Assuming your models are accurate.
“You may recall one support group,” Zheen said. “And that’s all you’ll get. Between that group and naval support, it should be enough.”
Hella knew the importance of logistical support but decided not to push the issue further. “And my two divisions deployed to Silex? I’d like them sent to Verdant as well.”
“I agree,” Storek said. “Operations are winding down there. They should be redeployed to Verdant immediately.”
“Now hold on,” Lonacker said. “You and Admiral Deely released those divisions to see the occupation through, and they should stay until the system is restored to order.”
Hella leaned past Markham and stared at him. “How many divisions are in an Army group, Lonacker?”
The old administrator didn’t hesitate with his answer: “Roughly thirty-two.”
“So you have roughly sixty-four divisions in system, plus two of mine, spread across the three core planets. Are you saying you’ll lose control of Silex-5 if even two divisions leave? Are you that insecure in your position?”
“We were promised—”
“And you got it. It’s gone on long enough. Two divisions do not make a difference there; on Verdant the difference could be victory or defeat.”
“Agreed,” Storek said. “Admiral?”
“I agree with both of you. So it’s up to the secretary and administrator at this point.”
“Mr. Secretary,” Lonacker said, “the Silex system should be secured within the year. But removing those divisions could jeopardize the entire operation.”
“So send in two of yours,” Hella said, his passion slipping into the words. “You run the Army. How many hundreds of divisions do you have?”
“Several, as you well know, and all are currently committed as deterrent forces at various strategic points. You think you’re the only one spread thin?”
“Deterrent force, you say? Is that an Army designation for rotting away in garrison?”
“Gentlemen, please,” said Secretary Barrington. “This bickering is getting us nowhere.”
General Lonacker kept the volley going. “That’s funny, Hella! You Marines are always bragging about your elite all-volunteer force and how you constantly do more with less. Yet you fold the minute you’re asked to prove it.”
“We’ve proven it time and again. But now is not the moment for that. If you paid more attention, you’d realize the Alliance’s tridinium supply is on the line here.”
“I am aware of that.” The general’s fist thumped the table. “But you still have two divisions under your command. What’s that, since you like to talk numbers? Thirty-thousand men? Forty? You outnumber the insurgents at least two-to-one. So why don’t you just adapt and overcome—”
“You’re out of line, Lonacker,” Storek said. “And this pissing contest is over. What say you, Mr. Secretary?”
Barrington rubbed his pointy aristocratic chin for a moment before speaking. “I understand your concerns, gentlemen.” He briefly locked eyes with Storek and Hella. “But a numerical advantage of two-to-one should be sufficient to carry out the operation. And we also have to abide by the FDP, since Verdant is in a free-trade zone.”
For the last twenty years, the Frontier Deployment Pact, a treaty regulating troop strengths of the United Systems, the Union, and other signatories, limited the number of forces deployed by nations in the frontier zone. The pact was intended to encourage economic development and reduce conflict in a region rife with contested areas. Hella’s four divisions wouldn’t violate the FDP, but the number of ships needed to transport them there would. It may also affect the number of ships Sixth Fleet can keep in reserve in the system.
“Are there any signs that the Union is moving additional forces near the Verdant sector?” Zheen said.
Markham swiveled his way. “Intelligence reports that Union forces have been conducting large-scale training maneuvers in the adjacent Tratone-Beta system, but nothing that seems out of the ordinary.”
Provided the intel assessments are correct. Even if they were, Hella didn’t relish the idea of taking Third Corps in at half strength. But the battle isn’t over yet. Barrington technically had the power to make the decision on his own; however, Zheen was the president’s man and the de facto wielder of Alliance military might. His word would be final:
“No one said it wouldn’t be without challenges, General Hella. You have a reputation for getting things done. I realize and respect that, as a battlefield commander, your theater is your only concern. But my theater is the security of all Alliance space, and all of the concerns that entails. The Army’s deterrent forces will remain in place, and your two divisions will remain on Silex. I think you have the necessary bodies to get the job done, but we’ll get you some additional naval aerospace units to assist with the operation. That should give your forces more flexibility and air support. You and General Storek can hammer that out with Admiral Deely here in a little while.”
“Very well, sir,” Hella replied.
He had lost this battle, but there would be reprisals. Only those few harsh words dissolved his neutral feelings toward Lonacker. Hella stood first in line to succeed Storek, and a successful campaign on Verdant would guarantee his appointment. I hope you’re still here when I sit on this council, you poag.
Then, to Hella’s surprise, Lonacker decided to rub in his victory. “Are you happy now, Hella?”
“Ecstatic, general. I’ve been ordered back to war. You remember what that’s like, right?” Hella widened his gray eyes a bit and stared him down, raised one corner of his mouth slightly. The expression accentuated the shrapnel scar on his face; it had silenced many of his detractors over the decades.
Lonacker quickly averted his gaze to his tablet. Storek and Markham chuckled briefly at his discomfiture, while Deely shook his head in annoyance. The admiral had never possessed a sense of humor.
“Let’s get down to bullets and beans, people,” Zheen said. “Time to spread the maps and talk tactics. I take it you’ve looked over the Verdant maps and the known insurgent positions, General Hella?”
“I have, sir.”
A rotating spherical greenish hologram of Verdant appeared over the table. Red dots denoting suspected enemy outposts blinked on the moon’s surface. Zheen motioned with an open hand. “Well, don’t keep us in suspense.”
CHAPTER 9
Platoon 2084 began the third phase of Marine Corps bootcamp with an entire month devoted to advanced swim training, scuba qualification, and HALO jumps that gradually increased in altitude. Morning PT took on rigors commensurate with the training: 15-k runs and 3-k swims the standard. The perilous air and sea training claimed the life of recruit Whittington, who plummeted sixty thousand meters into the lake on their final preparatory HALO jump, his chute never opening. An investigation followed, but the recruits were not informed of the findings.
Afternoons and evenings were reserved for classroom tactical study. The DIs dissected dozens of real-life small-unit engagements, both failed and successful, using maps and data as well as camera footage taken by the Marines involved, many of whom had died. Due to the demanding schedule, the command minimized field combat training during this time, though the platoon made several trips through combat simulators. Rizer found little comparison between simulated combat and actual footage. For better or worse, advanced electronics couldn’t replicate the horror of war, though the simulators kept the platoon sharp with their rifles.
He continued to question certain aspects of training, particularly the psycho-comic antics of the DIs, but he realized most of it provided a solid foundation for whatever would come next, though the next was never revealed in concrete terms. He kept this reality in mind as he lay prone in the low surf on a pebbled beach, scanning the area for the best route to lead first squad inland to the rally point. They’d made a HALO jump from the same 60-k in the dead of night. Rizer led first squad on a 5-k s
wim to shore. He had no idea what lay between here and the rally point where SSgt Mack awaited, but squad leaders and guide had been advised to be prepared for anything. Time on deck was 0510, the sky just beginning to lighten.
“Report in,” Rizer ordered through his helmet mike as he glanced to either side, where several squad mates lay in the waves removing their swim fins. All seven reported; their green dots glowed on his HUD relief map. Using visual analysis and the map, he plotted a route up and through the slope of monolithic rocks past the beach to the forested heights beyond. “Single file, five-meter interval.” He rose from the waves and charged across the beach to the rocks.
In the trees atop the slope, Rizer deployed the squad in a 180-degree formation facing inland while he plotted the next leg of their route to the rally point about five klicks away. A friendly green dot appeared on his map, scaling the rocks from the beach to his position.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
“Who’s that?” asked Stubs.
Rizer anticipated the worst—the green dot a DI, perhaps Alpha or Bravo. No, they’re deployed as enemy. The reality proved far worse when Abek, attached to second squad for this mission, joined Rizer.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rizer asked.
“I got separated from second squad. Fucking Garwood led them up the beach somewhere.” Garwood had somewhat redeemed himself by taking over second squad.
“You better get walking then,” Stubs said.
“Fuck you, Stubs; I’m with you guys now.”
Yeah, because you can’t jump worth a shit. Abek had become separated from the platoon on one of their previous jumps. “Whatever,” Rizer said. “Just keep up and try not to get lost. Again.”
“So what’s your route?” Abek asked.
Rizer ignored him. Ahead lay two klicks of gradually ascending plateau before an area of low hills. Beneath the huge evergreens, the ground was clear but for massive trunks, scattered boulders, and patches of ferns. “Keep in file behind me, five-meter intervals. Move out.”
Rizer got moving.
“Back off, Stubs, you’re in my spot,” Abek said.
“No, we work together,” Stubs said, jerking a thumb toward Rizer. “You take the tail, lost boy.”
“Fuck you!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Rizer growled. “Get in the rear, Abek.”
“I should be in front of you, Rizer.”
“Get in back, Abek,” Stubs said, “or I’ll bury you right here.”
Then Coltin jumped in: “We should follow Abek; he’s our guide.”
“I can dig a grave for two.” Stubs’ warning silenced further dissent. “All right then. Lead on, Rizer.”
Rizer moved at a quick walk, switching often to infrared optics as he scanned the gloomy woods for enemy heat signatures and trip beams that would activate simulated traps. Burrmaster, Alpha, and Bravo were out here somewhere, perhaps with squads of their own pulled from the pool of depot training instructors. Though all shots were simulated, Rizer didn’t want anyone in his squad dying. Whoever dies will wish they were dead.
They encountered three simulated explosive traps—two beam and one old-fashioned trip wire—in a crevice atop the first rocky ridge they came to. The narrow pass provided the most convenient route. Rizer pointed out the traps to Stubs, who in turn passed the location to the next man, and so on. The squad came through unscathed.
“Freeze!” Rizer said over the squad channel when he spotted a recon drone approaching through the woods. The squad froze in place as the small drone passed parallel to their position at an altitude of ten meters, close enough for them to hear the soft hum of its repulsor motors. They might be screwed if it spotted them, but with no way of knowing, Rizer put it out of his mind even as he ordered the squad to watch for more.
Past the first ridge, they entered a warren of hillocks carved by swift, shallow streams running ice cold. They encountered no more traps or drones and, miraculously, no enemy patrols. Soon they reached the mouth of the narrow valley that served as the rally point.
Perfect for an ambush.
Rizer halted the squad and brought Stubs forward. He made a hacking motion across his throat, signaling Stubs to turn off his mike so they could speak in private. “She’s up there about half a klick,” Rizer said.
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s too easy. You know how she is.”
Stubs nodded. “Yeah, full of surprises.”
“Exactly.”
“What’re you thinking?”
“That hill is all wooded and a pretty easy ascent. If we go up the back side and summit, we can recon the valley from up there, maybe see what she’s up to before we approach.”
“Good—”
Footsteps approached, followed by Abek diving down beside them. “What’s the holdup? We’re almost there.”
Reluctantly, Rizer shared his plan with Abek.
“Dude, it’s a rally point; there won’t be any enemy there.”
“That’s what she wants us to believe,” Rizer said.
“You’re fucking paranoid. Let’s get going. Maybe we’ll be the first squad there.” Abek hadn’t turned off his mike; the entire squad heard their conversation.
“Why aren’t we moving?” Belzer asked.
Abek commanded, “Bring it in, first squad.”
Stubs cuffed him across the helmet, the open-handed blow knocking Abek to the dirt. But the guide shook it off as the squad assembled around them.
Rizer wanted to use his vibro blade and castrate Abek on the spot. “We’re going up that side of the ridge to recon the valley before we move to the rally point.”
“No, we’re going straight up the valley to the rally point,” Abek said. “There’s no fucking reason to recon.”
“There’s every reason to do it! Have you not figured her out by now?”
“We’re going straight to the rally point, Rizer. I’m the guide and that’s an order!”
“Fuck yeah, I’m with you, Abek,” Coltin said, then Belzer responded likewise.
Stubs huffed. “She’s gonna jump us, you fucking idiots!”
“Said the biggest idiot in the platoon,” Abek jeered. “After me, five-meter intervals. Move out!”
As Abek stood, Rizer held out an arm and staid Stubs from knocking him down again. The rest of the squad followed Abek. “There’s nothing we can do,” Rizer said. “Fucker’s technically in charge.”
“Bullshit. Where was he until now?”
Hanging back, waiting to take control once it was safe. They were far from safe, but it no longer mattered; the squad had taken off after their senior man. Hagel, tail man on second fire team, shook his head as he walked past. “You guys are right.”
“Shut your suck, Hagel!” Abek said via radio. “Rizer, Stubs, get your asses in gear!”
“We could break off,” Stubs said, mike still off. “Go it alone with your plan.”
“She’ll fucking kill us if we abandon the squad, right or wrong. Let’s just go.”
SSgt Mack’s voice came over their radios half a klick later. “Congrats, first squad, you’re first to the rally point.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Abek and Coltin said.
“Too bad you’re all fucking dead.”
Rizer dropped to the deck as the enemy alarm sounded in his helmet. A louder alarm then wailed more urgently, signaling he’d been hit. Red lights flashed on first squad’s load-bearing gear as they were gunned down in the open by hidden enemy. “Shit!” Rizer shouted. “Abek, you fucking dumbass!”
Six Marine instructors emerged from rocks and trees around them, all wearing sensor-scattering camo ponchos that made them practically invisible. They had pulled their hoods back to expose their helmets; their bodies appeared as vague outlines against their backdrop.
“Bring it in, dipshits!” Mack said, stepping into the open with a rifle in her hands. When the squad rallied around her
, Mack asked of Abek, “First of all, why the fuck are you here? You were assigned to second squad.”
“Ma’am, I—”
“You fucked up your jump and got lost. Save your shitty breath, I get it! You’re fired as guide!” She whirled to confront Rizer. “And why the fuck was this idiot leading your squad, Rizer?”
“Ma’am, I led the squad here before this mother—before Recruit Abek took command and marched us up this valley. I intended to recon from atop that hill. I knew you we’re gonna ambush us.”
“Oh yeah? That true, first squad?”
“Yes, ma’am!” Stubs said.
“No one asked you; you’re Rizer’s butt buddy!”
“It’s true, ma’am,” Hagel said.
“I see. So you knew it was coming and still let Abek take over your squad? Let him march you up the valley on the most likely avenue of approach, the dumbest fucking thing he could possibly do?”
“They took off after him!” Rizer said.
“Because you’re an ineffective leader, Rizer! If you had even one ball under your dick, they would have stayed with you. It’s not enough to know the right moves if nobody follows you, college boy.”
“They followed his rank, ma’am.” And you’re the one who gave it to him.
“Oh well! If you were that sure, then you should have taken this dumbass out and proceeded with your plan! But you won’t have to worry about it again because you’re fired too! Belzer, you’re now first squad leader.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Don’t sound so happy about it—you’re gonna pay for their fuckups right alongside them!” Rizer thought about protesting, telling Mack that Belzer had followed Abek without question. Why the fuck bother? “Now all of you maggots follow that instructor and clear the fuck outta here. The remnants of third squad are on the way, and we need to resume positions.”
Rizer hoped they would be waiting in a secluded position where he could beat the dogshit out of Abek. No such luck; the bot instructor hung around and thrashed them as they waited for the other squads to show. One fucking day, golden boy…
The other squads trickled in, most having performed no better. Sgt Burrmaster and his men annihilated fourth squad somewhere in the woods; they showed up disarmed and defeated, stripped down to their underwear and shivering, his POWs. Alpha took out all of third squad save for Carelli and Oliver, who then died in Mack’s ambush at the rally point. Only second squad, with Garwood in charge, did it right, scouting the valley from on high and recognizing the threat before entering. Their victory over Mack was short lived, as it allowed Bravo and his group to catch up and take them out. Even so, Mack reinstated Garwood as guide and made Ward second squad leader. Rizer was friends with both, yet he couldn’t help feeling cheated and a bit jealous. Abek, after all, should have been with them.
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