Milla stepped forward and looked at the data over Roberts’s shoulder. She gasped slightly as she recognized the city on the data display. “That is Mons Systema! It’s the government capital of this system.”

Weston nodded, accepting that information quietly. “Roberts, go down to the shuttle bay and have Savoy prepare his men for some ground pounding.”

“Aye, Captain.” Roberts’s face looked troubled, but he got up to leave the bridge, tapping the induction set on his jaw as he did.

“And Roberts?” Weston said.

“Yes, sir?” The Commander paused, glancing back.

“Once they’re away, take command of the auxiliary bridge. I’ll have a command crew waiting for you.”

“Aye, Captain,” Roberts said, turning back toward the lift.

Weston turned back to the tactical repeater that showed the situation outside. He could hear Roberts giving orders as he waited for the lift.

“Lieutenant Savoy, we have a situation developing,” Roberts said. “Prepare your men for a hot insertion; you’ll have to do an OILO.”

The doors hissed open and shut, and Roberts was gone. But he focused on the situation outside that had become paramount to his thinking. Behind him, he didn’t notice his young guest, Milla, hit the call switch for the lift while everyone else was busy with other matters.

Stephanos jinked to the left as a stray missile detonated just off his wingtip, rocking the plane with the concussion but thankfully missing any major shrapnel impacts. He flipped the plane end for end on his directional thrusters, killing his main engines as he did, and let the plane’s momentum take it along its previous course as he haloed the fighter that tried to ice him.

“Adios, sucker.”

Stephanos’s eighty-millimeter cannon blazed, ripping the pursuing fighter to shreds in an instant. He watched the blaze of flame and shrapnel for a second before he kicked his main engines back into full power and killed his momentum, swiveling around and accelerating toward another target.

Around him, the Archangels were faring well against their alien counterparts, often taking the enemy fighters by sheer element of surprise. The enemy pilots were obviously not used to targets that shot back.

Roberts burst into the hangar bay just ahead of the assault team, the clangs of the Magboots echoing off the walls and ceiling as they headed for the shuttle. A few moments later, the lift doors opened again and a lone figure stepped out.

“Miss Chans,” Roberts said as he recognized her, “I don’t think that your presence is needed this time.”

Milla finished snapping the armor on as she walked into the room, the helmet crooked in the bend of her arm. “I think that you will need someone on the surface who knows the people, Commander. And I do not think that anyone else on board fits that description and knows how to operate your ‘firm suits.’”

Roberts scowled but had to acknowledge the point. “I don’t suppose you’ve had any weapons training?”