by J. L. Curtis
“Could your company take them?”
Fargo cocked his head, “Probably, if we surprised them. We’d still take losses, possibly heavy losses. They’ve got plasma rifles, and I think some heavier artillery concealed down there somewhere, plus at least a couple of missile batteries two thirds of the way up the bowl on the eastern and western sides.”
The colonel asked, “How would you do it?”
“Company strength, all source jamming, mass drop, weapons free. Prisoners of opportunity, try to get to their command and control, and comms system before they can destroy it.”
“What about the missile batteries?”
“Take them out as we drop? Maybe from the shuttle? Granted we’d be dropping stealthed, but some sharp eyed troop could still spot the shimmer and light us up.”
Fargo bit his lip, “Without help from the shuttle, we’d probably lose half our troops.”
The colonel replied, “That’s not acceptable. Not at all. I’m not going to get volunteer colonists killed that way.”
Fargo sighed with relief, “Thank you.”
GalPat Arriving
Colonel Keads messaged Fargo and Nicole, requesting that they come to White Beach in civilian clothes to discuss options, as he called them. He’d added the shuttle would be at the spaceport at eight, meaning Fargo would have to fly down now.
As he was getting a bag together, his e-tainment system pinged an alert, followed by a header from Captain Jace, a coded string of numbers, followed by the words, DOWNLOAD ONLY. Fargo slid a data chip into the console, hit acknowledge, and heard the console click, then spit the chip out.
Fargo got up, dug out his standalone e-reader, and powered it up. The holo formed and the word NUMBERS swam up, “Ethan Fargo, eight three four six alpha romeo two four eight.”
The holo rotated to show Hunter from what appeared to be a satellite image, two curved streaks that appeared to be new tracks displayed, a string of numbers followed, indicating the track origins, dates, times and durations. There were IR shots of the Goon’s outpost, now showing two ships grounded. Pulling the chip out, he messaged Nicole, GOT ANOTHER ONE. CAN YOU HANDLE?
He finished packing, shut down the cabin, and pulled the liteflyer from the storage building. Configuring it for flight, he sent Cattus and Canis to watch and hunt. As he settled into the liteflyer, his wrist comp pinged with an answer from Nicole, AT THE MUG. CAN DO. TWO HOURS?
He quickly responded, and with one last look around, closed the canopy and launched. After a quick stop by the clinic, ostensibly to get his ears checked by OneSvel, he’d delivered a copy of the chip for him to push up the chain of command, filliing him in on the trip tomorrow.
Walking into the bar, he saw Nicole laughing with Sergeant Omar at the bar, and he wondered, yet again, if he was falling in love with her. There was definitely an attraction, but he wondered if that was her hostess background or something real. She saw him and came around the bar, “Fargo, I hear the master calling, right,” as she gave him a quick hug. Surprisingly, her shields were down, and she was thinking about the kitchen and a standalone datacomp. He quickly projected, Got it, kitchen. “Hello yourself, and yes, they want us in White Beach tomorrow. Apparently we have company coming.”
Sergeant Omar’s GalTrans twittered, “Ho, Lieutenant of the retired, GalPat strike force in the system. Involved, are you?”
Fargo parsed Omar’s question replying, “Omar, involved we are not. Planet only for the militia.”
Omar swiveled two eyestalks in what Fargo had learned was an Arcturian equivalent of an eye roll, “Sure of that, we are?”
Fargo shrugged, “One never knows, does one?”
This time Omar’s GalTrans chittered a laugh, and he shook his head.
***
Nicole went through the data with a fine toothed comb, mumbling to herself as she flipped back and forth between this data, and the previous set of data. After an hour, she added some comments, embedded it in a picture of the bar, encrypted it, commanded transmit for the latest email and leaned back in the chair, “Wow, this may mean we’re going to catch the Goons with their pants down, assuming GalPat decides to take action soon.” Arching her back and grinning, she continued, “Speaking of catching somebody with their pants down…”
Fargo blushed, “I need to go see Mikhail and Luann, but I can come back…”
“If you want.”
Fargo smiled, “Yes, I want. It may be late.”
“I’ll be here.”
***
Luann huffed, “Ethan, you’re supposed to be retired. Why did you get into this whole militia thing? You could get hurt or killed! Isn’t forty years of the military long enough? Men!”
He glanced at Mikhail before he answered, “Luann, it’s my way of giving something back to this planet I’m now calling home. I may be old, but I know how to do this stuff. And our company is unquestionably the best on the planet!”
Mikhail coughed to cover a laugh as Luann threw up her hands, “Oh, fine! Just, just…” She whispered, “Please don’t get killed,” throwing her arms around him, she hugged him hard, and he was inundated with her mental fears and worries.
“I won’t. Mikhail, we need to talk about that trip to Endine. How long will we be gone?”
***
Fargo ran his hand down Nicole’s hip, feeling her shiver, “You like that?”
She burrowed closer under his arm, “Oh yes, but we need some sleep before we fly out tomorrow morning.”
Laughing, he asked, “Tired out already?”
Nicole raised up on an elbow, “I thought you were tir… Ooh, nope you’re not tired, are you?” Rolling over on him, she kissed him deeply as they made love one more time.
Fargo enfolded her in his arms as she drifted off to sleep, thinking, What have I gotten myself into? Am I falling in love? Or is this just a case of lust? My god, it’s been over forty years… Maybe this is what I, we, both need. It’s not like we’re youngsters. Other random thoughts ran through his head until he dropped off to sleep.
Coffee? His subconscious reacted to the odor drifting up to his nose and he opened his eyes slowly, turned his head, and sure enough, there was a coffee bulb sitting next to his head.
“Morning sleepy one,” Nicole said with a smile, “We’ve got time for breakfast, if you get your butt out of bed and in the fresher.”
***
Colonel Keads welcomed Fargo and Nicole, “Come in, come in. Coffee?” When they both nodded, he got up and programmed the autochef in the corner himself, “I’m expecting a major from the strike group to ground shortly. Once he or she does, we’ll have a quick meeting with Colonel Cameron, then get down to business. If you don’t mind, I’d like for y’all to wait here.”
He passed the coffee bulbs to Fargo and Nicole as they looked at each other, with Fargo finally asking, “Why wait here?”
“Cameron doesn’t know I’m going to ask you to help with the intel. I’m not confident that they’ve got all of the most current information, nor do they understand we want to keep this little excursion off the galactic radar.”
Nicole cocked her head, “So, a cell is what we’re going to be running?”
“A totally separate cell. Matter of fact, you won’t even be here. You’ll be in Rushing River, which is where the op will stage from.”
Fargo asked, “Why Rushing… Oh, never mind. Out of the way, less chance of being spotted, etc., right?”
Keads grimaced, “That, and Cameron doesn’t want to attack the outpost. He thinks we’d be better off to leave it alone and just monitor it.”
Fargo and Nicole both snapped around at that, chorusing, “What?”
“He’s afraid this will put Hunter in the Goon’s sights for a major incursion. He thinks if we just ignore them, they won’t ramp up their presence.”
Nicole spit, “Doesn’t he understand the Goon’s MO? They start with one Dragoon on planet, gradually expanding until they ‘claim’ the planet for themselves. They don’t
stop! They’ve never stopped! My god, we fought a war with them! Did he not attend those classes at the academy?”
Keads held up his hands, “I know, I know. He’s not a combat arms guy. He came up through the admin and PR side, getting just enough experience to qualify, and I use that term loosely, for a command position. That’s one of the reasons I was sent out here as the XO.”
Keads wrist comp beeped, “Well, looks like our major has grounded. I should be back in an hour or so. You can either wait here, or come back.”
They looked at each other and Fargo said, “Why don’t we come back, say at thirteen?”
“Suits.”
As they were leaving, they passed Colonel Cameron in the hall, he looked at them suspiciously, but said nothing. Once out of the HQ, Nicole sighed, “What in the hell?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t know. This is looking like a cluster in the making.”
“Well, it’s definitely going to be interesting…” Grabbing Fargo’s hand she continued, “Come on, I know a nice little place that has good food. And there’s a shop I want to check out.”
***
Fargo knocked on Colonel Keads’ side door, and it was quickly opened, “Come in. Ward is in the fresher. He’s talking the talk, but watching him with Cameron this morning makes me think he’s a pol.”
Fargo asked, “A pol?”
“Cameron junior.”
“Shit.”
“But he’s dropping with a full company. We will have that going for us. Troopers, by and large, make up for a lot of shortfalls in the officer corps.”
Nicole asked, “Including an intel section?”
“Not sure, but I’d think at company strength, they would, unless they’re going to remote off our section here.”
“I hope they bring their own,” she said, “Cuts down on the delay in passing info, and cuts out the middle interference.”
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and the colonel said, “Come.”
Major Noah Ward, at six feet and about one hundred seventy pounds, dark haired and almost holo star handsome, looked like he stepped out of a e-tainment vid. Dressed in tailored blacks, insignia and awards polished to a T, hair cut so short he was almost bald marched within three feet of the colonel’s desk, “Major Ward, reporting as ordered, sir.”
Keads replied, “At ease Major. These folks are your local contacts at Rushing River. Captain Fargo, head of the local militia in that area, and Chief Sergeant Levesque, his intel specialist. Let’s sit at the holo table and go over where we are.”
Ward nodded stiffly to them, and without a word, automatically took the seat at the far end of the table from the colonel. Fargo cocked an eyebrow, but took the far side seat as Nicole spun up the holo.
Keads turned to Fargo, “If we wanted to bring a company in covertly, how would you suggest doing it?”
Fargo thought for a second, held up his hand, and quickly queried his data comp. Seeing that Hyderabad was in system he replied, “I’d use the SV Hyderabad, she’s big enough to carry a company, including armor, and she’s a known entity in this quadrant. She could meet whatever transport the major has outside the gravity well, transfer there, and come in like a normal transport run.”
The major immediately objected, “Why a commercial ship, we could just use the destroyer?”
Keads broke in, “Low observable, major. A destroyer is not low observable. Chief could you bring up Rushing River port, please?” As she did, Keads pointed to the off side of the spaceport, “A night landing in an outer spot, exit this gate here, and your company will set up your field quarters here. You will minimize interactions with the local populous until the operation is complete.” Turning to Fargo he asked, “SV Hyderabad is certified, correct?”
“Yes, sir. She is certified and registered by GalPat as a contract carrier.”
“Good enough. Make it happen with the major.”
“Chief, would you please brief the major?”
Nicole reconfigured the holo to the Dragoon’s outpost, and started the briefing, only to be interrupted by the major, “Are you qualified to conduct this brief?”
Nicole took a deep breath, “Yes, Major. I have served in the Fleet and also tours at JIFMIC and JIOC. My last billet before retiring was section chief at the JIOC. Now if I may continue?”
Ward waved his hand negligently, “Go ahead, but I want my intel section to review this material.”
Nicole quirked a grin, then started the brief again. Two hours later, she’d completed the brief in spite of numerous interruptions, complaints about the paucity of data, questions about the accuracy of data and how it had been gathered. Fargo was biting his tongue by the time it was over, and Colonel Keads had turned an interesting shade of red a time or two.
Finally, Ward looked at the colonel, “Well, I think we need to postpone this operation until my people can do a recon and my intel section can put together a coherent set of briefs.”
Keads glanced at Fargo and Nicole before he said, “I’m sorry, Major, but that is not possible. We do not have the luxury of waiting that long. The strike will occur within twenty-four divs of you hitting the planet. As for the quality of the data collections and coherency, the captain here and two of his scout/snipers infiltrated the location and collected the data. The other data provided has been reviewed at the highest levels in GalPat, and this operation is approved at the JIOC and command level.”
Standing up, the colonel continued, “If you feel it necessary, discuss this with your chain of command, but understand this…” Keads leaned on the holo table, “This operation must take place within one planetary week. I will also be sending my comments, to your chain of command and I’d suggest you get with the program. Do I make myself clear?”
Major Ward turned an interesting shade of puce as the colonel concluded, but replied in a hushed voice, “Yes, sir. May I be dismissed?”
Keads grated out, “Yes. Fargo will communicate with the strike group to provide the ship’s information for your covert entry. Chief Levesque will be standing by to coordinate with your intel section.”
Ward came to attention, turned, and departed quickly. Keads shook his head, “Gah, Cameron junior in spades. Would you be willing to put your scout/snipers in place ahead of time to provide updated intel?”
“Hell, I’ll go myself!”
“No, I want you to coordinate with the major. You’ve already been up there, and like it or not, you’re the logical person to be the local POC.”
Fargo saw Nicole slump slightly, almost in relief and wondered what that was all about. He replied, “Yes, sir. I’ll make it work somehow. And I’ll get some folks up there early. Can we borrow WO Boykin again?”
Keads smiled, “I think the Warrant will be happy to do something other than ass and trash flights. You can discuss that with her on the return flight this afternoon.”
Old Friends
Colonel Randall walked slowly from the GalPat assault shuttle to the spaceport administration building, noting the condition of the equipment and personnel she could see, filing it away for future reference.
She spared a glance for the ugly tramp merchant ship sitting off to one side, then looked closer as she realized that was the ship that had brought Major Ward and his strike company down from the Star Gate orbit. A niggling thought bubbled in the back of her mind as she looked at the ship, but it wouldn’t surface, and she continued up the steps of the administration building. Seeing the guard at the top of the steps draw a breath, she said quickly, “No, don’t call attention on deck. This is an unofficial visit. No honors.” She thought back to Fargo’s instructions years before, Never salute an officer in the field unless you want to get them killed by a sniper. Or you can salute and get a sniper check, if they survive, no snipers…
The trooper gulped, slapped his rifle to present arms and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
Her lace came up with the trooper’s information and she asked, “So, Trooper Hanlon, wh
at do you think of this mud ball? And the people in charge?”
Trooper Hanlon gulped again, “Uh, ma’am… It’s not my place to say.”
“Unofficial, remember?”
“Uh, yes ma’am. It’s not bad. Major Ward is kinda flakey, but the locals are friendly compared to a lot of places. But it kinda sucks that we have to stay LO[3] all the time. The local yokel the Major is working with is one strange dude, but he seems to have his shit together, or at least better than the major. Sorry, ma’am.”
Randall made a waving motion, and the trooper continued, “It’s like he already knows what questions you’re going to ask, and I think he’s ex-mil. Maybe even ex-GalPat, but he’s too young to have retired. He’s closeted with the major in the conference room right now. Scuttlebutt is we’re going to strike tonight, late, and they are doing the final planning now.”
Randall nodded, “Thanks, Hanlon. Remember, no honors.”
“Yes ma’am.” Hanlon replied as Randall stepped through the main entry.
Walking down the main hallway, she saw that someone had made an attempt to decorate the building to relieve the sheer sameness of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Finding the conference room she stuck her head in, but it was empty. She continued to the end of the hall, but didn’t see anyone; finding a set of stairs there, she shrugged and climbed them to the second floor, and continued looking in offices.
Halfway down on the right side, she finally saw a figure sitting at the desk. It was Fargo, and he was deep in concentration staring at an actual paper map. A smile quirked the corner of Colonel Randall’s mouth as she stepped quietly through the door.
She managed to get almost to the front of the desk then popped to attention saying, “Sir! Sergeant Randall, Fargo’s Fuck Ups, reporting to the commander as directed!” Startled, Fargo looked up, and she executed a precise Terran Marine salute. She saw Fargo’s face change, almost like a wall coming down behind his eyes.
Fargo said, “Out of uniform as usual, Sergeant?” He stood, returned her salute formally, then walked around the desk, “I’m glad you made it, Nan, or should I call you Colonel?”