He made it back to Sheila and told her to sleep. He would wake her in an hour. He fired up the rescue radio and talked to the net controller, passing the coordinates to the T’Kab ambush site.
Brad startled himself awake. He must have dropped off, because the sun was high in the sky. He looked over at Sheila and saw her curled up in the fetal position. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and told her to get her stuff together and prepare to move out. Sheila zipped her flight suit up, handed Brad some trail mix and a juice box, and they took a moment for breakfast.
Brad led them north to avoid the missile launcher position and allow them to take advantage of a wooded creek bed that flowed down from the wooded highlands to the floor of the valley just east of their location. He spent a long time scoping the area with his binoculars before they moved down into the creek bed. Satisfied that if there had been a large T’Kab unit in the creek, he would have seen them by now, the two cautiously dropped down into the creek bed and followed it downhill into the valley. Brad figured it was the best place to get picked up by the corps.
They walked down the creek as silently as they could. When the creek flattened out at the valley floor, they took a northern branch, whose southern bank had gouged away, providing a natural bunker facing away from the direction of 5th Corps fire. To be doubly safe, he contacted the search and rescue detachment on the survival radio and reported their position in the creek bed and a sincere desire that no one would fire on them. This was a different net controller than he had talked to earlier and more of a stickler for regulations. He kept asking Brad to authenticate himself. Brad could think of no way to do so and neither could the net controller, but his standard operational procedure said he had to receive authentication in any situation in which the downed party could have been compromised.
Sheila laughed and said, “It’s too late. I’ve been compromised lots of times. Here, give me your tablet.” She took his tablet, set it on a rock, and set the self-timer. Then it took a picture of them and transmitted it to the net controller. Sheila had her fight suit unzipped with the sleeves tied around her waist.
The net controller came back on the air laughing. “Okay, you’re authenticated. I’ll pass your message to the Corps Fires Cell and tell them to make sure not to drop anything heavy on your heads. I’ll send your picture along to give it a human face.”
Chuckling the entire time, the net controller forwarded the picture of them shooting the bird at the camera and their location data.
Brad put the survival radio away and asked, “Sheila, what would you have done if that hadn’t worked?”
She chuckled and said, “Well, you and he would have gotten one hell of a show.”
Brad did not understand what she meant right off, but as it dawned on him what she was suggesting he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “Oh? Oh. Oh!”
* * * * *
General Brown made one of his infrequent walking tours of the spaceport and looked at all of the entrenchments, bunkers, and tangle wire. He asked to see the commander and the next higher commander. Mary came out of her bunker with the general’s aide. “Lieutenant Colonel Chen, 1st Special Operations Capable Battalion, sir. How may I help you, sir?”
General Brown looked Mary up and down, then turned his attention to the battalion area and said, “Colonel, your area is a mess. You look like you are ready for the whole bug army to march in here at any minute. Where is your commander?”
“General, mine is an independent battalion and directly under division troops. Major General Allans is off the planet, on the Milton. As far as my battalion area, I would have more defensive preparations than this, but all the divisions engineer assets got pulled away for a higher priority mission. Sir, I’d like your opinion on something,” and she led him onto the roof of her bunker.
The general followed her, paying more attention to her backside than anything else and then he looked up. Stretched before him as far as the eye could see were black shiny carcasses being dumped into long trenches and covered over, and a new trench being dug.
The general turned to Mary and said, “It seems there is an after action report I have yet to read. Did your battalion do this?”
She replied, “I had a lot of help, sir.”
“How many did you lose?”
“Five KIA, including one of my medics. He is being considered for the Medal of Honor. That might be why you haven’t seen the after action report. It was probably attached to the citation and endorsements by Major General Allans, Lieutenant General Tsien, and Vice Admiral Conover, and forwarded before you arrived and assumed overall command, sir.”
“Do you still have a copy, Colonel?”
“I do, sir. I’ll forward it to you as soon as you leave, sir.”
“Thank you, Colonel. Carry on.”
* * * * *
Major General Allans and Rear Admiral Diggs conferred on their pending subordination under the newly created 16th Assault Landing Task Force and the 8th Marine Expeditionary Force.
Rear Admiral Diggs commented, “The Milton will become flagship for the 16th, under a three-star to be named later. I’m betting they’ll pluck Minacci off of Fleet staff. I was his exec before. He’ll be good at using us wisely. I see a lot of planet hopping raids on major communications hubs. If we can control the major cities and the routes between them, we control the world. If we can jump ahead of the corps and secure the route of advance for them, we can subdue this planet.”
Major General Allans said, “I don’t know who will command the 8th Marine Expeditionary Force. I guess it could be Baines out of the School Command. He’s good and a bit of an academic mind, I’ve been told. Whatever, it will put a layer between me and Brown and that’s a good thing.”
“Are you having trouble with Brown?”
“Who isn’t? It’s rumored that Tsien came up with this marching through Georgia plan just to get out from under him.”
“How is Tsien’s corps doing? The reports suggest he is facing some steep resistance.”
“He got hit by a swarm this morning. Hit him on his flank and into his support group. The battle was still going on when I came up.”
* * * * *
Ingrid continued to fire into the leading edge of the swarm, evaporating 40 to 50 at a pop, but there were a lot still coming. Then she heard a loud rumbling from behind her, where she couldn’t see because of the trees. Captain Kopinsky called cease-fire. In the ensuing silence, the rumbling got louder. Then there was a roar as a cell of three A-100s flew over the swarm, dropping plasma bombs. In a blinding series of plasma explosions, hundreds of T’Kab simply ceased to exist.
She was about to start firing again when she saw movement across the river. One of the brigades was swimming the river and attacking into the flank of the mostly decimated swarm, still reeling from the heavy attack ship strike. Those along the flank ran away from the assaulting brigade and the swarm collapsed upon itself. In an hour, the swarm no longer existed as a cohesive unit or a viable threat.
Ramirez announced he had to pee and jumped down from the turret to the ground without his weapon. When Ingrid called him back to get his weapon, he had already opened his fly and was relieving himself behind he tank. He was in mid-urination when a soldier T’Kab lunged for him with its mandibles, grabbed him around the waist, and killed him by shaking him in two. Ingrid slewed the machine gun around and put the better part of a belt of ammo into the insectoid. Captain Kopinsky and the first sergeant heard Ramirez’s scream and Ingrid’s machine gun and came running. They found a thoroughly pulverized T’Kab and two parts of Ramirez. They yelled for a medic and had him bring a body bag. Kopinsky also yelled for the Mech platoon to dismount and clear the woods.
Ingrid jumped down and threw up, all the time yelling at Ramirez’s dismembered body, “Why didn’t you take your weapon? Your damn bladder could have waited that long, you pea brain.” She threw up again and broke down into uncontrollable sobs. The medic came and bagged Ramirez for mortuary affairs.
The first sergeant squatted down next to Ingrid, where she was still heaving and crying. He said quietly, “Go ahead. Get rid of it all. You at least got the bug that got him. I never got the killer of my first loss. It was an artillery round that killed my guy. He was standing there talking to me and shoved me down in a hole. When I quit spitting the sand out and cussing him, he was gone. There was nothing left.”
Ingrid heaved again, but nothing came out. She said, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, just to let you know you aren’t the only one that’s been through this and you won’t be the last. Now drink some water and clean the puke out. Get back in that turret and we’ll send you a new charger to train. Come on, Sergeant. You didn’t think those stripes didn’t come with a down side, did you?”
A thoroughly numb Ingrid climbed into the charger’s position and made up enough charges to fill the rack. She then took the TC position and started scanning for targets.
* * * * *
Now came the tricky part. Brad and Sheila had to attract the attention of the 5th Corps elements without getting shot in the process, by either side. Brad used his binoculars to spy out the T’Kab ambush positions, call them in, and watch the AG-122s destroy them. It was quite fulfilling. He credited himself with five assists for the day. So far, no T’Kab had ventured down the creek bed. At 1500 hours he saw the first corps vehicle approaching. The peculiar amphibious vehicle was in the lead and fell under the responsibility of the division engineer and chief of staff.
Brad watched it go by, followed by a Mechanized Company Team with a tank platoon attached. The company went by with all guns bristling and they looked nervous; that would not be his first choice to walk out to. He and Sheila waited for the first few units to go by and picked a vehicle with a lot of antennae, then stepped cautiously out into the path. The vehicle rolled slowly up to them as the vehicles behind went on around. The rear hatch opened up and a private with a Yestepkin rifle cautiously walked up to them and, holding the rifle on them, motioned for them to come to him one at a time. Brad was just about up to him when a colonel stepped out and said, “Paxton, isn’t it obvious they aren’t bugs? Put your rifle down. You two hustle up and get in here. This ain’t a healthy place to stand around.” Brad and Sheila scrambled to get in the back of the command post vehicle and introduced themselves as the track started moving again.
Brad said, “Sure glad you stopped for us, Colonel. The bugs have surrounded us for the last 48 hours, when our AG-122 went down. I’m Flight Officer Brad Mason and this is Flight Officer Sheila Douglas.”
“Glad we could be of help. Welcome to 2nd Brigade, 52nd Mechanized Division. You’ll get to ride with us for the next six hours as we try to make up some lost time from all the ambushes. Were you the ones spotting and calling in targets today?”
Brad answered, “I was, sir.”
“Good on ya. That’s why we’re making up time today. Once the AG-122s started prosecuting the targets, they could see more and more. Pretty soon, they reduced the ambushes to minimal and now we’re moving. We’re just looking for a wide spot to bring the 30th Armored Division alongside and have two divisions abreast.”
Brad dug through his pack and came up with a memory device. “Maybe this will help, sir. It’s some multispectral imagery I took of this route to almost in sight of the city.”
The colonel popped the device into a console and quickly reviewed the video while simultaneously listening to incoming reports. He stabbed his finger at a point and pushed some buttons on the screen.
“Perfect! It opens up just past this wood line and the ground looks firm. If we slow down just a tad past that junction, the 30th can gun it and move up alongside us. Let me get this data to division.”
He pushed some more buttons and a screen popped up with what Brad assumed was the division commander.
“Sir, you can call off the search for the missing pilots; I have them here with me. They both look unharmed. One of the pilots gave me the data I just sent you. I think we can get the 30th alongside us in about nine kilometers. I marked the junction. If we slow down just enough, they can zoom on by and come alongside.”
“Looks good, Jim, I’ll get this to Corps. Thank the pilot for me,” and the connection was broken.
“You heard the man, thanks.”
After 48 hours with little sleep and running on adrenalin, Brad was out of it. As he and Sheila were about to nod off, the colonel had them unload their weapons in case they started having nightmares. Brad and Sheila curled up on the two jump seats by the rear hatch and slept for the next six hours.
* * * * *
Mary packed her stuff, little that it was, and placed it out where it would be loaded on her X-55. The 8th Marine Expeditionary Force commanding general had arrived with his three divisions, and the 3rd Assault Landing Division was chopped to him. The MEF was being sent to assist 5th Corps in seizing and garrisoning the T’Kab city. The other divisions of the MEF were self-deploying, meaning they could haul all their people in organic transport. The 3rd ALD had not come under that manning and equipment document yet and had two battalions in each brigade that were leg infantry. They walked everywhere they went and only had minimal transporters to move critical logistics and headquarters equipment.
This was all resolved by Rear Admiral Digg agreeing to bring the 3rd back up to his group and land them wherever the general needed them. LTG “Wild Bill” Baines instantly saw the advantage of this and agreed. The thought came to him of landing the 3rd to close the city’s back door, and he put his operations officer on it.
Mary was looking forward to being back on the Milton. The smell of rotting T’Kab was starting to get to her, and she would not miss that. She looked around to see if there was anything to take away from here that a future museum curator would want. She thought for a moment, called over her logistics officer, and gave him a mission. Before they left, he had accomplished it.
Once up on the Milton, Mary got her Marines settled, weapons cleaned, and sensitive items secured. She released them and the water recyclers worked at max to provide clean water to wash off the dirt and grime from three weeks of combat. She knew better than to try and shower before dinner and sat around in her sweaty uniform until the initial surge went through the showers, waited two hours for the cisterns to refill, then got a warm shower with plenty of water.
Later, her logistics officer asked where she wanted the souvenir. She told him to label it with the coordinates where it came from and what it was and store it in with the special mission equipment.
Down on the planet, the headquarters commandant for the 28th Maneuver Support Command making his rounds came to the corner and found a light pole holding up the perimeter fence where the old corner fence post had been. Now who would do this? He assumed it might have been done by one of the engineers working outside the wire. Probably swung too wide and knocked the pole down and this is what they replaced it with. It was nothing to get concerned over. He wondered if he could get the light working as he moved on.
Chapter Twenty
Andrew Thomas Blake was born on the 25th of September at 2310 hours Geneva time and he weighed 3 kilograms, 260 grams. The precedence of grandfathers’ names was determined by a coin toss, witnessed by all future grandparents. The first human child born on G’Durin or anywhere within the K’Rang Empire was a darling of the human-interest story reporters. Pictures of young Andrew Thomas held by the K’Rang Elders and the president of the Galactic Republic were featured on every news program for two weeks, until the next shiny thing replaced him.
* * * * *
Lieutenant General Ivor Tsien pulled his command vehicles to a short bluff overlooking the city in the distance. He climbed up through the roof hatch and used his high-powered binoculars to look at the city. It was smaller than the capital by half. The buildings were not as tall or as well finished. Some buildings could be seen to have exposed logs as part of the walls. The stucco finish, looking like sprayed
concrete in the capital, looked more like mud slapped in place here; the capital’s grand avenues here were two lane dirt roads.
They had seen no resistance since leaving the river valley. Their march had been unimpaired and almost an administrative exercise versus a tactical one. That was good, for it gave him time to integrate the Marines that General Brown felt compelled to attach to him. If General Brown had bothered to look at an image or a map, he would have seen this much smaller city as no challenge to his five divisions. Wild Bill Baines was a breath of fresh air though, a Marine with a sense of maneuver. He had more than a frontal assault in his book of tricks.
Wild Bill proposed to land the 3rd ALD behind the city to the east, to trap the T’Kab in the city, while two divisions boxed the city to the north and south. With Ivor’s divisions coming in from the east, it would put the city under siege. Ivor studied the road grid and saw a radial network of streets from a central plaza out to the city’s edge, along the cardinal and ordinal directions. Connecting roads ran between these roads in rough squared concentric circles, until they got close to the central plaza; then there were just big city blocks and walkways.
Ivor planned to enter the city at the northwest, west, and southwest roads and push through to the plaza, secure the plaza and barricade the city, with the 52nd Mechanized Division taking the north half of the city and the 68th Mechanized taking the south half of the city.
Thereafter, his plans got murky. They still had no way to communicate with the citizens or government to compel surrender or negotiate a peace. The Supreme Queen was still considering the offer of terms and a phenomenon was occurring. More and more T’Kab were dying and not being replaced. With their queen captive, the attendants did not know what to do. Analysts thought they probably were stuck in a decision loop on whether to hatch a new queen from the eggs they had or not, as she was still alive. Therefore, they were doing nothing, and no new T’Kab were being hatched to take the place of those dying off in the normal course of their short lives of only two to three years, or as a result of the ongoing military operations.
All Enemies Foreign and Domestic (Kelly Blake series) Page 26