by Dennis Young
Talice struggled to rise, saw Jance zigzagging her way toward the car. Fired and missed. Fired and missed. Jance fired, her AP rounds ripping through the thin groundcar material, throwing up debris and dust and ice.
Talice fired again. A round from Jance ripped through her shoulder. She cried and fell, the pulse rifle driven from her hands. She rolled and lay bleeding, shaking, her visor shattered by the butt of her own weapon as it bounced from her helmet. Her body spasmed and her heart fluttered.
Jance appeared at the edge of her vision, gun in hand. Talice waited for the end. Waited for Jance’s AP rounds to make those nice, neat holes in her body until all her blood ran out.
She was cold. She was shaking. She knew she was going to die.
Jance came around the corner of the groundcar, kicked away the pulse rifle laying on the icy ground. She watched as Talice continued to shake. “What the hell is wrong with you? Spastic? Brain drain? Scared shitless? If you’re trying to fool me, I’ll cut your fucking heart out. Damn you! How dare you take this from me!”
Jance nudged her with a boot. Talice didn’t even have the strength to grab her foot to trip her.
“Get up! Get the fuck up and fight me! Damn you!” Jance kicked her. The heavy boot glance off her armor.
“Dammit, I’m not gonna kill you like this. I can’t kill you like this! It wouldn’t mean anything. You’ve fucking taken it away from me!”
Jance lowered her pulse rifle. Talice noticed the hand-written inscription on the barrel. It read Highway to Hell. She didn’t have the strength to even chuckle.
Jance glanced above, saw the drone hovering. She actually waved. Her eyes returned to Talice, bleeding on the ice. “So I’ll save it for next time. You’ll pull through. Hell, I hardly even scratched you.” She touched Talice again with her boot, just to make sure she was still alive. “Yeah, you’ll live. I’ll see you again, and then I’ll kill your ass good.” She slung the pulse rifle over her shoulder and looked back to the western building. “Goodbye ’til then, Talice.”
Jance’s footsteps faded. The shadows grew longer. Finally, they covered Talice. She still couldn’t move. She was freezing now. Numb. Quiet grew. She closed her eyes.
* * *
Sounds intruded into the darkness. Harsh sounds.
Then she was floating. No… lifted, then floating.
Then jostled around. She could barely feel it.
It was dark, even with her eyes partly opened. Then bright.
Then echoes of machinery and voices and jostling once more.
Someone was removing her armor.
Someone was calling her name.
Someone stuck something in her arm, and she winced.
Someone screamed, “She’s alive!”
Talice wanted to cheer, but she didn’t have the strength. She didn’t have any strength. Are they talking about me? But I’m dead… aren’t I?
Something warm began to fill her body. She smiled. She opened and closed her eyes again, still smiling.
* * *
Bird One…
Talice woke. Alive. She glanced around, her vision fuzzy. She came to realize there was a patch over her left eye and forehead. She tried to turn her head, but couldn’t.
“Easy there, Captain.” Jamal Orlando came into her view. “We’ve got you in a restraint for now. You’ve got a couple of chipped vertebrae where that AP round crossed your back. Plus, your shoulder wound. And your ribs. And that bump on your forehead, and visor glass in your eye.” He smiled. “You’re a pretty tough cookie, Captain. And you’re gonna be okay.”
Talice wanted to shake her head but couldn’t. “I thought I was dead.”
“Another half hour on the ice and you might have been. But really, the ice is what likely saved you. Slowed down your heartrate. Chilled you down a bit.”
Talice was almost numb from the neck down. Her eyes showed panic. “Am I paralyzed?!”
Jamal laid a gentle hand on hers. “No, you’re just on nerveblock. Look, I’ll have Mac come in and talk to you.”
He started to walk away, but she willed her hand to take his wrist. He paused. “What about the team?”
Jamal smiled softly. “They’re in better shape than you are. Evans is confined to his bed, but everyone else is on their feet.”
Talice’s gaze moved around the infirmary. She could hear the thrum of Bird One’s engines.
Jamal nodded. “We’re on the way home. Be there in three days.”
Jance couldn’t kill me laying there bleeding to death. Missed her chance. Won’t get another one. Ever. “Thanks. Ask Mac to come in when she has a minute.”
“Will do. Now rest. Doctor’s orders.” Jamal exited, turning out the lights as he left. Talice closed her eyes again. And smiled.
* * *
Twenty-four hours, and Mac’s hoverchair sat beside Talice’s infirmary bed. They hadn’t said a lot, because Talice was still under mild sedation, and Mac was worn thin with worry and seeing to the team.
Finally, Bělinka and Nikolay had come in for a moment, then Junior and Martin and Ollie, the Brit limping slightly with his leg in an aircast, then Briggs and Rory and Dosu. The man-mountains came in one at a time, because the infirmary was that small and they were that big. But Mac was there and stayed as everyone took their exit.
Mac’s hand rested on Talice’s bare arm, the one without the IVs in it. “You look better today. A little more color in those pale cheeks.”
Talice said nothing for a long moment. “If it wasn’t for these damn bugs in my system, I’d have kicked her butt.”
“Doesn’t matter for now. The job is done, and we did it as ordered.”
Talice started. “Holy shit! Did the Marines pick up Mikal? I sent a commtext to Fawkes —”
“They got him. Take it easy, you’ve had a long day.”
“Fucking Fawkes! Didn’t tell us about him, Evans damn near died twice because of him…”
Mac nodded gently and patted Talice’s arm. “Mission accomplished. He’s Fawkes’s problem now, not ours. Or yours.”
Talice closed her eyes again. “What do I do about Jance? Does Fawkes know? What’s he say?”
“He is… aware of the situation. He’s made no decision at this point. For now, it’s a non-issue.”
“Easy for him to say,” Talice grumbled. “He wasn’t the one getting shot at.”
“Talice, at some point in your life you have to learn to let go of things you have no control over.”
“Live to fight another day?” Talice chuckled. “Yeah, that can be our new motto. Which brings me to another subject.” She met Mac’s gaze. “What about you? New legs coming, the team will be paid, and we’ll all be rich, right? Do we keep doing this?”
Mac thought for a bit. “Another decision not needing to be made right now. We’ve got a lot of healing to do, of different sorts.”
“I really want to see you up and walking again, Sergeant.” Talice grinned.
“That makes two of us. Of course, this chair has served me well, and gets me discounts at The Olde Place, you know.” Mac winked.
“Maybe you can keep it and just use it when we go there.” They laughed quietly together.
Mac rolled a bit closer and kissed Talice on the cheek. “Get your beauty rest, Princess. You’re gonna need it when you stand in front of Fawkes with your report.”
“Hand me my wristcom, will you? I want to send a message or two.”
Mac rolled her eyes. “Talice, please. Don’t hassle Fawkes. He’s got other things on his mind right now. Like the battalion, losses, prisoners… all that Marine stuff we don’t do anymore.”
“I promise… no hassling. Honest.” Talice actually batted her eyes at Mac.
Mac nearly broke up with laughter. She passed the wristcom to Talice. “I’ll let you send your messages in private. See you later, girl. Get off your ass soon, right? We’ve got some drinkin’ to do later.”
They touched hands again, then Mac slid her hoverchair through th
e infirmary entrance and closed the door.
Talice called up an address on her wristcom and began typing.
Hi, Dad. Just a note to send love to you and Mom. Had a tough day, but a good day today…
FIDELIS
EPILOGUE
“Like the sun and moon, they end but to begin anew;
like the four seasons, they pass away to return once more.”
Sun Tzu, “The Art of War”
Thirty Days Later…
Fawkes sent Talice an invitation to meet him at the Running Foxxe, “for old time’s sake” as his message read. Talice accepted, sick of doctors, sick of her apartment, even sick of the goings-on at The Bloody Tavern, three nights in a row now.
She’s slid herself into her formal black pantsuit, finding it still fit. In fact, she’d shed a couple of kilos since the Eos operation. And Babs had put her on another new patch, which seemed to be working well. Her intake of S-H had gone down from two bottles a day to only one, unless she was in physical therapy or otherwise pushing herself.
She hopped the metrolink, took a seat, and thought of the ride taken from the Base with Konee and Jance in front of her. Konee. I delivered the news to her folks myself. Fucking Jance. That’s another reason I’m gonna kill her.
She pushed the thoughts away, drew a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Before she knew it, she was at her station. She stood, waited for the crowded car to empty, then slowly exited, thinking.
I haven’t seen Fawkes since our official debriefing. Spent more time healing and partying with the team. But I gotta get back to the country, as they say. Need to see Mom and Dad, and time away from this city.
She entered the restaurant. Fawkes was waiting at their usual table. It had been… a while since they’d dined together.
“You look better than the last time I saw you.” Fawkes smiled, offering his hand.
“So do you.” Talice took her seat and waited for his words.
“This is just a ‘welcome home and well done’ dinner. I know you’re still on the mend, but I wanted to have a chance to see you before you left town.”
“What makes you think I’m leaving town?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “I assumed you’d be headed to see your parents. I know you haven’t been there for a while.”
“Been busy,” Talice countered. “Of course, you know that.”
Fawkes’s face dropped a bit. “Look… let’s talk about something pleasant tonight. I’ve… missed you.”
Talice sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m headed home in a few days. I need the space.”
“And then?”
Talice shook her head. “No idea. The team has yet to talk about it. We’re all healing a bit.”
“That’s for sure.” Fawkes ordered a bottle of sparkling water and a plate of fresh veggies.
Talice shrugged slightly. “Thanks. I’m not drinking anymore. Doctor’s orders.”
“Speaking of which…” Fawkes dropped his voice. “Did you know Babs is not re-upping? She wants to go into private practice.”
Talice nodded. “We talked about it during my last visit. I’m happy for her.”
“Yes, but the Corps will lose another good officer.”
Talice waited a beat. “You’re still there. As long as people like you stay, it will be fine.”
Fawkes held her gaze for a long moment. “Thank you. But still, there are things I’d like to do, too.”
“Like what?”
“Well…” He looked away for a moment. “I’ve often wanted a family. You know, wife and kids.”
Talice grinned. “Is this a proposal, Colonel?”
* * *
Midtown, Anchor Prime…
Jance Sukano hopped off the street tram and entered a small tavern. She took a corner seat, back to the wall and watching the door, away from windows. She thumbed through the public contacts on her wristcom, ordered absently when the waiter came to her table, then sat back. Somewhere in this town were the people she sought. How to find them?
She paused, thinking, then typed in a number and inserted her earpiece. The line connected. “Hello. Yes, my name is Jance. I’m looking for an advocate. I believe the name is… Mr. Scarbach. Is he in? May I speak with him?”
Jance drummed her fingers as she waited. “Hello, Mr. Scarbach? Yes, my name is Jance, I’m a former Marine, and I’m looking for a couple of old teammates. Yes, Jance. Oh, their names, I’m sorry.” She chuckled innocently. “I’m looking for a couple of women. One’s name is Talice. The other is a doctor and goes by the name Babs. That’s right… Babs. Do you know her?”
About Sun Tzu
Sun Tzu was a Chinese general, military strategist, writer, and philosopher who lived in the Eastern Zhou period of ancient China. Sun Tzu is traditionally credited as the author of The Art of War, a widely influential work of military strategy that has affected both Western and East Asian philosophy and military thinking. Aside from his legacy as the author of The Art of War, Sun Tzu is revered in Chinese and East Asian culture as a legendary historical and military figure.
Sun Tzu's historicity is uncertain. The Han dynasty historian Sima Qian and other traditional Chinese historians placed him as a minister to King Helü of Wu and dated his lifetime to 544–496 BC. Modern scholars accepting his historicity nonetheless place the existing text of The Art of War in the later Warring States period based upon its style of composition and its descriptions of warfare. Traditional accounts state that the general's descendant Sun Bin also wrote a treatise on military tactics, also titled The Art of War. Since both Sun Wu and Sun Bin were referred to as Sun Tzu in classical Chinese texts, some historians believed them identical prior to the rediscovery of Sun Bin's treatise in 1972.
Sun Tzu's work has been praised and employed throughout East Asian warfare since its composition. During the twentieth century, The Art of War grew in popularity and saw practical use in Western society as well. It continues to influence many competitive endeavors throughout the world, including culture, politics, business, and sports, as well as modern warfare.
From Wikipedia and related references.
Author’s Note:
I’ve incorporated quotes from The Art of War that pertain, at least in part, to each chapter of this book. I did that to impart a bit of history and realism into my obviously-fictional account of the Marine Corps centuries from now, on another world. I also did it to help me focus on each chapter, as Sun Tzu taught, and always hold the mission priorities in my mind. Just like Talice did.
About the Author
Dennis Young’s writing experience began somewhere around the third grade and has continued since. Once through the grueling trials of school (grade, high, and college level, surviving all with a flourish) he found an outlet for his imagination in the world of fanzines and fan literature. Writing for friends, family, and once in a while actual publication, his appetite was only whetted.
Working in the International Construction industry, he found opportunity to direct his writing talents to presentations, articles, and project management.
In the early 2000’s he began assembling The Ardwellian Chronicles, an Epic Fantasy Saga of six novels and three compendiums totaling more than 1.3 million words.
With the Chronicles published between 2007 and 2018, he then turned to the genre of Military Science Fiction and The Mercenary Trilogy, detailing the adventures of Talice Wyloh.
His next foray was into SF adventure and The Earthfleet Saga Volumes One and Two, with further books in the works.
Never one to say no to a challenge, more genres lay in the future for his exploration.
Stay tuned…
Website – Ardwel.com
Website – dennisyoung64063.wixsite.com/author-dennis-young
Facebook – Working on the Ardwellian Chronicles and Hope I Live Long Enough to Finish
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Blog – theardwellianchronicles.blogspot.com
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Dennis Young, Mercenary