to operate the systems in-flight. That way, if any hostile act was directed towards Colonial interest they could shut the system down. We’ll also oversee production of such ships on Earth, make sure there’s no secret run, registering the vessels and keeping track of them. We’ll even install failsafe systems that will shut them down if need be."

"Are you authorized to make such an offer?" Brian asked.

Tanya merely smiled in reply.

"I’m not sure how some of our people would react to Colonial officers aboard Federal ships," Justin said quietly. "Academy traditions or no Academy traditions, there are a lot of reservist officers with some pretty hard feelings about it even now."

"You stupid shits, you’re supposed to be on the same side now! Isn’t that what you were sent here for, Bell?"

"I can’t authorize such a transfer," Brian interjected.

"But you could support it," Tanya replied. "And you don’t have months to screw around with this proposal. We might have no time, in reality. With luck it could be weeks, maybe longer. This is a crash program that has to get online immediately, so if you support the idea get it moving. You’ve got to match your knowledge with Earth’s ability to produce the weapons we’ll need. The hell with the new government, it’ll be USMC people flying the machines, and they’ll respect the agreement."

"And if the Tracs don’t come back?"

"Do you really believe that?" Tanya asked.

Brian finally shook his head.

"I can’t authorize it," he said softly, "but I’ll pass the recommendation along. Now what else?" Brian asked.

"Access to the Trac ship. Our Intel suspects that your people are on the edge of getting a replica of it operational. We want to look at it."

Brian went behind his desk and sat down, looking over at Justin and saying nothing.

"Well?"

"Just where the hell did you get that data?"

"I wasn’t told. My guess is we have some people deep-covered in your research facility. I know revealing that might put them in jeopardy, but we had to bring this out into the open."

"I’m not authorized to discuss that with you," Brian finally said.

"God damn it, Seay," Tanya snapped, "get real. It’s a whole new game now."

Brian leaned over and touched a button on his computer console. Seconds later the door into the room opened to reveal two burly MPs.

"Gentlemen, would you escort the lady out of here? She said she needs to take a walk."

"You can’t do this, it’s in violation of the rules . . ."

"To hell with your rules, you’ve been breaking some yourself this morning," Brian snapped. "Now get her out of here."

The MPs stepped in front of Tanya. Justin watched, fascinated, wondering if she was actually going to start a brawl. To his surprise she stood up and stalked out of the room without saying a word, slamming the door shut behind them.

"You know she’ll file a protest," Justin said.

"She always was a pain . . . sometimes I wish you hadn’t saved her life back in your first summer with the Academy."

"The thought’s crossed my mind more than once," Justin said with a grin.

"How about a drink? You look like you could use it."

Justin did not object when Brian pulled a bottle of vodka out from the bottom drawer of his desk, and poured two tumblers full, handing one to Justin.

"To the Academy," Brian announced solemnly, and downed his drink. Justin followed suit.

"All right, what gives with the Trac ship?" Justin ventured, nodding his thanks when Brian refilled his drink. "And if you want, it’s strictly between the two of us—I won’t even carry it back to Mahan."

"Oh, hell, Mahan and I already talked about it on a secured channel yesterday."

Surprised, Justin could only chuckle.

"Along with everything else we just discussed."

"I had a general idea but I needed to hear it from someone I could trust . . . like you, face to face. But for the moment, this is strictly between the two of us. OK?"

"Sure, you got my word on that."

"All right then. Regarding the Trac ship, we’ve built a replica, finished it three months ago." He hesitated for a second. "What Tanya told us about your production of antimatter we suspected was coming, though we didn’t know it’d be this quick. This Trac ship was the ace up our sleeve. There’s only one problem, though."

"What’s that?"

"We don’t know how the damn thing works."

"You’re kidding me."

"No, honestly. We don’t. The moment we snatched it we gave it our highest priority, just below cracking the antimatter question. In fact, some of the stuff we learned reassembling that ship gave us the clues to get the containment fields and thrust systems built. Shit, even without figuring out how they do translight, the project was still worth it for that alone. We covered thousands of trillions of cubic miles of space tracking down fragments the size of a pinhead in our effort to reassemble it and then built a model that worked.

"A lot of the technology is the same as ours. Holo memory computers, the inertial dampening systems, even the lousy toilet, though it seems they do function a bit differently than us. But the damnedest-looking thing of all is what we figure to be the translight device. We just don’t understand it."

"Have you tried it out?"

Brian shook his head.

"It’s the only one we got, and even reassembled it’s still a torn-up piece of junk glued back together again. We’ve built one replica and have started a second, but the decision was made to hold off testing until we have several replicas online."

"There’s no time for that now."

"I know. If your Intel reports are valid, that might be an argument for it."

"So why the secrecy with Tanya?"

"Those Bilateral pains in the ass don’t know a damn thing about this project other than what we want them to know. I’m telling you because I trust you, even if you are, or were, the enemy. With this attack last week I demanded that we test fly our single replica, but no dice. The head of test-flying for the project, in fact the only person who even has half a grasp of how it might work, simply won’t let it go. He claims it isn’t ready yet, and he’s also worried that by testing it we might reveal to the UN what we’ve got. If that happens he’s afraid your side might launch a raid to seize the ship. My government’s left the decision up to him and he won’t budge on it. Now, I could order him to do it, but that headstrong bastard might just tell me to go to hell and quit, and if he did it’d really set us back. That’s why Mahan sent you, because we both agree you might be able to shake things loose. You’re about the only person from the other side I think he might trust."

"And who is it?"

"Matt Everett."

Justin looked at Brian, unable to reply for a moment.

Brian slowly grinned.

"He requested a non-combat assignment just about the same time you quit. Hell, he was our best pilot, and he suddenly refuses to fly. For awhile there we didn’t know what to do with him until somebody thought to assign him as chief test-pilot to the project. Well, the son of a bitch is now running the show and he has final say on everything. He claims we’re at least a year away from a test flight in spite of the emergency, and he also made it clear that this is a Colonial project. So that’s where you come in. I’ll tell you right now I’m not ready to share this project with the UN no matter what. We’ll concede antimatter as long as we have this new ace up our sleeves, Tracs or no Tracs. Mahan’s agreed to that as well and is willing to assure non-interference from the USMC regarding this, but our head honcho at this project needs to hear it. Mahan did ask that we at least allow a USMC observer to get a look-see at the project to see how it might fit in on a defensive strategy. I finally agreed, and thus you got picked.

"I also figure you might be able to shake him loose on things and get that bird out and flying. Hell, when I asked Matt to fly regardless he simply laughed at me. That bastard knows he can’t be fired, he simply is too important."

Justin laughed softly.

"Sounds like Matt."

"Don’t you get it, Bell? Just why the hell do you think your C-in-C sent you out here to me?"

"They said they thought I could do the job."

"Listen, stupid, it’s because I asked for you."

"You?"

"Sure. I sent the request into Mahan hours before the strike even hit. We had it figured out the same as you did, though your Intel confirms it. I want you to go see Everett, get his ass off-center. If your Intel is correct we’ve got to get Trac-comparable ships operational as soon as possible. Holding the high ground is the oldest maxim of war. Sargon the First most likely figured it out five thousand years ago. The high ground today is defense outside our system—otherwise we’ll get fried. If we can get enough of these ships going we could even try forward projection of power, fight them on their home turf rather than with our backs to the wall.

"You were Matt’s roommate for six years and know him better than anyone in this system. I’ve arranged transport to where Matt is right now . . . there’s a jump-jet waiting outside for you."

"So why did you cut Tanya out of the loop just now? She did make some valid points, and let’s face it, we’re going to need the Bilateral Commission to help broker a deal with my government and your government as well."

"Oh, she can go with you, the three of you were one hell of a team back at the Academy. It’s just that I wanted to rattle her cage a bit. You always did let that girl get the better of you."

"Yeah, I guess she’s sort of a weakness of mine."

"Then heaven help you, Bell, heaven help you!"