“So during that fifteen seconds, all thirteen hundred rings dumped a massive gamma-ray burst into their systems. Hard enough that four ships on approach to the rings had their crews cooked. Emergency systems kicked in, autopilot stopped the ships, so we don’t have four unmanned projectiles flying through the rings at us, but …”
Onni lifted his hands as if he was presenting a gift. Singh blinked and sat back. Something shifted in his belly. An emotion he hadn’t felt since he’d arrived at Medina. Surprise. Maybe even hope. The ring space was, by the best understanding of the science teams, one of the most energetically active things in the perceivable universe. The power required to keep the space itself from collapsing was astounding even to people who routinely built things like Magnetar-class battleships. The effect Langstiver described wouldn’t even be a rounding error in the overall system, but the applicat
ion of it could mean a significant windfall.
“How do you know this?”
The Belter spread his hands. “I live here. I know things not everybody knows.”
“Is this correct?” Singh said, not to Onni but to Kasik.
“I’ll have a report prepared immediately,” Kasik replied, and left the room already talking at his wrist.
“So, yeah,” Onni continued, laughing a little now. Acting as if he’d already ingratiated himself. If he wasn’t corrected, it would become true. “Transport Union’s gonna be pissed you just cooked four of their freighter crews.”
Singh considered the man. He would need local contacts. Natives of Medina Station who were loyal to the new power structure and supporters of Laconian rule. The prospect of having this bootlicker as one of the first among them was beneath his dignity.
“Dismissed,” Singh said to the man. He needed to call Trejo on the Tempest and report this.
Onni’s face fell. The smile faded first into surprise and then indignation and resentment. Rejection bloomed into hatred while Singh watched. He’d rarely made a decision proven right so definitively or so quickly. People of this low character would never be part of his administration, and it was telling that Onni had managed to gain power on Medina.
“Bossmang, you gotta listen to me,” Onni said.
“I said you’re dismissed,” Singh barked at him, then looked to one of his Marine guards. She immediately grabbed Onni by the arm, halfway lifting him off the ground with her armor’s augmented strength.
“Ouch! Fuck!” Onni yelled as she dragged him out of the room.
“Have a cart brought around,” Singh said to the remaining Marine. “I want to go to the ops center and look over the data about this gamma-ray burst.”
“Aye, sir,” the Marine said, then stepped out of the room.
Singh needed to corroborate Onni’s story first, then get a full report to Admiral Trejo. If the man was correct, then they had the ability to release a lethal gamma-ray burst through the gates whenever they wished. Could there be a more powerful means of controlling travel through the network? It had the potential to shave months off their timetable in establishing control over the various colony worlds.
For the first time that day, Singh felt himself relax. He might have just won the empire for Laconia, all without firing a shot in anger.
Chapter Fifteen: Bobbie
As an operator in the Orbital Drop Task Force, Bobbie had trained with Spec Ops personnel from every command in the Martian military for a single purpose: the invasion of Earth. And while the old axiom “If you wish for peace, prepare for war” was not without its skeptics, that skepticism wasn’t shared by the Martian military. The doctrine that drove Mars in the century and a half following its declaration of independence relied on it. Mars would never have as large a population or as big an industrial base as Earth. The only thing that prevented Earth from reconquering her wayward colony was a constant demonstration of Mars’ willingness and ability to hit back hard. As long as they could land on Earth streets, Earth would hesitate to fight in their tunnels.
Bobbie and her fellow Marines in Force Recon regularly and visibly trained for that day. They took drugs and worked out in full gravity until Earth would be merely uncomfortable, not bone-crushing. They practiced dropping from orbit in troop carriers and one-person pods. They trained in urban pacification and insurgent elimination. They learned to make up for what they lacked in troop numbers by using aggression and intimidation to keep the conquered people in line. She had literally spent years preparing to move through the streets of Earth commanding obedience through the threat of death.
The invasion and conquest of Medina Station was civilized by comparison. She wondered whether that would last.
Four Laconian Marines in their power armor stood watch in the dock offices, mag boots locked to the deck, and kept a close eye on the line of people waiting to talk to the dockmaster. But while they appeared vigilant, they were not aggressive. They acted like their presence was sufficiently intimidating to keep the populace in line. With some sort of slug thrower built into the armor in each forearm, and a pair of what looked like grenade launchers on each shoulder, Bobbie decided they were right. There were probably thirty people on the float waiting for the dockmaster. The four Laconians looked like they could have handled ten times that number.
She’d been like them, once.
“I like your suit,” she said to the Laconian closest to her.
“Excuse me?” he said, not looking at her, continuing to scan the room.
“I like your suit. I wore an old Goliath back in the day.”
That got his attention. The Laconian looked her over once, feet on up. He was so much like the teams she’d trained with when she’d joined up, it felt like looking back through time. She wondered if he was as ignorant as she’d been back then. Probably. Hell, maybe more so.
“MMC Force Recon?” he said. There was something like respect in his voice.
“Once was,” she agreed. “You guys have made some improvements.”