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“What would you do in the meantime?” I asked her.

“I’d spread out, take up defensive positions, and make sure they don’t get those generators
running again.”

“Then that’s exactly what we’re going to do. Execute the plan, Major.”

She stepped away, calling for her captains. I watched her in action. Kwon came over
to me.

“She’s pretty good,” he said.

“Yeah, I like her style.”

“You think she’s hot in there?”

“What?”

“In that suit. It’s pretty stuffy you know.” He began huffing again, and I realized
I’d been the victim of another of Kwon’s jokes, which generally involved a weak play
on words.

“That’s pretty funny, Kwon,” I lied. “Let’s set up our company on the defensive line.”

We’d retaken about half the station by now—the lower half. The generators were on
the border, and the Lobsters were showing signs they meant to retake them. I realized
there was still time for them to effect repairs and get the main laser batteries operating
before Sloan’s reinforcements arrived. If they had a decent supply of constructive
nanites, all they had to do was retake the generator rooms and pour on a generous
layer of the hard-working little bastards. They knew no loyalty, and would patch up
the system within an hour or two. I relayed these thoughts to Reza, who agreed immediately.

“We have to hold this line, sir,” she said, running a gauntleted finger across the
tablet we were both using. Fortunately, the device was built to withstand this sort
of treatment and responded with a red line slashed across the map. The line bisected
the station neatly, splitting top from bottom.

We organized our troops accordingly, and our numbers swelled by three more companies
before the enemy hit us. This time, they didn’t come at us via the central shaft.
That would give us too great of a range advantage, as they would have to advance into
our guns. Instead, they used the smaller side passages, stairways and Jefferies tubes.

“They are even coming up out of the drains, sir!” shouted Kwon, who was taking in
contact reports.

“Hold positions. Kwon, let’s set up our company as series of relief platoons. If the
enemy breaks through, we’ll run a fresh platoon to that spot and patch the hole.”

It was an old game plan, and we knew the drill well. It wasn’t long before our services
were needed. “Breakthrough in Generator Room Two, sir!” Kwon reported.

I signaled a platoon and they galloped away. They were all Centaurs in this group.
I frowned after them. “Let’s follow up with a full squad of humans,” I said.

“Good idea, sir,” Kwon said.

The good thing about Centaur troops was their fast feet. They made it there much sooner
than we could. But they were stunned by the enemy numbers. The Lobsters kept pushing,
having burned holes through the walls.

I arrived and began firing immediately. I spotted an enemy gutting a pinned Centaur.
I shot a long burst, burning away all eight of its scrabbling feet. The Lobster floated
away, arching and flipping. Stabbing down with its claws, it grabbed the Centaur’s
neck and tried to finish the job. I put a focused beam into its head area, and it
finally seized up. I advanced, but the Centaur was already dead.

Heavy fighting went on all around us. Kwon was there, beaming and backing up. Soon
we stood with our backs together in the midst of the smoky generator room.

“Sir,” he said, “we need more troops.”

“No time, we have to pull back.”

We retreated as a fresh wave of enemy troops spilled into the room. We’d lost one
out of three rooms.

The fighting began then at each of the generators. In each case, the results were
a fierce, pitched battle. I contacted Major Reza.

“We’re in trouble down here,” I told her. “I want you send a full company to each
of the three big generator rooms. We have to hold them as isolated pockets. I don’t
think we have the numbers to maintain a firm line across the entire station.”

She didn’t like it, but she obeyed. With an additional company at my back, we pressed
them back out at Generator Two. It was ours again.

There was a lull in the fighting. I looked around at the mess. There had to be a hundred
bodies in sight, and more in every adjacent hallway and storeroom. We were lurking
in a smoky haze now, shutting off our suit lights and setting up lanterns here and
there to see by. Motion detectors hummed and pinged, waiting.

The next rush was worse than the first. The only generator they’d ever managed to
capture was Generator Two, so maybe they thought we were the wimps. In any case, they
pushed us hard. After ten minutes of sniping and crawling, I realized they’d won.
We’d lost too many men, and my suit had already clamped down on my right arm, taking
it off at the elbow. It didn’t feel too good, but it went numb at last when the nanites
were done.

I switched my projector to my left hand and continued burning swathes into the darkness.

“We have to fall back sir,” Kwon said.

He sounded funny, and I looked for him in the darkness and dust. I found him facedown
on the floor. He was breathing, but not moving. I grabbed him by an ankle, letting
my projector fall and dangle by the power cord.

“Fall back!” I shouted. “Fall back toward the central shaft!”

A close circle of marines came with me. The enemy threw a shower of grenades. The
survivors on our side fired and threw some back. There were flashes, booms and flares
of brilliant light everywhere. I became confused, uncertain where I was or where I
was going. I stuck with the group and kept dragging Kwon.

We backed up into a narrow passage. Every time the squad I was with paused to fire
back at the advancing enemy, I let go of Kwon and fired with them.

We had almost reached the central shaft, when I heard a chiming in my helmet.

“Colonel? Are you there, Colonel?”

It was Major Reza. “Yes,” I said. “We’ve taken a lot of casualties and we’ve been
pushed back out of Gen Room Two.”

“Roger that,” she said. “Sir, the enemy is behaving strangely. They’re pulling back
here at the central shaft. Are they still attacking you?”

I leaned against a wall and checked Kwon. He was unconscious and had been in that
state for some time. He was breathing, but his pulse was thready. He had several wounds,
I wasn’t sure where all of them were. I wondered if he would make it.

I struggled to make sense of what Reza was saying.

“Major, they aren’t hitting us at the moment. But I’m sure they’re reorganizing for
the next push.”

“No sir, I don’t think so. The reason I’m asking about your position is I think you’re
in the last spot they hit. They’re quiet or retreating on all other fronts.”

I frowned into the gloom. “Send me some relief then,” I said. “We’ll hold here.”

We waited tensely in the dark. I had eighteen men and six Centaurs. The Centaurs had
eyes that rolled in their visors. I didn’t blame them for being scared. They were
becoming an endangered species aboard my battle station.

Finally, after what seemed like a half-century, a fresh platoon showed up. I had them
take Kwon and the rest of our severely wounded to the back of the lines. I was surprised
to learn that we
had
lines again. The enemy had inexplicably halted their attack and fallen back on every
front.

Cautiously, I advanced with my new platoon into Generator Room Two again. It was empty.

Major Reza called me again. I answered, and her next words stunned me.

“Colonel? I have a new contact, sir. It’s the Lobsters—they want to talk.”

-42-

After talking to the Crustaceans for several minutes, I learned something new about
them: they weren’t like the machines. They weren’t even like the Centaurs or the Worms.
They were more like us humans than I’d suspected.

Their commander had carefully calculated his odds, and found them poor. He’d counted
our ships, our guns and our men. He knew a relief fleet was on the way. He knew that
my force of assault troops had killed a large number of his troops and taken half
the battle station. He also knew that he could not hope to hold against the storm
that was sure to come in the following hours.

Unlike the Centaurs with their honor, the Worms with their ferocity, or the machines
with their vicious fight-to-the-last programming, the Crustacean commander didn’t
want to die. He contacted me and negotiated terms. By the time Sloan and his men dropped
on the exterior, we’d made arrangements to disarm and capture all the alien troops.
The commander had asked that he and all his troops be allowed to return home.

I thought about it. There was a lot we could learn from keeping them as prisoners.
But then again, if I hoped to weld a peace with this species in the future, keeping
them indefinitely would not improve their attitudes toward me. I knew I might be able
to give them up later in some sort of a prisoner exchange. But such circumstances
were rare in space combat. Usually, the losing side died—all of them.

So, I gave their commander a lecture about biotic solidarity and let him go. He listened,
because he didn’t have any other choice, then told me I was intellectually inferior
and disconnected.

I shook my head and marveled as I pulled off my headset and lay my head back on a
pile of nanocloth. I fantasized about the warm shower I planned to take when I got
back aboard
Actium
and wondered why the Crustaceans were the way they were. I guessed they couldn’t
help it. They were cantankerous, huffy intellectuals and there was probably no way
to ever change that.

When they’d finally left the battle station, we found Commander Welter. He’d made
his last stand with a dozen comrades in the backup-bridge. As far as we could tell,
the battle had ended for him and his crewmen hours ago, while we were just entering
into the station to retake it. He’d never had a hope of survival, as even if I’d known
where he was, I couldn’t have fought my way down to his position in time.

Seeing Welter lying there, dead on the floor with his guts burnt out of his open suit,
I felt a surge of anger. I regretted letting the Lobsters go free. It took a full
minute for me to regain my composure. Just a weeks ago he and I had chased the enemy
out of this battle station, but today they’d come back and gotten their revenge.

“I hereby name this structure Welter Station,” I told everyone present. I then relayed
the message out over the general override channel.

I’d never given the battle station a name up until this point, partly because it was
the only such structure we had. But I felt Welter had earned the honor, and I thought
it likely we would build more fortifications like this one in the future.

* * *

Three days after the liberation of the battle station, I received a message. These
had been tense days, during which we watched and listened at every front. When I heard
a message had come in from Kerr via the rings, I hurried to receive it. I requested
a hardcopy in my quarters, and rushed down the passageway, bouncing in my haste. The
low grav of the ship allowed me to take leaps as high as I felt like, but pushing
off too hard with one’s feet often resulted in a knock on the head. Today, I was ducking
as the ceiling came shockingly close, then pumping my next leg again to take another
tremendous stride.

I pulled the message out of the tray in my quarters, and already I was frowning. It
was only a single page.

We whooped ‘em, Riggs! We took them all, you cagey bastard. I’m sure you thought the
Empire would fall, that we couldn’t stand up against a Macro fleet without the amazing
Kyle Riggs at the helm. Well, you were wrong, boy!

Sure, we’ve got a few bruises. Who needed Pakistan or Italy, anyway? The fallout over
India was the worst, but we’re still here! There were plenty of provinces they never
touched.

And in case you’re considering finishing up what the Macros started with a follow-up
attack, I want you to know you won’t get through, either. We’re ready, and we’re still
on our feet. Go ahead and give it your best shot.

-General Kerr, Imperial Forces, April 11th

I read the message twice. I put it down, paced around the cabin, then read it again.
I shook my head. I hadn’t wanted Earth to be hurt. I’d taken a terrible gamble, I
realized that now. I should never have let the machine fleet through intact. On the
other hand, I knew if I’d chosen to fight the Macros toe-to-toe out here on the frontier,
I probably would have lost.

As a human, I owed it to the rest of humanity to defend them against the Macros. Maybe
I could have stopped that armada entirely. At the very least, I could have weakened
it and saved lives. Possibly millions of lives.

So, why hadn’t I done so? Why hadn’t I made the ultimate sacrifice, the sacrifice
every soldier knows is in the contract when he signs on to defend his people?

It had been too galling, I decided. The idea of fighting for Crow as a patsy, as a
chump set up to take the beating his fleet had earned. To die for Crow’s Empire, even
though I didn’t want it to exist. I’d chosen not to do it, and that choice had caused
untold damage to my homeworld.