“Roger that, Five-two. Same here. I think we’re attracting a little too much attention up here.”
“Shit! Another hit! Let’s get the hell down on the deck before they catch us with a fuckin’ golden BB.”
They went weightless again for several long seconds, before a solid kick through the deck caught Jack hard in the seat of the pants. The nausea he’d felt after the two-hour run from L-3 was returning, and he desperately hoped he wasn’t going to be sick inside his suit. He’d heard too many stories of people drowning on their own vomit after getting sick while suited up.
Then the deck canted sharply, and the thrust increased. “Picking up some dust, here! Fifteen…ten…five…contact light! Throttle down!”
With a heavy thump, the LSCP hit the ground. Immediately, the Marines began unbuckling their harnesses and collecting their weapons. The lock at the aft end of the cargo module opened, and the first squad of twelve Marines began filing in. Jack became aware of a fairly regular thump-clang against the starboard side of the craft. It took him a moment to decide that someone out there was popping small-arms fire at the spacecraft.
“This,” he said to himself as he began filing aft toward the airlock, “must be what they mean by a hot LZ.”
“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, kid,” a tall, black sergeant named Matthews said over Jack’s headset. “It gets better!”
He took a deep breath. “I can’t fucking wait!”
Captain Robert Lee
USS Ranger
0101 hours GMT
“If the Marine assault down there fails,” Avery said, “we have no other defense against the enemy AM ship. None!”
Despite the hard words, Avery seemed to be wavering. Rob had the gut feeling that man wasn’t a coward, but that he was close to paralysis over making a decision that could screw the mission…and end his career in the process.
“You will considerably improve their chances if you take the Ranger in.” Rob waited an uncomfortable beat before adding, “Sir.”
“Excuse me,” David Alexander said, floating headfirst into the crowded compartment. “I heard the shouting. Mind if I join you?”
“This area is restricted!” Avery snapped. “Authorized military personnel only!”
“Fine. But I suggest, Colonel, that you order the crew to take us down. The government shipped me all the way out here at considerable expense so I could take a look at any alien ruins at Tsiolkovsky. Your superiors aren’t going to be happy if you just loop me around the Moon and take me home!”
“That is none of your concern! I have to keep the Ranger intact, in case the attack fails!”
Seventy-five kilometers.
Alexander jerked a thumb at Rob. “Your people have to stay polite, Colonel. Military protocol and all. They also have to watch what they say to the news media. Me, I don’t have that worry. Seems to me that Triple-N might be real interested in a story about a Marine colonel who left his people on the ground without adequate space support. And the wounded. You’re making them wait for three days while transports come out from Earth?”
“Damn you, Alexander!…”
Rob saw Avery’s face reddening, saw the clenched fists. For a moment, he thought the man was going to attack the archeologist. Worse, Alexander’s attack was stiffening Avery’s resolve.
Maybe, though, if Avery had a soft way to come down…
“You’re right, Colonel,” Rob said. “It’s your call. But let me say this before you decide. More military leaders have been damned for doing nothing than were ever damned for doing something!”
Avery swung his head to stare at him. He seemed about to say something, then to think better of it.
“If our people win down there, you’re going to look damned silly…unless there are wounded we could have pulled out. Leaving them would be criminal. And…one more thing.”
“And that is?”
“We’re Marines. We don’t leave our own!”
Avery opened his mouth one more time, then closed it with a snap. Turning sharply, he slapped the captain of the Ranger on the shoulder. “Okay, Commander Kieffer. Take us down!”
“Yes, sir!” Kieffer cast a glance back over his shoulder at Rob and the civilian. “You two gentlemen, grab some deck and hang on. This is gonna be rough!”
“Firing sequence laid in,” the pilot said. “Range to target thirty-six kilometers. On your command.”
“Shit, that’s tight! Okay, we’ll go in five…four…three…two…one…ignition! Deorbit burn commence!”
The deck caught Rob hard on his legs and the seat of his pants. Carefully, he lay down as the acceleration increased, climbing to two Gs…then a bone-rattling three.