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the Peggy Sue's crew on the base; and Isbjørn, the acknowledged lead polar bear, veteran of the second voyage.
    “How are we doin' on picking up survivors planetside?” the gruff oilman asked. Well into his seventies, Parker was a force of nature even though confined to a tricked out gyro-stabilized, four-wheel drive electric wheel chair. More than anyone, it had been Parker who held things together on the moon base as the asteroids began to fall on Earth. By shear strength of will he prevented the people of the partly staffed lunar base from falling into despondency.
    The people of Farside Base had watched with horror as the 24 hour bombardment of their home world killed most everything they had ever loved and cherished. They were without weapons to defend themselves—the six corvettes were not yet operational, and would have been unable to do anything about the massive attack if they had been. As the attacking alien vessel flew past Earth and headed for the outer reaches of the solar system TK had fought to keep the base functioning. Then, a light delayed signal from the Peggy Sue arrived, saying that they were back in the system and to hold on, they were on their way.
    A hectic month ensued as the veterans from Peggy Sue helped organize the inexperienced Farside personnel. They were soon scouting the shattered Earth looking for survivors with useful skill sets—soldiers, scientists, technicians and support personnel to help run humanity's outpost on the Moon. Though it pained them, the crew and base personnel recognized that they could not save even a small fraction of those left behind on Earth. But what they could do was to rearm the Peggy Sue, finish outfitting the corvettes and assemble a Marine force to strike back at those who had so violently invaded the solar system.
    A little more than a month after the surprise attack, a counterstrike mission was launched with Captain Curtis in command and newly commissioned Capt. Rodriguez leading the Marines. Being able to focus on striking back enabled the base leaders to skirt the edge of chaos and collapse, at least for a while. Unfortunately, it had now been nearly a month since the Peggy Sue and Task Force Alpha had left to hunt down and kill the invaders, and during that time mankind's precarious position weighed heavily on those at Farside.
    “We have a dozen shuttles of all sizes working around the clock searching for candidate personnel,” said a weary Ludmilla. Since returning she had assumed an administrative role at the base. She was now addressed as colonel more often than doctor, much to her personal displeasure. She had worked for years to leave her military past behind but necessity now required she take up the mantle of command. Having made first contact with aliens during the voyages of the Peggy Sue, and having fought against some of them at close quarters, lent a cachet to her military rank that could not be matched by anyone else among humanity's survivors. Only Commander Curtis or Captain Sutton could match her practical experience, and with Gretchen out hunting aliens and Jack lost God knows where she was left charge.
    “Finding military personnel is not proving to be a problem,” she said. “If anything we have too many anxious warriors, all hoping to kill aliens. We have found isolated units from many major countries—the U.S., the UK, Russia, Japan, Scandinavia, even a company of the Légion étrangère.”
    “French Foreign Legion? Where did we find them?” asked an incredulous TK.
    “In the mountains of Djibouti, high above the African Rift Valley. They were cutoff and lost like so many others,” Ludmilla answered tiredly. “Ground troops we have many, finding sailors for the space navy is another thing.”
    “Why do you say that?”
    “Differing skills. Marines, SAS, Special Forces, Spetznaz are all trained to engage the enemy at close quarters, even hand-to-hand, and to survive off the land. Not much opportunity for that under