A Hero

by Stephen Arseneault

  I waved my hand for Team Bravo to continue as the others laid down suppressing fire. We rushed up the ramp with Hayden leading the way. As we hit the top, we were met by an onrush of Togmal who were trying to force their way out. I gutted the first one with a plasma round as the Marine just to my left exploded.

  Hayden took out two with his blaster before charging into their center, too close for weapons fire. I could see a flash from the blade of his knife as he tore into the enemy fighters, while screaming obscenities at the top of his lungs. The move startled them enough to throw their command into chaos. We each pulled our blades as we entered the mix.

  The fighting was hand-to-hand for the first several minutes before a Togmal commander in back decided to sacrifice a few of his own with plasma bolts to their backs. It was a mistake, only clearing the way for the Marines following behind us. Before they knew what was happening, three of our Marines entered their cockpit, taking out the pilot and his crew before they could take the ship back to orbit.

  The Marines from Team Alpha followed us up the ramp. Bodies exploded. Screams of pain came from both sides. The Marines around me, including those in my squad, rushed forward like savages.

  As we pushed the Togmal further into their ship, I noticed a green comm flash on my wrist. I made the mistake of answering. "This is Jackson!"

  "Hold your position, Jackson. We need that tarmac!"

  I had to smirk to myself. "We're holding, Captain. This tarmac is ours."

  The captain continued to yell into the comm as I got back into the brawl. Whatever he was saying didn't matter. We were in a fight and command of that fight was ours.

  As I attempted to raise my blaster for a shot, a Togmal warrior jumped me from the side.

  — Chapter 18 —

  * * *

  With a speed and agility I had not expected nor seen before, Sheila dove from my left, driving her knife into the neck of my attacker. It went so deep, it took two hard pulls to retrieve it. Without a word, she charged off toward her next victim.

  It was then our team had our first casualty. Juan had a Togmal blade jammed into his right shoulder. As he returned a thrust of his own, a second Togmal bashed his other shoulder with the butt of a rifle. Juan went down to his knees. I blasted the warrior as he raised his rifle, but I could not stop the knife-blade that came up under Juan’s chinstrap. As the proud Togmal warrior grinned, the iron fist of Hayden the Hammer bashed in his skull.

  Losing a teammate should have been chilling, but at that moment there was no time to grieve. We pushed ahead, slashing and stabbing, relentless in our rage, unrelenting in our determination.

  It was then when I again noticed the voice of the captain. "Gunships coming in! You now have air support! What's your status!"

  I switched channels. "Evacuate the transport! Now! Move! Move! Move!"

  For whatever reason, the Togmal who remained alive didn't open fire during our retreat. It was a blatant mistake. As the last Marine of TX512 jumped from the ramp, our gunships came over the horizon. We had just made the safety of the ditch when the first cannon rounds impacted the transport's side.

  It was a beautiful sight. Blue streaks, orange flashes, debris, flame, and smoke. I wanted to stand and cheer.

  With the arrival of our gunships, the Togmal warships took to the heavens. A nearby transport managed to lift into the air only to be knocked back to the ground in flames. A series of plasma rounds obliterated the remaining transport where it sat. Our gunships caught the troops who had disembarked in an open field, annihilating them with a parade of plasma fire.

  I stood up in the ditch to view the Togmal ship in front of us. It was in flames. We had lost two-thirds of our company, nearly half of those casualties were directly due to mistakes by command. Those who remained were ready to celebrate. Cheers rang out.

  Hayden put a bloodied hand on my shoulder. "That has to have been the wildest ride anyone could imagine."

  "You can take that to the bank."

  "What? Take what?"

  I sighed. "It's another old saying. Denise would have been proud I remembered."

  Hayden chuckled. "Yeah. You're gonna have to give those up. I have no idea what you're saying half the time."

  I shrugged. "Has to be my delivery. They always had character coming from her."

  "Well, maybe you just need to practice them in private for a while. At least until you get good at it." Hayden slapped me on the shoulder.

  I turned to Sheila who was standing next to me. "You have any comments?"

  She had a look of sadness on her face as she stared at the burning wreckage in front of us. Juan was on her mind. Togmal blood covered her battlesuit.

  I said, "Thanks for your help in there. You put up a good fight."

  "Not good enough for Juan."

  "You did the best you could. I owe you my life. It was just his time. You sure you're okay? You look in pain."

  "Just his time? I could have stopped it. I should have stopped it."

  "This is war. We can't be everywhere at every moment. Some of us will be lost."

  "You don't seem very concerned about it. I thought out of all of us you might be the most affected."

  "I've learned to bury the pain." It was a lie. The pain of my loss clawed at my subconscious every time I closed my eyes. "It's the only way I can function on a daily basis. I suggest you do the same. Celebrate what he was, don’t dwell on how he died."

  "Don't know if I can. I'm not wired that way." Sheila looked down. "My chest is on fire. It has to be black and blue. Gonna take me a month before I can wear anything low-cut."

  Her chest protector showed multiple gouges where the Togmal had tried their best to take her out with a knife. Hayden put his hand around the back of her neck for a gentle squeeze.

  After a quick headcount, I opened a comm to the captain. Streaks of drying Togmal blood dripped from my faceshield.

  The captain had an angry face. "Why weren't you responding, Private!"

  I unclipped my chinstrap and took off my helmet. "Sorry, sir. Was in the middle of a firefight."

  "Firefight? What is going on there, Private?"

  "We need assistance, Captain. We have casualties. As to the fight, an enemy transport landed, sir. We charged it, killing most of the Togmal warriors aboard before our gunships came in and finished them off. We held the tarmac, sir. Not one of them made it to the ground."

  "Noted. Assistance is on the way. Who is in command there?"

  "I guess that would be me, Captain. The first Togmal salvo took out our CO and sergeants."

  "I'll be sending someone out to write up a full report, Private. In the meantime, assemble your men and wait for a pickup."

  "The Togmal threat, sir?"

  "They are gone. Our boys gave them a beating and they high-tailed it out of there."

  "Good to know, sir. Any idea of casualty counts for our units? I can give you ours."

  "Pass them along. And, Private, those figures are command knowledge only."

  With that the captain closed the comm. It was just as well. I was reaching for the button to close the channel myself.

  Hayden huffed. "They aren't saying, so we can guess it probably isn't good."

  "We stopped a ground assault. That has to be something."

  Max stood beside us as we watched the transport wreckage continue to burn. "Nothing like what you picture in your mind; a thousand times scarier and more intense."

  Hayden gave a light punch to his shoulder. "You did good in there little man. Lived up to your name. Mayhem suits you."

  We climbed from the ditch and assembled as our transport came into view. Five minutes later, we were in the air and headed back to the bunkers. Twenty minutes after, I was standing in a sonic shower. Sheila showered beside me. She was right, her upper chest looked as though it had been beaten with a hammer. She turned away as if trying to play coy. Her eyes showed disappointment when I didn't play along with her game.

  The following day we had a s
tream of psychologists coming through our barracks asking us how we felt and what we were thinking during the raid. I found them annoying, but as the questions continued, I thought that information might be useful for training other Marines. As I well knew, grief could lead to depression, sometimes causing actions counter to what common sense would normally tell you to do.

  As the interviews went on I got the feeling they were not intended for the purpose I thought. The long series of questions went well beyond our experiences in battle. What I had done or where I was as a ten-year-old had no bearing on what we had just gone through.

  I took note as tempers of the other Marines flared and finally asked the question, "Why are you really here?"

  The explanation ended with the psychologists leaving as abruptly as they had come. The whole shindig had been sponsored by a corporation looking to make pharmaceutical sales to the survivors. It had been arranged by a politician with close ties to a deep-pocketed entity.

  It was another sign of the sorry state of the Union. We were at war, and yet our fighting men and women were being looked at as opportunities for profit. I would not be answering such questions for any similar investigations in the future.

  Our final casualty count came in at ninety-two. Prior to the raid, company TX512 consisted of one hundred forty-two Marines. Only fifty of us had survived. And of those, fourteen remained in hospital care. It wasn't until after we had a memorial service for those lost when the captain's man showed up asking questions.

  Lieutenant Dershal was thorough with what he asked. I gave details as I knew them. Other members of the company were able to confirm those details when questioned. I wasn't expecting any congratulations to come my way, especially given my straightforward answers when it came to the orders I had received. The captain indicated as much during a short discussion after he read the report.

  A week had gone by before a shuttle came to collect me for a hearing. I expected to be thrown in the brig for insubordination. Instead, I received a comm from TC on my way out.

  "Congratulations on your victory. I heard you came through unharmed."

  "Right, victory. We lost a lot of good people due to incompetent orders."

  "I read your report. To put your mind at ease, you are not going to be reprimanded."

  I tilted my head. "You've been watching me?"

  "I've had people watching over you. I still feel responsible for you being there."

  "You should."

  "Yes. Well, when you feel you've had your fill of killing Togmal, you know you have a position back here with Aarlis Mining."

  I took in and let out a deep breath as I thought about the offer. "Thanks, but I think I'll pass. These raids aren't over. We have a lot of work left to do."

  "Indeed. The Togmal attacked four other colony cities today. Each fared better than your company did here. I hope that at least is some consolation, knowing that leadership is not all bad."

  "I'll hold my current thoughts on that in reserve. How's Echelon? Wait... you're talking to me, so you must be here."

  "Only for the next hour. I chose to stop here after a visit to Merchain. The mines have made their first delivery of ore, which we will be using to build more warships."

  "Congratulations to you then."

  "Yes. Thanks. I have to go. Enjoy your visit there at command, Ray." TC returned a pursed smile. "You've earned it."

  The shuttle I was in landed beside the main base on Haven. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I soon found out. Instead of the expected berating by the captain, a colonel was there to give me a newly-made Haven-Defense combat ribbon and a promotion to full corporal.

  TC was right. I had earned it, but it was nothing I sought. When I returned to my company, they were waiting with a celebration of their own. It was a welcoming I very much appreciated.

  Two weeks later, a contingent of new recruits landed at the bunkers, bringing our company back to full strength. We had a new lieutenant, sergeants, and this time a major. Five of those who had fought beside me also earned a promotion in rank, including Hayden and Sheila, only their promotions were limited to that of PFC. We also got a gunnery sergeant added to our barracks.

  Gunny Marcos had seen combat on Haven. It was a team under his command who had forced a Togmal company into the field where our gunships ground them into the dirt. He seemed intelligent enough, and he had the ear of our fresh-out-of-OCS lieutenant.

  Gunny said, "I looked over the report, Corporal. You mashed a few toes at command."

  "Wasn't my intent. I was just being honest."

  "Yes, well you got the captain sent to the back lines. From the word I got, he botched the command of a lot of that operation. He had a staff of lieutenants who were yes-men, not willing to question any order. Which is what happened to your company."

  I shook my head. "You never know how someone is going to react when put in a situation like that for the first time. Some people act. Some people freeze."

  "Not totally true. That's why we train. That's why we have war games and simulations. The fact those people made it to command, I'm afraid, is a symptom of our poor overall readiness. Haven, this planet, was not a top posting prior to this war. It was about as backwater as you could get. Now these remote colonies are the front line. I think you'll see some big changes in the coming months."

  "We can only hope."

  Only a few weeks had passed since the raid on Haven. Orders came down for all Marines to participate in almost continuous training. After a single attack, we had gone from one extreme to the other. If anything, it kept our minds occupied.

  The Togmal raids fell silent again. There had been no sightings for months. The damaged spaceport on Haven was being rebuilt. Command coordinated operations out of four temporary hangers.

  Over at the bunkers, we had been training every day. The new recruits grumbled. Those of us who now considered ourselves veterans, kept our heads down and did as we were told. Back in the Union, there had been an initial surge in recruitment after the first raids, but that had declined quickly.

  Word had gotten back to the colonies that being a Marine was hard work and dangerous. The casualty counts and the regiment of constant training was a deterrent for recruitment. Those who didn't have much else to do and would typically join, were now avoiding the commitment. It was just as well, there were already enough among us who seemed less than motivated.

  The small raids by the Togmal were shocking, but that shock had faded without further action. Most citizens had returned to their regular, boring lives. Our ranks at Haven had swelled from the original five hundred who had been shipped off to Dunedin, to more than two thousand. Two entirely new bases were under construction.

  It was morning when Gunny Marcos entered our bunker. "We've been given a reprieve from the day's marching. You can leave your gear, it will be picked up for you. This platoon is being sent to the new base at Bellgard. It has yet to be commissioned. We will be spending two weeks there, writing up everything we can find that is sub-par. Command has one opportunity in this contract to have things fixed before final sign-off with the contractors."

  Max raised a hand. "How thorough are they expecting us to be?"

  "Not very. I've been through this before. I've seen a team turn in a list with more than a hundred deficiencies. Brass tends to pick what they believe are the top five. They will sign an agreement with the contractor agreeing to correct those five issues in a timely manner. They close the contract after, stating it is complete. Personally, I've seen those corrections are far too often ignored."

  "So why send us at all?"

  "It's in the contract. Command may not be expecting much of a list, but we will be providing one. I don't care if it's a leaky sink, unpainted surface, or a door that won't close properly, we are going to push for a proper sign-off. And keep in mind, this is where we will be living. Probably not us specifically, but fellow Marines. So, we do this right."

  The more time I spent around the Gunny, the more
I liked him. He wasn't overbearing, but he was far from soft on us. Our entire platoon took the assignment seriously.

  The following day we stood in a newly constructed restroom. Hayden walked over to a row of toilets. "This can't be right."

  I chuckled. "Handles on the right instead of left?"

  "No. Look at them. They might as well be for a child."

  Sheila laughed. "Your bum too big to sit on one of those?"

  "Maybe. I have to wonder if they think we're Marines or dwarfs. I'm writing this one up."

  In other rooms we found lack of ventilation and indications of mold. One building had a skylight installed where daylight was showing around the edges. The first time it rained the room would be flooded. In all, we had identified ninety-seven deficiencies on the first day.

  We gathered in a bunkroom for the evening where we had laid bedrolls out on the floor. All of our comms blew up at once with an alert. The Togmal were hitting Haven again!

  — Chapter 19 —

  * * *

  It took only seconds to bind and stow our bedrolls in our packs. We got outside fast, waiting on a transport and orders for where we would defend. Those orders never came. Neither did the transport.

  Communications were chaotic at best. A dozen Togmal warships had blown through our fleet of two cruisers and three destroyers—as if they didn't exist. They dropped through the atmosphere with little advance warning, hitting our old bunkered barracks complex just after dark. The underground barracks collapsed on our Marines without enough time for them to evacuate.

  Two transports loaded with Togmal warriors emptied into the complex. They destroyed our command center. Our remaining fighters died defending their base, while we stood out in the open—waiting for a ride.

  Gunny Marcos made his own command decision.

  "Listen up. We're heading into those hills over there. We'll search out and find a location we can best defend. It doesn't look like a transport is coming, so without orders, we fight on our own."