‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that I will take a small crew, Brikanti-trained – just a couple of us would do – and take that ship, from the ground. The Celyn. It’s the same class as my own last command, the Ukelwydd. I could fly it blindfold. We will eliminate it as a threat to the Malleus, if nothing else. And perhaps we can be a backup to this strategy of persuasion. I could simply fly up to Höd, which is conveniently hurtling in towards us, and use the ship’s communication codes, and maybe my own rank, as cover to approach. And then—’
Quintus frowned. ‘Yes, and then?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to improvise. The crew on Höd must have some kind of abort facility.’
‘Not necessarily,’ the ColU murmured.
‘Well, if there isn’t, we’ll think of something else.’
Movena nodded enthusiastically. ‘It may be a slim chance, but better than none at all.’
Kerys said, ‘If you drop me below the base’s horizon, perhaps on the same pass when you drop Beth and her party for the bunker—’
‘Beth, and her party, and me.’ The voice wavered, but was forceful.
Stef turned, and to her dismay saw Penny in the doorway, clinging to a rail with one clawlike hand, her grey hair a cloud around her head. ‘Penny – go back to your couch.’
‘I will not, and I don’t answer to you now, Stef, if I ever did. Listen to me. I know Earthshine better than any of you. I was even a colleague of sorts, once, and have been here again, on this side of the jonbar hinge. Drop me onto Mars in a wheelchair – in a pressurised sack, whatever – I can help you.’ She smiled thinly. ‘At the minimum it might distract him. Another diversion of forces.’ She glared at her sister. ‘I trust you’re not going to put up any more objections?’
Stef felt anger surge. ‘You never belonged in my life anyway. To see you leave it now will be no loss to me.’
Quintus held up his hands. ‘We don’t have time for this. We have a plan, and it’s the best we’re going to find. Prepare for your drops in –’ He glanced at his trierarchus.
‘One hour,’ Movena said.
‘One hour.’ He glanced around at the group. ‘We will probably never meet again like this, those of us assembled here. And many of us may not survive the day at all. If you believe in Jesu, may He be at your side now.’ He clapped his hands, breaking the moment. ‘Go, go!’
CHAPTER 28
With six hours left before the arrival of Ceres, the Malleus Jesu tore into the atmosphere of Mars. It was, Titus Valerius cried triumphantly, like a Roman gladio ripping through a barbarian’s guts.
Gnaeus Junius, along with a contubernium of eight men under the command of Titus, was already tucked inside the heavily armoured hide of a testudo. He clung to his couch harness, dug himself deeper into the padding, and told himself he was as safe as he could reasonably be, at such a moment, in his armoured pressure suit, buried in his couch, inside an armoured vehicle that in turn was swaddled in the hold of the Malleus, a kernel-powered fist of a ship. Thus Gnaeus was wrapped up in layers of cushioning and armour and hull plate, like a precious gift ready for transport to the favoured son of an emperor.
But right now this gift was being delivered by falling headlong into the thin Martian air. The ship fell backside first, with its kernel bank burning bright to slow it down from its interplanetary speeds. Gnaeus just prayed that the thick hull, which right now was peeling away in layers to carry away excess heat, would last long enough to keep the ship intact through these painfully long heartbeats of the entry.
Ahead of him Gnaeus saw the men of the contubernium in their couches, all of them with their backs to him, soaking up the deceleration. A contubernium was formally a ‘tent group’, a unit within the legion – a band who trained, lived and fought together. They seemed relaxed. One of them was even asleep, as far as Gnaeus could see, a man called Marcus Vinius. They’d been through far worse than this in training, Titus had assured him.
Well, not Gnaeus. He was from a senatorial family; his time in the army, his jaunts into space, were only intended as stepping stones to better things, a few years of toughening up before he returned to a career in high politics, hopefully in the capital itself. His unwelcome assignment to the Romulus-Remus interstellar mission, while it kept him from coming up against warlike barbarians in Valhalla, had also kept him away from Rome for twenty-five years, in which time a new generation of pushy upstarts had come along to compete for such positions – a whole cadre just as bright and ambitious as Gnaeus, and not decades out of touch with the current intrigues and infighting at the top of the Empire, as he was.
And now, this. Invading a planet occupied by some kind of mad machine, and just as the sky was about to fall. Such adventures had certainly not been in Gnaeus’s career plan.
The deceleration built to a brutal peak. He closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and wondered if it might not be better if the ship just disintegrated in the air and put an end to it all. But he didn’t really mean that, not even in the worst moments. He had his duty to perform, after all.
And then, like a switch being closed, the deceleration dropped to nearly zero. Gnaeus was thrust forward against his harness, and his stomach rebelled at last, his breakfast of dried fish and bread splashing up out of his mouth.
Titus laughed and clapped him on the back. ‘Never mind, optio. Happens to us all. And none of us saw the optio spew up his guts like a little girl, did we, lads?’
‘Not me, Titus Valerius.’
‘Hang on, I’ll wake up Marcus Vinius to make sure he didn’t see you either—’
‘All right, all right,’ Gnaeus said, scrambling to regain his dignity. ‘Just make sure you’re ready for the drop, Titus – oof.’
Now the ship lurched suddenly to the right, and there was a burst of acceleration.
‘That’s what you get when you’re piloting in an atmosphere,’ Titus said. ‘Coping with turbulence, the thickening air – a lot of dust around on Mars. And trying not to let the barbarians on the surface get a shot in at you. Don’t worry, optio. You have to hand it to the trierarchus and her crew. These Brikanti know how to handle a ship.’
Gnaeus grunted. ‘Unfortunately there’s another bunch of Brikanti on the ground who are trying to kill us.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t worry about that either, sir. If they get us we’ll never know about it.’
‘Legionary, I wish you’d stop telling me not to worry, it’s scaring me to death.’
‘Oh, relax, sir. Why, I remember once on campaign—’
‘All hands,’ came a voice from crackly speakers. ‘This is Quintus Fabius. We’re in the air over the Earthshine base, and ready to make the drops. Timings as we planned. Be ready, we’re only going to get one run at this, before the Malleus takes me back into the safety of orbit where I belong. Call in. Yacht?’
‘Eilidh here, Centurion. Ready to go, with Collius and the rest.’
‘Good luck, and stand by. Jumpers?’
‘Kerys here. All set, Centurion; suits and wings checked over.’
‘Glad to hear it. Testudo?’
He was answered with a roar from the men of the contubernium, a clatter of weapons on breastplates; the din was enormous in the enclosed space of the vehicle. Titus yelled, ‘Let us at them, Centurion!’
‘Try not to get overexcited, Titus Valerius, it’s bad for a man of your age. Very well, everybody. Make sure you all keep in contact throughout the operation. That ball of ice in the sky is less than six hours away. But if you live, you won’t be left behind, and that’s a promise. Understood?’