Eight white diamonds in a line swept north over gray topography. Two more where they should not have been.
A monotone voice.
"This is Fulcrum Actual. Topaz Nine and Ten, you are trailing. Can you push any harder?"
"Ma'am, no, ma'am. Nine took a hit, jump jet damage, throttled down, I'm covering him, we're just running a little behind the pack, that's all."
"Topaz Nine, maximum remaining power on that next jump."
"Yes, ma'am…"
A crunch, audible over the link.
"Too short. Topaz Nine, ground and cover as best you can. Topaz Ten, throttle up to full, angle to your right, jump and aim to land on the shadowed side of the ridge at grid FA-68."
Overlapping chatter:
"Ma'am, I won't be able to cover Ten, leapfrog won't work…"
"Ma'am, I can't leave Nine behind…"
"Topaz Nine, ground and cover. Topaz Ten, to that ridge. Do you copy?"
"Copy."
"Copy."
Three red tracks converged on a white diamond.
"Topaz Nine, showing three inbound to you, forwarding fused sensor data, bearing 190, take the rightmost one first."
"Ma'am? Ten's on my left."
"Yes. Ten, you'll cover Nine as long as possible."
"And then what?"
"And then you'll cover yourself as long as possible."
A second arc of red tracks appeared. At least a dozen. Maybe more.
"Fulcrum Actual" took off her headset, rose from her chair, brushed black hair back past plugged link sockets unused by anything in the tactical room.
"I'm done here. Tac Two, take over, you should be able to handle the rest of the Topaz evac. Keep to the original dropship launch window and the original orbiter pickup window. Tac One, take a break. You didn't need me for this."
Fulcrum Tac One looked like she was about to throw up, but managed, with effort, to choke it down.
"Ma'am? I requested intervention because I thought you could get them out of there. What the fuck was that?"
Fulcrum's commander turned, not making eye contact. She tugged one sleeve of her sleep-rumpled fatigues back into position.
"The operation was already on the edge of contingency timing. Topaz Nine was dead the moment he took that hit. Topaz Ten was dead the moment he stayed behind to cover Nine. If you'd paged me earlier, I might have been able to use Nine better and kept Ten with the line."
"Ma'am, we could have gotten both of them out—"
The commander held up a hand.
"Most of Topaz was out of missiles; Three and Six were out of kinetics as well. Seven was developing a generator fault. You would not have been able to hold the evac site. As is, Topaz One thru Eight will be leaving on schedule. That was the best I could do with the mistakes that were already made."
"Ma'am, that's doll logic!"
The shout cut through the tactical room chatter. Chairs squeaked as unoccupied auxiliary personnel swiveled to get a better angle. A marine lowered a hand to her stunner's grip.
"You've never worked directly with combat augments, have you, Tac One?" the commander asked. Her voice never left its monotone. Her eyes never left their fixation point somewhere on the wall. "'Doll logic' given my rank and resources would have been saturation-bombing the subcontinent with the Fulcrum's long-range torpedoes. Neutron warheads are cheap. Minimal expenditure, zero casualties."
"The civilians… hell, the ecosystem…"
"Aren't ours and don't count. All ten of Topaz, which are ours, would still be safely in cryostorage ten decks down. That's doll logic. Unfortunately for Topaz Nine and Ten, I woke up one day to find out I'd been deconditioned, decommissioned, and promoted. And now I'm here, and I've been told that I can't go back until this whole insurrection is handled as cleanly and quietly as it can be…"
On the schematic display, one, then both white diamonds winked out, drowned in red.
The commander closed her eyes.
"Tac One, go get a coffee or something. If I hear the words 'doll logic' out of you again, I'll make sure you survive to learn it the way I learned it, and you'll have the benefit of knowing exactly what you're talking about." □
