The incoming blaster fire intensified. Bolts sailed above the marines’ heads or crashed into the stone walls harmlessly, scorching where they hit and sending up puffs of smoke that smelled chalky and stale. Wash was again impressed at how this temple was built. The marines’ firing angles were superb, and the doros’ were terrible. For the dog-men to get a shot on a man, they had to be lucky—which, unfortunately, was sure to happen given enough time—or they’d have to possess the pinpoint accuracy of a rifle-qualified marksman. In the dark. Whether the doro possessed such shooters, Wash didn’t know.
But he felt confident the doros could be held at bay for as long as blaster packs could be found.
Or until the doros broke contact and stormed the open stairs.
Something sailed through the air toward the temple. Wash tracked it, realizing with a pang of adrenaline that it was a grenade. But the trajectory was too low—it wouldn’t make it over the wall. Doros didn’t have particularly good arm strength, and would have to get a good deal closer to get a grenade inside the temple. And they’d be dead before they pulled back their arms if they tried it.
The grenade bounced off the wall about halfway up, dropped back down, and detonated, sending a spray of rich black soil and shredded vegetation into the air, where it hung like a filthy mist in the jungle humidity.
“I’ll show you how it’s done!” shouted a marine, who promptly pulled a grenade from his flak jacket and tossed it in perfect textbook form out into the jungle. Its explosion caused a volume of incoming blaster fire to wink out as the doros nearest where it landed scattered.
“All right, Marine!” shouted Sergeant Shotton.
It took Wash several seconds to realize that the grenade had caused more than a lull in the incoming fire; for the moment, it had stopped altogether. He sent word for cease-fire all along the parapets.
Panting, sweaty marines waited, their rifles resting on the tops of the parapets, still pressed firmly into their shoulders as they hunched down searching for targets through their sights. The men were covered with grime and dirt and sweat—they looked exhausted—but their professionalism never wavered. They stood there, victorious sentinels listening to the pathetic whimpers and whines of their vanquished foes. Their thoughts, Wash knew, were not on the doros’ suffering—let ’em rot—but on the unsettling, almost frightening growls of the living doros who had retreated farther into the jungle.
“Headin’ down,” Wash said, moving down the stairs to get a first-hand look at what Berlin was seeing. If the doros were going to counterattack and attempt to storm the opening, they would likely do so following this reprieve. For this fight was far from over; quitting wasn’t the doros’ style. They’d shown a willingness to suffer heavy losses it if meant punching the Republic in the nose. There was no reason to think they’d back down against a small band of marines in the middle of their turf.
“What’s the word?” Berlin asked over his shoulder as Wash bounded down the steps toward him.
“They broke off contact for the time being. What have you seen from here?”
“Whole lot of nothing.” Berlin sounded annoyed, as though being denied the opportunity to get more doro kills was eating away at him. He was a legionnaire in that way at least, even though he was looking for those kills mostly to shore up his political aspirations, while the average legionnaires looked for kills because… KTF.
By contrast, the marine accompanying Berlin seemed relieved at the relative peace and quiet his new position had afforded him. But that wasn’t going to last long.
Wash patted his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, buddy. They haven’t left for good. Probably just finding a less suicidal angle of attack.”
“Which means this entryway. So we can expect a charge, right?”
Wash was impressed with Berlin’s tactical observation. Or maybe it was simple common sense. Either way, it was the truth.
“Yeah,” Wash confirmed. “They’ll throw everything they’ve got at us in order to get inside.”
“Sket,” mumbled the marine.
Wash studied the young man. He looked afraid, but not cowardly. No more fearful than they all were. Except for perhaps people like Denturo—who either really were afraid of nothing or had just mastered acting like they weren’t—and Berlin… who maybe didn’t know any better. The major was full of surprises.
“Hey, Marine,” Wash said, unable to read the man’s rank or name in the darkness. “I need your help with something.”
“Sir?”
“I’m not up to speed about everything your team brought with you. Legion recon teams always carry anti-personnel mines and occasionally a mobile auto-defense turret. How ’bout the marines?”
“We have mines, yeah. I’ve got two in my ruck. And we usually hump at least one auto-turret…” The marine looked to Berlin and back to Wash. “But this wasn’t set up exactly as a textbook operation, sir.”
Wash nodded. Was that ever the truth?
He hitched his thumb toward the steps leading up to the parapet. “I want you to find Sergeant Shotton up there and tell him I need those mines and the turret if you’ve got it. I’ll take your place here, but make it quick. We need to get set up before the doros find this back door.”
The marine was gone in an instant.
Wash shouldered his rifle and peered down its sights, joining Berlin in the jungle vigil.
“This as bad as it seems or…?” asked Berlin.
“Yeah. Pretty bad.”
“Well, this mission has been more than I expected almost from the get-go. But now we absolutely have to survive long enough to get out of here.”
Wash nodded grimly. The mission had been everything Berlin had hoped for… and then some. After what they’d done so far, all Berlin needed to do was make it out and his political future would be a done deal.
Berlin continued as if reading Wash’s mind. “You probably think I’m saying that because I want to win that seat in the House. But I’m not, Wash. If you can believe it, the House of Reason has barely been on my mind since we saw those artillery. All I can think about is what this mission could mean to the Republic.”
Wash smiled. “You’re just saying that to get a good quote out of me once you’re running for office.” Wash spread out his hands as if revealing the headline of a holonews article. “Fellow Legionnaire Says: Republic Was Only Thing D’lay Berlin Thought About on Psydon.”
While Wash chuckled, Berlin looked on stoically. “I’m serious, Wash. I didn’t know what—I mean, I had an idea something was out here, but I didn’t know what we’d actually run into. I figured maybe we jump a doro patrol, wipe them out, and head home. I never actually thought we’d find that artillery.”
Wash sniffed in the thick, humid air. He knew that, and part of him wanted to ask his friend what he was thinking to take the lives of these marines and throw them onto fate’s game board. But what was done was done.
“Wash…” Berlin said. “I know I’m not the legionnaire you are. Hell, I’m not a real legionnaire at all. I’m self-aware enough to know that.”
“No one thinks I’m a real legionnaire, either, buddy.”
Berlin shook his head. “No. They do. The points all do. They know what you did at Academy and they hate your guts for it. Why do you think you’re only a second lieutenant stuck doing jack-diddly in a broken-down office hab? That wasn’t the Legion, that was the other points. The ones who got major like me.”
“Well, I’ll take it as a compliment to be hated by people like that. Badge of honor, really.”
“My point is… you’re a leej. You know how important finding those platforms is to the Republic. If we can get word of their location before they get away… if the Republic can take them out… Wash, this war will be over in a matter of weeks.”
Wash sighed. Unfortunately, the biggest obstacle to getting the word out was being trapped in the ruin that Wash had led them into. “You’re right. The problem is, we’re trapped here, and help isn’
t coming—for us, anyway. The doros’ll get reinforced, and although we’ll kill heaps of them until our charge packs and supplies run out, eventually they’ll wipe us.”
A pause. The jungle hissed and thrived, providing no hint that the doros were on the move.
“Berlin, I’ve got us defending a death trap. We’ve got to take the opportunity to get out of it now that the dog-men broke contact.”
Berlin rocked forward on his haunches. “So… we make a run for it down the steps?”
“No. I’m not saying that at all. I think that would get us killed. But I do have a plan.”
“Spill it.”
“It’s going to require something of you, specifically. I know you didn’t pay close attention, but you’re going to need to behave like an honest-to-goodness Legion officer. And I know you’re capable of that.”
Berlin straightened. “Just tell me what to do.”
“The doros think we’re bottled up in here: only one way in or out. But I found a loose block that we can push out and exit from. I’m guessing when the doros return, they’ll bring all their forces to bear here on the stairs. They won’t be guarding the other sides of this place, not with any sort of strength, because they believe we have no means of escape that way.”
“This sounds good.”
“There’s a snag, though. I need to make sure they continue to believe we’re all still inside here even as we’re escaping. If they think they’re fighting all of us, and if the mines and turret—and I—can keep them back long enough, you’ll hopefully get a large enough head start to make for the peak and send the all-hail.”
“So… you stay here and shoot them while I play Legion hero and lead them all out?”
Wash nodded. “It’ll be an amazing campaign story.”
“The hell with my campaign, Wash.” Berlin sounded hot. “Let’s be realistic about this. Once we get out, we still have to make it across the valley to the peak. That’s a short march, I know, but a hard one. These marines need you and Sergeant Shotton leading the way, not me.”
Wash held out his hand helplessly. “I don’t know any other option. I’m not going to order a marine to stay back and sacrifice his life. I got us into this…”
“No. I can’t allow it. You know from the POW camp that I can light up any doros who come my way. I’ll hold them back.”
“Berlin, I can’t let you—”
“You can’t let me anything, I know. But I can order you. I’m still a major in the Legion, Lieutenant. And I’m ordering you to make it happen the way I said.”
Sergeant Shotton came down the stairs behind them. “Make what happen, sir?”
Wash was too shocked by what his friend had said to answer the marine, but Berlin jumped right in.
“Sergeant, we’re taking advantage of the doros breaking contact to get out of here. Our primary mission objective—at all costs—is getting the location of those artillery platforms to Legion command.”
Shotton gave Berlin a look of newfound respect. And Wash could understand why. This was a side of Berlin that he’d seen before, although in other areas of life—social gatherings, athletics, academia. He could take charge. It was what would ultimately make him a powerful House of Reason delegate. And now he was using that innate talent to rise to something more than an appointed officer in the Legion.
“Sir,” Shotton began, “I agree with everything you just said. But I don’t know how we’ll achieve that. It’s not like we can all run down those steps and expect the doros not to chase us down. Or is that what you wanted the mine and auto-turret—we do have one—for?”
“That’s exactly why I want them, yes. Have your men deploy them outside for maximum effectiveness. I want the auto-turret set up to pick off any doros who make it to the bottom steps. Something to keep them honest. Let them know that if they rush, they’ll feel the heat.”
Shotton signaled for three waiting marines to get to work. “And after that, sir?”
“After that, I’m ordering you and Lieutenant Washam to get out of here. The lieutenant says he’s found another way out.”
“Uh-huh,” grunted Shotton. “And… what about you, Major?”
“I’ll add a few more doro KIAs to my résumé while you’re getting out. I’ll attempt to follow if it looks like the worst is about to happen. And if I don’t catch up… it was nice serving with you and your marines, Sergeant.”
Shotton pushed his helmet to the back of his head and wiped his brow. A smile was on his face. “I don’t believe it.”
Wash didn’t believe it either. Yet he found himself going along with it, at least for now. He still hoped to convince his friend to switch roles. But for right now… something was showing itself in Berlin that these marines—and he—needed to see. Something that gave him a new hope and compelled him to obey the major’s orders. The magnetic will of someone who was determined to see that what needed doing would be done. It was that spark inside Berlin’s family that had driven them to the heights of wealth, launched them into the social stratosphere of the Republic’s core. A sheer force of will that made anything possible.
18
Corpsman Hellix stood just outside the triangle of parlaying leaders, seeming to wait for an opportune moment to impose on Wash, Berlin, and Sergeant Shotton’s conversation.
“What is it, Corpsman?” Wash asked.
“Sir, I’m hoping to know if I can perform some more thorough treatments on the men. Are the doros gone for good?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” Shotton grumbled.
Hellix nodded. “Understood. They’ve been in sustained combat for hours and need a rest—for their mental health as much as physical. Some of them are also going to need more treatment than I can provide. Biggest problem could be that I’m out of disinfecting ointment. The jungle isn’t going to be kind to all their cuts and scrapes.”
“Do what you can,” Shotton ordered, “but make sure everyone is prepared to move out at a moment’s notice.”
The marine sergeant faced Wash as his corpsman ran off. “So where’s this other way out you mentioned?”
Wash pointed to the opposite end of the temple. “I saw a loose block when I was taking a tour earlier. I tested its strength. I think we can push it out and slip through the opening.”
“Unless the wall comes tumbling down on us all.”
“That won’t happen. This ruin is still structurally sound.”
Berlin interjected himself in the conversation. “You know, I was thinking… are we sure this is what we want to do?”
Wash had expected this. Eventually. His friend had been acting heroic—brave, even—but that was in the heat of the moment. Marching to your death is a much harder thing when you’ve had time to think about it. He didn’t blame the man, and was ready to step back into the role he’d initially intended for himself.
“It’s all I’ve got,” Wash said. “And I don’t exactly like it, but I’m willing to stay and hold the doros back.”
Berlin rubbed where his chin would be through his helmet. “No, it’s not that. I’m thinking… Sergeant Shotton, you still have the ordnance you brought, right?”
“Yeah… but not enough to take care of that artillery. Not by a long shot.”
“No.” Berlin shook his head. “Not that. I was thinking… Maybe instead of trying to keep the doro out of the temple as long as possible, we want them to get in the temple. As many as possible, and then…” Berlin made a show of exploding out his fingers. “Boom.”
Wash nodded. Slow at first, but then picking up steam. This was actually a really good idea. One he should’ve thought of. “Yeah. If we can figure out a way to funnel enough of the doros in here and then initiate a remote detonation… that could cause a lot of damage.”
Shotton let out a considering grunt. “Hmm. But how we gonna get them in here without taking casualties?”
Berlin shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I’m saying that sounds a lot better than final suicide stand. What you say, Wash? I
f someone is gonna figure it out, it’s gonna be you.”
Wash looked around at the temple. The doros could regroup at any time. If this was going to be the plan, it needed to be done quickly. “I think we can do it. Sergeant Shotton, have some of your men plant the mines and get back inside the temple. And then… we need to set up some charges.”
***
Every marine was stationed on the parapets, evenly dispersed and watching for the doros. And they were definitely still out there. Their odd yipping, growling language carried through the night like haunts in the jungle.
“Everybody be ready,” Shotton urged his men. “No telling what direction these dog-men will come from.”
No telling for certain, but Wash had a pretty good idea. The doros weren’t fools—as far as Wash knew, there were no points in the doro insurgency—and they were unlikely to keep trying something over and over again with the hopes that, this time, it would work. If Wash’s guess was right, they’d stage another attack on the temple’s protected walls, much like the one before—but it would be a feint. By now they should have spied the temple stairs, and they would try to exploit it. That would be their real focus.
In fact, Wash’s plan depended on it. He wanted them to throw everything they had toward the open steps of the temple, taking heavy casualties in the process. And he would make them believe that they were dishing it out as badly as they were taking it.
A shot rang out from Parker’s sniper rifle. A split second later another of the doros’ odd buzzing projectiles sailed over the marines’ heads.
“Here they come!” shouted Denturo.
The doros began to fire at the three protected sides of the temple, but the incoming fire seemed halfhearted—much less than what had been sent in earlier.
It was a feint. Just as Wash had anticipated.
“Make those doros pay!” Wash called out, his voice echoing across the stone parapet. “But be ready for the main assault at the steps.”
Order of the Centurion Page 15