Guardian (War Angel Book 1) by David Hallquist (best contemporary novels .TXT) 📕

The Chronos-class Saturnine cruisers have been following a path to keep the Moon in range the whole time, ready to fire at cities and habitats. How good is their range? Behind us, Earth and the Moon have shrunken to almost the same size. Are we far enough away yet? Can we risk engaging the Saturnine ships? Are we leaving Luna dangerously exposed as we race off and chase these ships?

We get the orders to call off the chase. Our sensor network has detected what might be the signals of stealth Saturnine craft approaching the Earth–Luna system from a different vector. It might be a decoy to pull us off the cruisers. It almost certainly is. Still, we can’t take the chance that a ship is going to zoom in from the dark of space to attack either world.

It burns. They just keep getting away with this. They murdered Eros, and this time they took out a cruiser—what’ll it be next time?

It’s really tempting to fire a pack of missiles at the fleeing cruiser. I could launch, and then the rest of the squadron would. When the cruisers opened up, the rest of the fleet would be firing, and those Saturnine ships would be glowing clouds of hot gas in minutes. Never mind that I’d get a lot of my own people killed, violate my sworn oaths to the Jovian Republic, get lots of civilian Lunars killed, and be personally and personally responsible for starting the worst war in human history.

That would be about the worst possible thing I could ever do…but still, it’s tempting.

We turn around reluctantly and let the Saturnine ships flee into the darkness, with only a few Lunar missile bombers harassing them on the way out.

* * *

In the end, it was another phantom chase. The Saturnine cruisers, or someone else, seeded a bunch of hidden decoys and jammers long before the fighting started. There’s so much stuff in Earth orbit (or there used to be) that it must have been easy for them to set those up. A lot of stuff is still in orbit, but now it’s mostly as navigation hazards. Most of the decoys went to self-destruct before we could capture them, but we got a few samples of Saturnine tech for the engineers and intelligence people to poke at. Maybe it’ll help.

The Saturnine cruisers of course, got away. Go ahead and run—the solar system isn’t big enough for you to hide in.

Well, maybe it is, but neither we nor the Lunars are going to forget this. Those cruisers aren’t trying to hide, though, they’re still going at full acceleration, bending their vector to follow the alien ship to its destination—Mars.

Finally, we get the chance to return to the host carrier. Our frames are beaten half to pieces and need real repair and resupply—and we pilots are in at least as bad a shape. That’s not the whole reason we’re all getting back aboard the Weston, though. We’re going to follow the cruisers and the alien ship.

The Lunars are going to have to do their best, here. The Marines and their ship are staying behind, along with a couple of our frigates. They’ll have to find a way to keep the peace on Earth. Still, the Lunars don’t have to deal with an organized Terran Navy or Army now, and they probably won’t have to worry about the Saturnine.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, is going to Mars. Well, except Terra and Luna. They’ve had enough.

Will our depleted task force with its old-style Angel frames make a difference in the huge gathering of ships heading toward Mars?

We sure will.

* * * * *

Chapter 9 Through the Darkness

The funeral service was hard—too hard to think about at the time, actually. I remember speaking about my men, and carefully going through the motions, because it had to be done right. For them. Not only for those who died doing their duty, but also for those of us still here, ready to finish the job.

My part in the service as officer was a duty to my men and my ship. I know how to do that. Focus on what needs to be done, no matter what it feels like. One process at a time. Focus. Discipline. As long as I have that duty to focus on and those precise operations to carry out, I can get up there in front of everyone and carry it out flawlessly.

Now, it’s different.

Now, all I’m doing is laying back and staring at the slowly rotating stars on my cabin’s view-screen. I’ve composed the letters to the families, sent my commendation recommendations on up, and talked with their fellow pilots. Now that the battle’s ended, the pressure’s off, and my duties are done…now it all blows up like a reactor that’s lost containment.

There’s nothing more I can do…

But there should be.

There has to be something else I can do. Some way to make it better—but there isn’t, of course. Eight down in my squadron alone, in only a few short days of fighting. What do I say about that?

I expected Commander Rackham to chew me out in the debriefing, and I was ready to take whatever he was going to dish out. I should have had a better pattern when we were on anti-missile defense…I should have cleared the area around the tower faster…I should have neutralized the enemy fire coming from inside the tower quicker…I should have had my people make better use of cover and jamming…did he make a mistake in putting me in command before I was ready? Did I make a mistake in accepting it? I offered to resign.

Surprising me, he seemed sympathetic. He offered me a drink from the flask in his desk and told