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  Dean looked around at the small Recreation, Education, and Community room. Everything was brand new, but it still seemed secondhand to Dean. Their exercise equipment consisted of a few cardio machines and one multi-use universal weight-training device.

  “Chavez, we’ll have to rotate everyone through PT in stages,” Dean said.

  “I noticed, sir. How the hell did we get assigned to this mousetrap?”

  “It was available,” Dean said.

  “But don’t the brass think we’d be of more use against the Kroll? I mean, hell Captain, we the only ones that have fought ’em. Now they gonna send us off to the ass-end of the galaxy like we did something wrong?”

  “Looks like it,” Dean said. “But who knows. Perhaps a quiet tour is just what we need. We’ll have time to train and time to get over our losses.”

  “Best way to get over a loss is move on to the next fight,” Chavez said. “I hate this political bullshit.”

  “Me too,” Dean admitted. “Maybe I could have been more savvy dealing with Chancy’s father.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” the staff sergeant said. “But you would think kicking the Kroll’s ass three times would count for something. Not to mention all them people we saved.”

  “That’s our job. There’s no reward for doing what’s expected of you, Staff Sergeant. We’re Recon.”

  “First in the fight,” Chavez said.

  “Tip of the spear,” Dean replied.

  Chapter 4

  “Tell us about your adventures against the Kroll!” Vice Admiral Anders said in a loud voice, as the entire crew minus Lieutenant Plegg and the XO Harold Hines, who were manning the bridge, sat down to dinner. The mess hall looked more like a Ward Room, with one long table, a small self-service refreshment station, and a pass-through from the Hannibal’s tiny kitchen.

  Dean had never dined with his platoon on board a ship. In every other case, the enlisted specialists had their own dining areas and work spaces. Dean couldn’t imagine Admiral Hamilton dining with privates; her ego simply wouldn’t allow it. But Dean thought the large table with everyone sitting together was a refreshing change. His platoon was all around him, yet he was close enough to the vice admiral to engage his commanding officer in conversation.

  “There really isn’t much to tell,” Dean said.

  “Oh, come now,” Anders replied. “Don’t be modest. You’ve seen the enemy face-to-face. What are they like?”

  “They’re predators,” Dean replied. “Deadly avian creatures.”

  “Birds! Isn’t that outrageous?” the ship’s commander beamed. “Many people once believed the dinosaurs evolved into birds. It’s quite fascinating, really. For centuries, hawks and falcons were trained to hunt small game. Now, they’re hunting us.”

  He sounded like a fanboy meeting his hero at a convention, but Dean noticed the wary looks of his platoon. They didn’t like the way Anders talked about the Kroll, and Dean didn’t blame them. They had seen just how deadly their new enemy was, and there was nothing funny about it—not to the men and women who had fought and seen their friends killed by the Kroll.

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Dean said.

  “How so?”

  “Well, for starters, the Kroll don’t actually do most of the fighting. They have subjugated several other species who serve them and fight for them.”

  “Really? I read the reports, but just assumed you were fighting the Kroll the entire time.”

  “No,” Dean said. “And they consume everything they can. The captured are herded like sheep before being consumed as food. The technology of the people they capture is used to expand their own vessels.”

  “Like the space station in the Alrakis system.”

  “Exactly,” Dean said.

  They were eating small protein wafers that tasted surprisingly good. Dean had eaten plenty of protein wafers, cakes, and bars. The dried protein was used in place of meat and was by itself a tasteless, bland substance that reminded Dean of diet rice cakes. But seasoned correctly and prepared with some skill, the protein bars could be substituted for almost anything from steak to lamb. The wafers Dean was eating tasted a lot like shrimp, and they were served with grits flavored with butter and cheese. Dean knew that anything dairy was reconstituted from a powder, and yet it all tasted fresh.

  “And the reports said they used smaller vessels to capture our ships. Did you know EsDef is manufacturing drones to combat those ships?”

  “Yes, but until they can match the Kroll’s speed, those drones are too vulnerable to be of much use.”

  “How can you know that?” Anders said, his merry attitude slipping just a little.

  “We had them on our last ship,” Dean said. “They were destroyed and we were still captured.”

  “You were captured?” Lieutenant Donika Gretskey asked in astonishment, her Slavic accent making her voice sound less feminine somehow.

  “Our ship was captured,” Dean explained. “The Kroll sent their soldiers aboard, but we managed to repel them. Then we moved into the Kroll vessel and drew their attention away from the ship until she could break free and escape.”

  “Our ship is much faster than the first generation GPVs.”

  “What’s a GPV?” Chavez asked.

  “Gravity Propelled Vessel,” Lieutenant Myers said without looking up from the plate he was hunched over. It was the first time Dean had heard the navigation officer speak.

  “We’re not a combat vessel,” Anders said, as if he were correcting a wayward student. “If we see the Kroll, we will simply outrun them.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Dean said. “But I would strongly suggest we run damage drills and practice getting into the hard-vacuum emergency suits just in case we run into trouble.”

  “Drills are left to my discretion, Captain Blaze. I can assure you, we won’t be anywhere near the enemy. Our first stop is the Faraday system. There’s nothing there but gas miners around the primary planet.”

  “Michael Faraday,” Myers spoke up again, speaking as if he were reading from a textbook. “Born September 22nd, 1791 C.E., died August 25th, 1867 C.E. Was best known for his contribution to the study of electromagnetism and electrochemistry. The Faraday system was named in his honor eighty-two years ago upon discovery of the planet’s unique mixture of gases.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Anders said, sounding slightly annoyed at his navigator. “We’re all aware of the origins of the system’s name.”

  Dean hadn’t been aware of it, and he was willing to bet his platoon had no idea whom the Faraday system had been named in honor of either, but he kept his mouth shut. Myers was already bent back over his food and seemed oblivious to the vice admiral’s rebuke.

  “As I was saying: we have nothing to fear on this tour,” Anders continued.

  “I hope he’s right,” Adkins said quietly. Dean heard him, but he didn’t think the ship’s commander did.

  “It’s the new Recon motto,” Ghost said. “Tuck and run. The butt of the spear.”

  A few of the people around Ghost chuckled, and the conversations around the table that had fallen silent when Vice Admiral Anders spoke up quickly resumed. Dean noticed the commander looked annoyed that his crew preferred to carry on their own conversations rather than just listen to him. Dean knew that many naval commanders seemed to have an inflated sense of their own worth, but Anders appeared to crave the attention and perhaps the adoration of his crew.

  “Captain Blaze,” Anders spoke up. His appetite seemed to have disappeared. “Can I see you in my quarters?”

  “Of course,” Dean said.

  “Only when you’ve finished your meal,” Anders said, spreading his napkin across his plate and getting to his feet. “Take your time.”

  Dean nodded and watched the commander leave. When Anders was out of the room, Emily Harper, Dean’s Fast Attack Sergeant, leaned toward him and whispered.

  “You’re in trouble,” she said in a sing-song chant.


  “Captain’s been called to the principal’s office,” Adkins said with a smirk.

  “Vice Admiral Anders takes some getting used to,” Lieutenant Gretskey said. “But he is fair. You will appreciate him, in time.”

  “You’ve served with him before?” Dean asked the communications officer.

  “Yes, he was the Executive Officer on my last tour,” she said. “We are lucky to have him.”

  Dean wasn’t sure he agreed, but he decided to keep an open mind. In true Recon fashion, he wolfed down the rest of his meal and then excused himself. He carried his plate to the window, where Corporal LaQuita Franklin took it from him. She was a full-figured woman with curly hair that was trimmed close to her skull, and she had almond-shaped eyes that didn’t seem to miss anything around her.

  “Excellent meal,” Dean said. “Thank you.”

  “Sugar, you’re the first officer who has ever thanked me for doing my job,” Franklin said.

  “I try to always take notice when people do things with excellence.”

  “I’m just followin’ my mama’s recipe—as much as I can, anyhow. I’m glad you like it.”

  “You feed us all like this everyday, we’ll have to double up our PT.”

  “Meals is about the only pastime we’ve got on this ship,” Franklin said. “Guess I’ll make it as best I can.”

  “Well, it is appreciated. My name is Dean.”

  “I know who you are, Captain. You’re the first medal of honor winner I’ve met. Seems like your mama raised you right.”

  “I hope so,” Dean said. “See you around.”

  “You know that’s true. Can’t help but see each other on this little ship.”

  Dean chuckled, knowing the cook had a good lay of the land. His platoon was enjoying themselves, and the other crew members seemed happy enough. Dean wasn’t sure how long they had been together on the small escort ship, but he hoped their attitudes indicated a strong leader at the helm. He had his doubts about Vice Admiral Anders, but he had faced the same type of doubts about his own abilities to lead a platoon. And he renewed his vow to give Anders the benefit of the doubt.

  He crossed the concourse and knocked on the vice admiral’s door. It swished open, and Dean was a little surprised to see how large the compartment was. The vice admiral had a study that was larger than Dean’s entire berth. A doorway led to his private quarters, which Dean could see was also much larger than his own. There was privilege of rank, and then there was privilege of command. Dean couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy over his own paltry quarters on board the ship as he stood in the vice admiral’s opulent cabin.

  “Blaze, I don’t want us to get off on the wrong foot,” Anders said. “I know I seem young, but I’ve paid my dues. I was first in my class at OTA. I’ve served on six tours and worked my ass off for every promotion.”

  “I have no doubt, sir,” Dean said.

  “I don’t have a Planetary Medal of Honor, but I have commendations from every tour. My service record is spotless. I cannot say the same for you.”

  “No, sir,” Dean said, starting to feel uncomfortable.

  “Your Medal of Honor affords you certain privileges, but I want us to be allies, not enemies.”

  “Sir, if anything I have done has given you the impression that I’m not one hundred percent in support of your command or the mission we’ve been given, I apologize. That was not my intent.”

  “I know how Recon officers are,” Anders said, dropping into a comfortable-looking chair near a large vid screen that displayed a view from one of the ship’s exterior cameras. “You’re the strong, silent type. I get that. But I’m trying to create a new atmosphere on this ship. One of inclusiveness and equality.”

  “I respect that, sir.”

  “Do you?” Anders asked. “I wasn’t sure. I thought you might open up a bit more about your past.”

  “Sir?” Dean asked.

  “When I asked about the Kroll.”

  “I didn’t mean to seem antagonistic,” Dean said. “It’s just a difficult subject. I lost people both times I faced the Kroll. My platoon took casualties and we barely escaped with our lives.”

  “Alright, we’ll let it go then—but in the future, when I ask you a question, I would appreciate an answer that isn’t so negative in nature. Is that agreeable with you?”

  “Of course, Commander.”

  “Excellent. I have our first assignment. There is a labor dispute on the mining facility at Faraday that has turned violent. We’ll reach the system in four days. Your platoon is going in to put an end to the fighting and get the facility operational again. Whatever you need to complete the mission is at your disposal. Keep me informed of your training schedule, and I’ll ensure the REC facility is yours as needed.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll get that schedule to you tonight.”

  “Excellent. It really is good to have you on board.”

  “Thank you,” Dean said. “We’re all happy to be here.”

  Dean left the cabin and returned to his own tiny quarters, trying not to let himself sink into a state of depression. He had faced the Kroll, been successful on every mission, and even been awarded the Planetary Medal of Honor. Looking around his tiny berth, he couldn’t help but feel like his career had taken a huge step backward. He was a captain in Recon on a tiny escort ship that should have had a lieutenant leading the Recon platoon. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t wanted back with the EsDef brass where the decisions about the Kroll were being made. Surely he was more useful helping to shape humanity’s response to the threat posed by their new enemy than running to backwater gas-mining facilities to oversee labor disputes. His father had dealt with labor unions as a hospital administrator. Dean remembered the stress his father had endured trying to keep his medical facility running and the steady stream of patients that came to the hospital taken care of, while doctors, nurses, and lab technicians went on strike or refused to work until their demands were met.

  He wasn’t looking forward to their first assignment, but he could at least bank on the fact that his platoon would be more than a match for any group of disgruntled laborers they might have to deal with. He would do his duty and wait for the brass to recognize that he was needed elsewhere. After all, what else could he do?

  Chapter 5

  Just like every other tour Dean had been on, his platoon quickly fell into a productive routine. Things were a little cramped on the escort ship, but Dean and Chavez found a way to make it all work. He spent time in the training room with each specialist, giving them the attention they needed to build their skills over the first few days of their journey together.

  The day before they were due to reach the Faraday system, Dean gathered his platoon together for a training session. There wasn’t room for everyone to dress in armor, and the VR equipment didn’t allow them to use omnidirectional treadmills or even replica weapons. Each specialist had a headset and wand with a tiny joystick that controlled the movement of their avatar in the training program.

  “Alright, let’s get started,” Dean said.

  They had cleared the training area to give the entire platoon room and were already standing in an oval, the Heavy Armor Specialists facing the rest of the platoon.

  “Static, Eagle, Pincer, Pistol, Hot,” Dean ordered.

  The Heavy Armor Specialists formed a straight line, the large rectangular shields overlapping to form a barrier as they turned to face Dean in the program. Fast Attack Specialist Emily Harper hurried to the right side of the HA line, and Private Cody Loggins took his position to the left of the hulking Heavy Armor Specialists. Ghost activated his jetpack and flew up to the top of a virtual building, where he took the overwatch position. Staff Sergeant Chavez stood to Dean’s right, while Demo Specialists Robb Landin and Eleanor Tallgrass dropped back behind the rest of the platoon and brought their mortars to bear.

  “Not bad,” Dean said. “Ghost, hold that position. “Concave, Beak, Venom, Engage!”
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  The Heavy Armor line moved from a straight line to a slightly curved formation, while Harper, Loggins, Chavez, Landin, and Tallgrass took up positions just behind the hulking HA warriors and aimed their weapons over the shield wall.

  “Alright,” Dean said, “let’s try some movement. Cheveron, Starboard, Layer, Eye, Safety!”

  The Heavy Armor line formed a V shape, with the Fast Attack Specialists in front of Dean, the Demo Specialists behind him, Chavez on Dean’s left, and Ghost jumping down to take a position on Dean’s right.

  “Move out,” Dean said.

  They started forward, moving at an easy walk. The Heavy Armor Specialists walked backward, using the cameras on their shoulder-mounted plasma cannons to navigate as they stayed in lockstep with one another, moving the V-shaped shield wall in front of the platoon for protection.

  “Weapons hot,” Dean said.

  “Look sharp, platoon!” Chavez growled.

  “Movement ahead,” Owando said in his perpetually cheerful voice.

  “Time to grease some bugs,” Adkins added.

  Before anyone else could reply, the HA Specialists opened fire with their cannons. The plasma weapons fired small capsules filled with gas. Each projectile was equipped with a tiny electric emitter that would fire a spark through the gas chamber upon impact. As the capsule broke apart, the gas would convert to superheated plasma. The cannons had a range of one hundred yards but were most effective from half that distance. As virtual reality creatures converged on the platoon, they were blanketed with superheated plasma.

  “Save some for the rest of us,” Ghost joked.

  “Just doing my job,” Wilson said.

  “Set ’em up,” Carter shouted.

  “And knock ’em down!” Kliner echoed.

  “Alright, enough chatter,” Dean ordered. “We have climbers ahead.”

  They were moving down a wide virtual reality boulevard with buildings of various sizes rising up on either side. The strange, insectile aliens in the training program began to crawl up the buildings, swarming like locusts.

  “Heavy Armor, focus your fire on the ground forces,” Dean instructed. “Everyone else target the enemy on the buildings.”