Sticks and Stones
Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
The saying had remained in Miranda Keyes's mind for the last twenty years, ever since she'd arrived on Luna to live with her father. It was a saying that she'd kept in mind for ten of those years, as kids were kids, and teased her from everything from her hair styles to the lack of a mother. It was a saying she'd continued to keep in mind when she'd enrolled in Mare Nubium Academy, as accusations of nepotism dogged her from pre-enlistment training, to taking command of In Amber Clad. In hindsight, it was a saying that made sense to have originated from Earth, and could even be applied to worlds like her first home of Reach, but not so much the moon. Sticks and stones weren't in common supply within the domes of Earth's only natural satellite. You didn't throw stones in glass houses, and you certainly didn't throw them in domes keeping you from asphyxiation. Also, there weren't that many sticks to throw either. There were a few trees within the domes of Luna, but kids weren't meant to go near them. The low gravity made them grow to absurd heights (so no climbing, thank you very much), and with their presence being vital to providing the denizens' oxygen supply, you didn't fool around with them either.
But, as Miranda knew from experience, bones could break quite easily on Luna. Humans weren't meant for a 0.16g environment, so while muscular supplements could help stave off the effects of microgravity, it wasn't a perfect solution. She'd broken her arm at the age of 7, her left leg at the age of 11, and her right leg at the age of 13 – falls and fights. Her father had told her that it had built character. She just wanted to build muscle.
"Commander?"
She blinked, being taken out of her thoughts. Daydreaming – Christ, was she that tired, or that nostalgic? Maybe both. She looked at Lieutenant Prado.
"Yes?"
"Drop confirmed. CMA Punjab is en route to RV point."
"Visuals?"
"Dust, fire, more dust." It was a joke, and Prado quickly said, "bringing it up."
Both officers turned to the viewscreen of In Amber Clad. A moment later, an image of KR-51a came up; the only natural satellite of KR-51. KR-51 was a world like Venus – inhospitable to both humans and Covenant. KR-51a was a verdant moon – Heaven above Hell. Or had been. KR-51a had been home to Covenant fleet yards, where construction of the ships was made easy due to the moon's low gravity. At last estimate, there had been 200,000 Covies here, labouring away to build weapons of war that would be used against humanity. What that estimate was now, Miranda couldn't say. Likely low. Hopefully none.
"Send my regards to Commander Marie," Miranda send. "And a slipspace probe to FLEETCOM."
"Aye Ma'am."
Prado headed off, but Miranda kept her gaze on the image of the moon. As soon as the Punjab arrived, both ships would bug out, before regrouping at Vega. It would be a long trip, but that was what came from doing hit and runs behind enemy lines. Taking on KR-51a would have been feasible technically, but it would have required a massive commitment of ships, and leave UNSC worlds defenceless. So, some higher up had decided to use the Punjab, formerly a glorified supply ship, to give Comet Watson-3 a push. Cartographers knew it would pass within 10,000km of KR-51. No doubt the Covenant knew that as well, but not wanting a debris field, would let it pass. What they couldn't have counted on was a CMA ship landing on it ahead of time, fixing a bunch of chemical rockets to its surface, and then send it plummeting to the moon in the last second and bugging out, gambling that the Covenant would be too focused on the approaching bolide to worry about any blips on their sensors as to the presence of a human ship. Apparently, it had worked. And now, the moon was a world of dust clouds and firestorms, and would be for decades. It might still function as a fleet yard, but bereft of groundside infrastructure, its use to the Covenant would have been cut in half.
Sticks and stones, Miranda thought to herself. Well, there's a stone for you, even if you think we'll be fighting with sticks within the year.
She'd heard the rumours. That within a year, the Covenant would be at the doorstep of Reach, perhaps even Earth. The war had been going on for twenty-six years, and while victories like the one here existed, they were too few and far between to stem the flood engulfing human-controlled space. The use of bolides for planetary bombardment had been outlawed centuries ago, and not even the Insurrection had resorted to such tactics. Here, however, she felt nothing. No regret. No compassion. Only the smallest traces of satisfaction, and memories of a time on a different moon. A time long ago, so far removed from the presence that it might as well have been another lifetime.
Sticks and stones could break bones.
Stones, if thrown could space, could break a lot more.