When Duty Calls

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The general who is skilled in defense hides in the most secret recesses of the Earth; he who is skilled in attack fl?ashes forth from the topmost heights of heaven.

—Sun Tzu

The Art of War

Standard year circa 500 B.C.

PLANET ORON IV, THE CONFEDERACY OF SENTIENT BEINGS

Captain Antonio Santana, Commanding Offi?cer of Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 1st REC, felt a noticeable jerk as the CF-10 Assault Boat fell free of the Troop Transport Cynthia Harmon and began a gradual descent toward the nearly airless planet below. The lightly armed landing craft was accompanied by four Dagger 184 aerospace fi?ghters. That knowledge brought the cavalry offi?cer scant comfort, however, because he knew that once his largely untried company hit the surface of Oron IV, the navy wouldn’t be able to do much more than cheer them on. Or mourn their deaths. Santana felt his body fl?oat up off the surface of the jump seat, or try to, but a six-point harness held him in place. Behind the offi?cer, back in the CF-10’s crowded cargo bay, sixteen space-armored bio bods and nineteen cyborgs shared the heady combination of fear and excitement that precedes any combat insertion. And this one was worse than most. Because not only was half the company fresh from basic training, and had never been in combat before, but the raid was the type of mission normally reserved for the Marine Corps. Except there was a shortage of jarheads at the moment—which was why the Legion had been ordered to stand in for them. Making a bad situation worse was the fact that Major Liam Quinlan had assumed command of the 2nd Battalion while Santana was on leave.

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