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  Tanaka disappeared from the holostage. Jack turned and walked toward the doors, then stopped next to the command chair. He looked up to Pretorius.

  “You should join us on the ground,” Jack said. “When was the last time you had any shore leave?”

  Captain Pretorius stopped and looked down at Jack, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Captain doesn’t get shore leave, Jack.” He looked back to his work. “I’ll be stuck on this ship until I die. I’ve got engine trouble, stability field problems, and I’m shorthanded across every department on the Scorpio. The hull composite is peeling off around the drive section, the forward section is so pitted from collisions with micro asteroids in that stellar void I’m surprised that the command deck isn’t an open-air deck by now. It’s only the paint on the name banner that’s holding the forward section together. I’m going to be busy for the next couple of hundred hours getting the old tank back into shape.”

  Pretorius looked down at Jack with a shake of his head. “It must be bad if I am complaining to a Marine major about ship operations. Get down to the planet and make your report. Hope you have a nice visit. Maybe we can all take a bit of shore leave soon.”

  Jack exited the command deck and made his way down the long corridor, finally coming out into the deserted halls. A crewman hurried along a corridor here or there, and at one point, a maintenance crew was stripping a wall-mounted console, but otherwise, all the Scorpio’s crew were at their stations and the corridors were quiet, empty, deserted. Jack turned a corner and slid down the handrail of a stairway to the deck below.

  Jack could navigate his way around this ship blindfolded. He had first come aboard as a Marine recruit, fresh out of training, the sounds of his first battle still ringing in his ears. The ship had quickly become his home, but with humanity’s displacement from their former planets, the fleet itself had become homeless. They had wandered, protecting the immigrant humanity for a very long time. But maybe the fleet had found a new home. Maybe this super terrestrial around the blue giant in the newly-named Scorpio System was the home they’d been hoping for, searching for.

  Jack stepped up to the door of his small office on the Marine deck. The door slid aside but jammed halfway. The Scorpio had taken a beating during the evacuation and was behind on low-level maintenance issues, like the door to the battalion major’s office. He shoved the door aside enough for him to step through.

  On a small desk near the back of the room sat a holostage console. He quickly opened the holofile of the Scorpio’s battalion, giving him access to all battalion information, from equipment and supply lists to personnel records. Jack had it all at his fingertips.

  He opened the personnel file, and the holofile showing all battalion personnel. It was not a long list.

  This battalion had been reduced from a force over four hundred strong to a current complement of just a few squads. Fewer than half of his Marines were veterans of the Chitin War. They had also defended the fleet as it battled across space, pursued by Devex warriors and Skalidion fighter swarms. They were battle-hardened, experienced troops, experts with their weapons and equipment. Jack knew many of them by name, having been with them from the start. But of the sixty available Marines, over half were new recruits, volunteers hastily trained and equipped in an effort to boost their numbers.

  Jack had trained many of his replacements himself and was impressed with their enthusiasm and determination, but many were either too young or too old, and all were too inexperienced. They could only go so far on enthusiasm. Training was the key, and Jack had been unable to give sufficient training in hastily-assembled VR training suites aboard the civilian transports.

  A lack of training would inevitably lead to disaster on an active operation. Trained Marines were able to respond to deadly threats in an orderly and practical way. Inexperienced Marines could panic, maybe even run instead of facing the threat. It was not only dangerous for the individual, who would be separated from his unit and become even more vulnerable, it was also a deadly threat to the squad or company in the field. If they could not rely on every Marine to do their job and stand their ground, then whole squads could be lost. Individual Marines fought battles, but only Marine squads could win them.

  Jack flicked through the list. One or two of the new recruits had Jack’s confidence. Only those that he had seen in training and had the qualities that would serve them best on an active operation were selected to join his ground team. Several veterans were selected as well, to add some steel to the spine of the ground force.

  Now Jack’s concern turned to the Scorpio. With most of the Marines off-ship, the Scorpio would be vulnerable. The Fleet Marines were not only the fleet’s attack force, they were also its defense. The Scorpio would need Marines aboard to ensure she was protected from attack.

  Although the fleet was in a quiet region of space, and no enemy ships had been seen for weeks, danger could come at any moment and from any quarter, either from attacking aliens or from within. It had already been proven that there were people in the fleet itself who, for whatever reason, might attack the Scorpio.

  As battalion major and the highest-ranking Marine aboard the Scorpio, it was Jack’s duty to ensure the safety of the captain and the command deck crew, and to secure vital systems up and down the ship. A few raw recruits would be poorly suited to the task. Many of the recruits had only been aboard the Scorpio for a few weeks, a handful more for only a couple of days since completing their insubstantial Fleet Marine training. They were so green they hardly knew their way from the Marine deck to the Marine hangar. Jack had found recruits wandering the corridors of the Scorpio, apparently lost or looking for the mess hall or the gym. Others, civilians until recently, were simply sightseeing, walking around the destroyer and marveling at her size and power. After months aboard a cramped and overpopulated civilian transport, the Scorpio must have looked like the most sophisticated ship ever. Jack knew the Scorpio was battered and decaying, but next to the evacuation ships, she was a wonder.

  “Just make the call,” Jack told himself as he pressed his fingers into his forehead and closed his eyes. Streams of names and numbers from the holofile still burned on the back of his retina. He was being indecisive, and Jack knew that in the field an indecisive officer was more dangerous than a bad officer. He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. “Just pick your team, Jack.”

  “The joys of command?”

  A voice behind him made Jack spin around in his chair, a voice with an insolent and mocking tone that he knew well.

  Sam Torent stepped into Jack’s office through the partially-open door. As he pressed past, the door shut hard and slammed against the frame, rattling the thin walls of Jack’s little office.

  “Sam, you are welcome to call in any time, but I’m a bit busy right now.”

  “So I heard,” Sam said, sitting on Jack’s desk, blocking the view of the holofile. “Looks like we found a new home, and you’ll be the first one there. Maybe we’ll name the planet after you.” Sam grinned.

  Jack leaned back in his seat and looked up at his old friend. Sam Torent and Jack at been together since day one of training. They had not started out as friends, and Jack was never sure if they were going to end that way. Sam was the bravest, most determined, and ruthless Marine under Jack’s command. He was essentially Jack’s righthand man, and Jack could not imagine life in the Marines without him.

  “So when do we leave?” Sam said.

  Jack looked around Sam at the holofile and all the names that were too unfamiliar. He would have no problem picking Sam for his team on any other day.

  “You aren’t going, Sam.”

  He laughed, his mouth open wide, as he looked at Jack. “Yeah, right. Of course not. Jack Forge is going to do it singlehandedly. When do we leave?”

  “I’m not joking, Sam. I need you on board the Scorpio. I’ve got sixty Marines under my command. I am going to survey a landing site on a previously-uncharted planet. And I’m responsible for the
security of the Scorpio. I can’t be in two places at once. Fortunately, I’ve got you.” Jack stood up and patted Sam on the shoulder.

  Sam scowled.

  “You are not leaving me up here while you get to run around on the planet. I have been stuck on this ship for too long! The last time I was on a planet—”

  “We nearly got killed by a pack of predatory aliens,” Jack laughed.

  Sam laughed too. “You nearly got killed.” Sam poked Jack hard in the shoulder. “And if I hadn’t been there, you would have had your head chewed off your shoulders by one of those beasts.”

  Jack nodded, remembering how close he’d come to those snapping jaws.

  “If I encounter anything like that down there, I’ll be sure to let you know. But until I do, you will take command up here. I am assigning a few veterans to the ground force, but the bulk of my force will be made up of new guys. Maybe some time in the field alongside some veterans will bring them along a bit.”

  “If you are leaving experienced guys up here, they know how to cover the Scorpio. I’ll have nothing to do while you run around on the planet.”

  “Yes, that’s about the gist of it,” Jack said. He pushed Sam off his desk. “Call it the joys of command.”

  Sam nodded slowly and then looked at Jack, a contrite and acquiescent expression on his rugged features.

  “Aye, Major, sir,” Sam said and delivered a mocking salute, clearly dissatisfied with his assigned duty.

  “Don’t worry, Sam,” Jack said, shoving him toward the office door. “If all goes well, we will all be down there before too long. I’ve seen the initial data for this world, and it’s definitely the best candidate for a base, at least for a temporary settlement before we move on into the region. Once I secure the landing site, I’ll post you to the planet the first chance I get. But for now, pick your teams carefully. Remember your duty to the Scorpio. You need a Marine guard on the command deck, a guard at the drive room, and make sure you have a mobile guard on the primary corridors. Don’t forget to rotate your people and make sure they have some downtime. Make sure you get some rest too, Sam. I don’t want you spending one watch on the command deck and then the second at the drive room before patrolling the entire ship yourself on the third. Use your people, use your resources, cover the ship, and make sure it’s here when I get back.”

  “If you get back,” Sam said with a grin. “And if you do, who is to say I am going to let you back on board, you kravin’ scroat.”

  Nowhere else in the Fleet Marine Service would a subordinate speak to their commanding officer in such a disrespectful way, but Sam was not just Jack’s second-in-command; he was Jack’s oldest friend, and when they were alone, rank was forgotten and Sam would speak his mind. Jack often thought it was inappropriate for him to let Sam get away with the way he spoke, but Sam always behaved properly when they were in the company of other Marines. Behind closed doors, Jack was happy to let Sam call him anything he wanted. As long as he did his job, which he always did, Jack had no problem.

  There were other Marines currently in the service who had been in the service since before the evacuation, since before the Chitin War. They would never accept that level of dissent from a subordinate. But Jack had never wanted to be a Marine. He was an outsider himself in many ways.

  An alarm sounded on Jack’s desk, a gentle chirp letting him know that a message was coming from the command deck. The image of Captain Pretorius appeared.

  “Jack, my boy, we are coming up on the Scorpio System. We will be in orbit around the terrestrial planet shortly. You’ll be able to make your landing soon. Pretorius out.”

  Jack turned to Sam. “I’ll send the holofile showing your split of the battalion to your ident chip and let you assign teams and guard duties. I need to muster my ground force and get everyone kitted up.”

  “Is that your way of telling me to get lost?” Sam said.

  Jack folded his arms and took a breath. Sam was always challenging him, but Jack knew that he was one of the best, if not the best, Marine in the entire service, and Jack could forgive Sam his rough edge.

  “Yes.” Jack nodded again. “Now get out of my office.” Jack gave Sam a final shove toward the door.

  The door slid open with an uncharacteristically harsh thunk. Both looked at it suspiciously.

  “That door is dangerous,” Sam said. “Someone could lose a hand in that thing.” He grinned at Jack and held up his Mech hand, an alien technology prosthetic that had replaced Sam’s flesh and bone arm.

  “War is hell,” Jack said in an offhand, expressionless tone.

  Sam gave Jack a casual salute with his dark Mech tissue hand and then darted through the door before it decided to slam shut.

  The door slid shut the moment Sam was standing in the corridor outside, leaving Jack alone in his office. He sat down in front of the holofile and looked through the names he was taking with him down to the surface: Squad Leaders Gilchrist, Heaton, and Lane, along with their respective squads.

  Jack didn’t know a single one of them personally.

  He opened a message to the selected group of Marines and sent a brief muster order.

  “Attention Marines. This is Major Forge. Assemble on the hangar deck immediately in full tactical gear. Forge out.”

  Jack stood up from his desk. The holofile shrank away and disappeared. The enthusiasm and excitement for exploring a new world was overshadowed by the apprehension of taking a group of undertrained recruits to the surface. Jack knew he would have to be his absolute best to ensure discipline and a safe return for his entire group.

  Jack left his office and walked toward the battalion locker room, only a few short corridors from his office. This section of the ship was buzzing with Marines dashing this way and that, some in their PT gear, others in their fatigues, some exiting the Marine supply store in their tactical suits with pulse rifles over their shoulders and helmets under their arms.

  Jack walked through the locker room to his own alcove and equipment locker. He grabbed his tactical suit and pulled the familiar suit on easily. It sealed and closed over his body like a skintight glove. It was durable, yet light and flexible, and it could take a Fleet Marine pulse round at close range, dissipating the energy over the surface before channeling it harmlessly away. It could withstand both high temperature and high-pressure environments, or even the freezing cold vacuum of space. With onboard medical packages, thruster units, and local grav field generators, it was a powerful piece of Marine kit.

  Jack grabbed his helmet from the little shelf above his locker, as well as the pulse pistol from its little holster in the unit and checked the power pack. Fully charged, loaded, and primed. Jack slapped the pistol into his hip holster. The suit took it from his grip and held it neatly in place. Jack walked over to the rifle rack. He reached out with his left hand as he walked past, a pulse rifle sliding out and into it. Slinging the strap over his left shoulder, helmet under his right arm, Jack marched out of the Marine locker room and across to the hangar. Fully kitted, fully equipped, and ready for action.

  Jack was ready for anything.

  2

  The chatter from the Marines died down slightly as Jack walked onto the deck, his footsteps echoing inside the hangar. The deck was large enough to accommodate enough tac boats for each company of a fully-manned battalion. Spaces for thirty-six tac boats were marked out next to the grids for the three companies of the Scorpio’s battalion. Now the hangar was virtually empty, apart from the few remaining tac boats and the three squads Jack had selected for his mission.

  The Marines stood in a loose formation chatting amongst themselves. They fell into a more orderly formation when Jack stepped up in front of them, but the chatter continued.

  Jack looked at the group. Some were at the position of attention, others standing casually, and too many were talking, ignoring that Jack had walked in. No doubt enthusiasm and excitement for the upcoming mission had taken control of their minds and their mouths. Jack saw a Marine her
e or there tug at their fellows and whisper for them to come to order.

  “Squad leaders, step forward,” Jack said casually, quietly, relaxed.

  Three Marines stepped forward from their squads and stepped up in front of Jack. Jack looked at each of them in turn. One looked serious, one looked far too intense, and the third had an arrogant sideways grin.

  “Names?” Jack said. He heard the volume of the Marines in the squads in loose formation rise again once Jack’s attention was focused on the three squad leaders in front of him.

  “Gilchrist,” the serious one said.

  “Heaton,” one said through his smug little grin.

  Jack looked at the third. He was stuttering, his mouth moving, but no coherent sounds were making it out. How this Marine made it to squad leader when he couldn’t even get his own name out was a mystery to Jack.

  “Lane. Owen Lane, sir,” the third Marine said finally.

  The noise of the three squads grew and was now quite loud. Any formation had completely dissolved, and the three squads appeared to be milling around as one crowd. Jack invited the three squad leaders to step a little closer.

  “You are squad leaders.” Jack looked at each of them, and they nodded in agreement. “But I don’t see any Marine squads here, just one crowd of ill-disciplined and ill-trained rookies. Assemble my squads in good order this instant or I will fire each of you and find a squad leader who can maintain discipline.”

  Jack spoke quietly, slowly, and deliberately, and with a wave of his hand, he sent the three squad leaders back to their squads.

  Heaton walked over to the crowd waving his hands above his head. He spoke with an amiable tone.