Eve Berg

Location: North American Eastern Seaboard, Smokey Mountains, United Commonwealth of Colonies

“Come on, Coop,” Eve sprinted through the mountain bunker and toward the shuttle bay. “Make a hole!”

A squad of grunts was marching through the hall, on their way to nowhere important, as she came barreling around a corner. Most got out of the way quick enough, but a PVT in the back must have had his head up his ass. The man was big, in full scales, weapon slung across his chest, and that didn’t make a difference when she shoulder-checked him. You could hear the air rush out of the PVT’s lungs as he was flung backward, across the hall and into the wall. He crumpled like a rag doll. His squad mates gathered around him, yelling at her things they shouldn’t say to an officer or a woman. They didn’t know much about the black stripes on her CMUs, and she really didn’t care she’d steamrolled the guy. She rushed on.

The bay opened up and spread out before her. The Spyders were still lined up wingtip to wingtip, but there was still plenty of room for what remained of the force sent out to rebuff the enemy. Most were on their asses, their helmets off, pouring water over their heads. Fighting made you sweat, but fighting an enemy that used lasers tended to turn it up a few degrees.

Her eyes ignored the grunts on the ground and gravitated toward the six-meter MOUNT near the door. It was standing there lifeless, dead, with a big fucking hole in its gut.

Tears annoyed her eyes as she surged forward. There was a group of techs, medics, and miscellaneous soldiers gathering around the mech; but they parted at her approach. The first thing she smelled was blood.

The coppery tinge to the air made her stomach flip; not because she was unaccustomed to it, but because of what it represented. “Report, sergeant,” she found the nearest NCO and demanded answers.

“Wha . . . ma’am,” he nodded to her. “It’s shot to shit and we’re trying to open it, but some stuff is fused.” A torch lit up, temporarily blinding her, and then sparks started to shoot around them as one of the techs went to work cutting into the armor. It wasn’t a quick process, and the smell of smoldering metal, singed circuitry, and the ever-present blood made several back away from the MOUNT for a moment to collect themselves.

“You better be alive, you bastard,” she muttered to herself.

Then, like the universe answering her prayer, “Fuck! Easy with that thing!” Coop roared from inside the MOUNT like a hungry bear awakening for hibernation.

“We’ve almost got it open, sir,” the tech informed.

“Good, because you’ve cut everything up from out there and nothing fucking works anymore,” Coop growled back.

With a final hiss, the torch finished its job and a section of armored plating fell away. The MOUNT wouldn’t be usable for some time, but the techs would get it operational again. They’d opened a section into the womb itself.

“Let’s get him out,” the tech ordered, reached in, and nearly toppled over as he yanked.

His hand came out holding a blackened, severed foot.

“Ahhhhh!” Coop roared from inside.

“Get him out!” Eve yelled, bodily pushing people aside to get to the opening. “Easy, Coop. I’m here.”

“It fucking hurts! Damnit, I’ve already had that foot regrown once,” he cursed as she grabbed ahold of his contorted body and started to shimmy him out.

“Medics get your kits ready. He’ll need fluids if nothing else,” she ordered. “Someone notify sick bay they have an urgent critical incoming. They’ll need to clean up his wound and start a new grow on his foot. He’s essential personnel. We can’t have him sitting out this fight.”

People rushed to obey her orders as Coop’s head appeared in the hole. He looked like death, which was probably better than she expected. Despite his alertness, his body was still in a state of shock. Only pure will and adrenaline were keeping him going at this point. He’d crash soon, and then it would be up to her to get him treatment.

“I came back,” he mumbled, his speech slurred.

“He’s going into shock,” she relayed as the medics mustered around her.

“I’m fine,” he replied as his eyes rolled back into his head and his body went limp.

“Christ, lose some weight, lard ass,” she grunted as Coop’s full enhanced weight settled into her arms. “Let’s get him down.”

Close coordination got him down and onto a gurney with anti-grav tech. The medics rushed off, and passed the CMDR as she entered the hanger. The base leader took one look at the MOUNT and shook her head.

“How long until it’s operational?” Eve asked the tech already inspecting the wreck.

“Give me six hours and it’ll be ready to go into the field. A proper replacement for this section needs supplies we don’t have. We can get some duro-steel over it, but it’s going to be a weak spot.”

“He’ll deal,” her eyes followed the burned stump of Coop’s foot as it rounded the corner. Then she hopped down to confront the CMDR.

“Ma’am,” Eve didn’t realize how tired she sounded.

“You’re all we’ve got, Warrant Officer Berg,” the CMDR looked even more tired than Eve sounded. “If the enemy pushes again, we’ll need you to be in five places at once.”

“I’ll make it work,” Eve’s thoughts went to Coop in sick bay and her child in some storage tank. Everything she cared about was in this mountain. “I’ll make it work,” she repeated with more grit.

***

Sonya Berg

Location: CWS Jack Frost, Alpha Centauri, United Commonwealth of Colonies

The Chief of Naval Intelligence was asleep with her head through a holographic readiness report. It had frozen when her forehead went crashing through it on the master spreadsheet: the completion percentage of the fleet concerning upgrades, and their total numbers. As the senior-most admiral in the system when the directive came down from the prime minister, Sonya was charged with getting the rebuilding program underway.

That made her very unpopular in Alpha Centauri. All civilian shipping was diverted from the area if it wasn’t carrying military equipment. Cargo freighters that carried the life blood of the civilian population were forced to settle into orbit and use shuttles to ferry goods down from their holds. It led to shortages, impossible traffic jams, and the people were letting her know about it. System government officials were in her office every day to complain. She just didn’t give a shit. In one more week, life in the system would go back to normal. The massive fleet would sail off into the black and retake Earth . . . or not. In that case, Alpha Centauri might be next. How those officials loved hearing that ultimatum.

Her door chimed as someone requested admittance. She didn’t even twitch. It chimed again with the same result. After the third chime the door opened through an override, and a man strode in. He looked around at what looked like a bureaucratic nuke had exploded all over the place. The man who entered behind the first man chuckled as he ordered the lights to full brightness.

“Admiral.” Sonya finally began to stir at the summons to consciousness. “Admiral!”

Her face shot up from the desk, temporarily blurring the data in front of her. “Who . . . what . . .?” her vision finally cleared enough to see who was in her office. “Now I know this is a dream. There is no way Gilmore and Ward would be together in my office. Those two men hate each other; couldn’t be more different, both personally and concerning naval doctrine. If they were . . .” she stopped abruptly after she pinched herself and winced.

“You were saying,” Fleet Admiral Xavier Gilmore couldn’t find anywhere to sit, so he stood in front of her cluttered desk. Admiral Michael Ward just leaned against the doorframe.

“That means we really are throwing the kitchen sink at the enemy,” she straightened her CMUs and got to her feet. “I apologize . . .”

The Fleet Admiral waved her off. “I’m the only one who can command this fleet,” he answered the elephant in the room. “We’ve got multiple fleets converging and being refitted. There are going to be too many chefs in the kitchen. Having me take overall command will avoid bruising any egos. Ward will be the deputy commander because he has the most recent successful combat experience.”

Ward was still riding high off the successful raid on Yangon; even though that felt like a century ago. It was going to be a change for him to fight alongside the same forces he’d recently crushed.

“Give me a sitrep, Berg. Barebones is all I need. We’ll have enough briefings and workups over the next week to get into the weeds.”

“Barebones, sir,” Sonya wiped her eyes to clear the last of sleep. “We’re running on schedule for the most part. We’ve got two ships behind, but other than that we’re doing surprisingly well. Fleet techs are arriving on their own accord to help with the refits. We’ve almost got too many hands. People know what’s going on with Earth, and they want to help.”

The spirit of the Commonwealth’s people, even after the loss of Earth and a succession by major corporate interests, was beyond refreshing.

“That’s good news,” Gilmore nodded. “Because in one week we leave to retake Earth, so let’s get back to work.”

“We can sleep when we’re dead,” Ward added with a grin that Sonya shared. She buckled up for a wild ride.