“You can go to Hell, you bastard,” shouted the Guerilla, maintaining eye contact with the big male.
“I am sure you will get there first,” said the leader, nodding to one of his men, who raised a rifle and pointed it at Walborski. “Now tell me how to find the others we have been chasing, and I will promise you a quick death. Otherwise, it will be long and painful.”
“You killed my wife, you bastards,” growled Walborski, his eyes never leaving those of the leader. “Do you really think I care what happens to me?”
“Then pain it is,” said the leader, making a gesture toward the man with the rifle.
Before the male could pull the trigger other weapons fired, from outside the circle, and five of the Ca’cadasans went down, including the one who had been about to shoot Cornelius. The volume of fire increased, and more of the big males came backing out of the jungle, shooting and being shot. The leader reached down and pulled Cornelius to his feet, dragging him away from the clearing and drawing a big blade from a sheath on his belt.
“You caused this,” he yelled, brandishing the knife. “And so you die.”
Before the arm with the blade could come forward something big loomed out of the woods, bigger that the large Cacada male. The warrior must have felt the presence, because he turned before it fully reached him, flinging Cornelius away and bringing the blade up to a guard position. It was not enough, as a ton of engineered Kodiak Bear swung a massive claw in the hit the helmeted head of the Cacada male. The male went down like a felled tree, and the bear came down on all fours, the front legs planted on the Cacada.
Shots rang out and Ca’cadasans screamed, and in moments it was over. There were a couple of dead humans, and one bear that was so severely wounded it had to be put down.
“Hell of a job you did here, son,” said a familiar looking man in cammies, a particle beam rifle over his shoulder. “Looked like you were going to take the whole platoon by yourself.”
“I might have,” agreed Walborski, looking around at the carnage. “If I hadn’t gotten so overconfident.” He looked closely at the man again, recognition coming to him. “You’re the preacher at that church we went to. The one who was an Army Ranger.”
“Guilty,” said the man with a smile. “But now God wants me to come out of retirement. Did you get your wife out?”
Cornelius looked down at the ground, feeling the sorrow burst through the anger. “I got her out of the settled areas. And she gave birth to my son, just before these bastards killed her.”
“And the baby?”
“The baby’s safe,” said the Guerilla, wiping his eyes. “He doesn’t have a momma to look after him, but he’s safe. Hell of a place and time to be born though.”
“He didn’t have a choice, son,” said the Ranger turned preacher, putting a hand on Walborski’s shoulder.
“We ready to move, Preacher?” called out another man, one with the look of a Freeholder, walking up to the pair.
“I need to see to my wife,” said Cornelius, his voice cracking again. “I can’t just leave her out here.”
“I’ll go with you,” said the Preacher, looking over at the Freehold leader. “We’ll catch up.”
“Don’t take too long,” said the other man. “The Cacas are likely to have more soldiers here any minute.”
“Then I’ll have a chance to kill those soldiers,” said Cornelius, a cold smile creeping across his face.
“Tone it down a bit, son,” said the Preacher, following Walborski through the jungle. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to kill the bastards. In fact, I highly recommend it. But don’t get yourself killed for nothing.”
“I don’t really care too much, Preacher. I don’t have anything else to lose.”
“Then don’t take the rest of us with you, son,” said the Preacher, his own eyes constantly scanning the jungle.
They got to the small clearing where Katlyn’s body had been left and it wasn’t there. There were articles of Ca’cadasan armor scattered around, and a rifle, so he knew he was in the right place. But the bodies were gone.
“What the Hell happened to them?” he shouted, then turned as the Preacher put a hand on his shoulder.
“The jungle took her, son. She’s now part of this planet.”
“And so will I be, someday,” said Cornelius, turning sorrowful eyes on the other man. “So will I.”
* * *
MARCH 28TH, 1000.
“So, Captain Marquette, what can I do for you?”
“It’s more what I can do for you, Colonel Baggett,” said the battle armored Marine, standing at attention in the small cavern the soldier was using as an office.
“And what can the Imperial Marines do for us poor dumb soldiers?” said the Colonel, looking down his nose at the Marine.
“I have a hundred and thirty-three battle armored Marines I can add to the Colonel’s order of battle,” said the officer, ignoring the sarcasm. “And another ninety-three support personnel, who are, of course, also trained as combat soldiers.”
“And your Colonel wants me to welcome these people with open arms after she turned me and mine away?” shouted the Colonel, losing his temper. And if you hadn’t have done that I would have another hundred live troops with me now, not to mention the over three hundred civilians that were killed before we stopped the Cacas.
“The Colonel is dead, sir,” said the grim faced officer. “I am now the ranking officer in the battalion, though I think the term company is more fitting now.”
“Sorry to hear that she died,” said Baggett, bowing his head for a moment. And I mean that. She may have been a bitch, but she was human. “How did it happen?”
“When you were backing off the mountain I guess you saw the rockets coming in from the Caca airdcraft,” said the Captain, and Baggett nodded his head. “She got killed in that attack, right at the beginning, before the Cacas overran the sanctuary.”
Baggett nodded his head, glad for the moment that he hadn’t gotten his people, especially the civilians, into what had turned out to be a death trap. “How many of your own civilians did you lose?”
“Not that many,” said the Captain, a smile on his face. “We were able to get most of them out through the cavern system. The Marines fought their way out and around the mountain, or we wouldn’t have any suits left. They wouldn’t have fit through some of those places. We had a lot of wounded, and some hurt civilians. But the Doc pulled them through.”
“Doctor?” said Baggett, sitting up in his seat. “As in a medic, or..”
“A real medical school trained doctor,” said the Captain. “She was engaged to one of my fellow company commanders. He died trying to stop the Cacas from attacking the sanctuary.”
“And who was this captain?”
“Glen McKinnon,” said the Marine officer. Baggett flinched a bit. “Did the Colonel know Captain McKinnon?”
“He was assigned to my command as my reaction company,” said the Colonel, closing his eyes and seeing the man’s face, just one of many that were no longer with them. “He was a good officer.”
“That he was,” agreed the Marquette, his own face pinched with emotion. “That he was. And his fiancé’ took it hard, like they’re supposed to, I guess.”
“I am very sorry to hear that,” said the Colonel, nodding. “I feel sorry for the lady. But we could do with the services of a doctor.” The Colonel pulled a cigarette from a pack and offered one to the Captain, who accepted with thanks. The men puffed the cigarettes to life, and the Colonel blew out a few puffs of smoke.
“OK,” said the Colonel, pointing his cigarette at the Captain. “You can bring your people in. I’m not about to sustain a pissing contest when we have a mutual enemy to fight. But be aware that we might not really be that much better off than you are.”
“But you have more combat power,” said the Captain, a look of relief on his face. “And we can add to it.”
“Then go ahead and start sending them into my perimeter,” said t
he Colonel, stubbing his half smoked cigarette into an ashtray, and wondering why he had started the habit he thought so disgusting, though not dangerous. “I guess I don’t need to tell you to maintain light and noise discipline. While I’m sure the Cacas know where we are, generally, it’s no use just giving them intelligence. I’m still surprised they’re not hitting us with kinetic weapons.”
“They may have other things on their minds,” said the Captain. Baggett raised an eyebrow and looked the Captain in the face, an unasked question. “Haven’t you heard? There are Imperial ships in the system.”
“What?” said Baggett, coming to his feet. “Why didn’t you say so before?”
“I thought you knew,” said the Captain. “We picked up their signals as soon as they translated in. Or should I say, about three hours afterwards.”
“How many?” asked Baggett, a rush of excitement washing away the fatigue. “What are they going to do?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Colonel,” said the Marine, shrugging his big alloyed shoulders. “All we got is some signals, coded, that we identified as Imperial. And a guess that the enemy ships are occupied with them. Beyond that?” The officer shrugged his shoulders again.
This could be our relief, thought the Colonel, trying to calm himself before he grabbed too much of the hope stick and went swinging over an abyss. But if it is?
“Get your people in, Captain. Then meet with me and my officers at twelve hundred, and we’ll come up with a plan of attack.”
“Plan of attack?” said the Marine officer, eyes wide, an expression of dealing with a madman on his face.
“Hell yes,” said the Colonel, slapping the top of his desk with a hard palm. “This is our chance to hurt them, and maybe get ourselves into a better position. Now get to it.”
The Marine Captain saluted and stamped out of the small office on heavy booted feet, leaving the Colonel alone to think of what he could do to hurt this enemy. Because when all was said and done, that was still his job on this planet, and this did not seem the right time to play it safe.
* * *
Jennifer felt numb as she walked the path that had been cleared by the Marines. The emotional numbness of Glen’s death was still clamping down on her system. And the physical numbness of too much work was also taking its toll. When is this going to end? she thought. She had never imagined anything like this when she was attending medical school, or practicing on a core world. Hell, on a core world a disaster that would make all the Imperial News Services would just be a blip on the health care establishment. There were so many hospitals and doctors there that any victim would only have to wait an hour, at most, for complete healing services.
As far as she knew she was the only physician left on this planet. There were still medics and nurses, who, though skilled and knowledgeable, did not have the same skills as a trained surgeon. The buck stopped with her as far as medical decisions were concerned, and at a time when all she wanted to do was cower in a corner and cry over what she had lost.
Stop it, she told herself as she stepped through the perimeter that had been set up around the refugee camp. They need you to be a doctor, not a little girl crying over a lost kitten.
“Doctor Conway?” said a large man in medium battle armor, standing just inside the perimeter. There were fighting positions dug into the ground on either side, well camouflaged from all angles, with thermal coverings overhead. Men with the same sort of battle armor occupied those positions, their attention to the front showing that this man had authority over them, and they were going to look good in front of him.
“Yes,” she finally said after a wait that had the man staring at her.
“We’re glad to have you here,” said the man, looking like he wanted to say something else and stopping himself.
“You have work for me I hear,” she said in a flat voice, not really caring it there was or not, but wanting to get to it if so. It was the only thing keeping her going.
“Yes. Yes we do. And I’m Colonel Baggett, by the way. I worked with Glen.”
“I guess you won’t be doing that anymore, will you, Colonel?” she said, feeling some of the anger rising past the numbness.
“Er, no ma’am. I’m sorry to say that I won’t. And I am sorry for your loss.”
Oh, go to Hell, thought Jennifer, staring at the man. You only care about me because of the things my hands can do for your people.
“I have people who need your help Doctor,” said the man, averting his eyes, then looking down at the holstered pistol on her side. “That’s a very big gun for a small woman.”
“Glen gave it to me,” she said, patting the butt of the pistol. “It’s saved my life a time or two.”
“You really won’t need it here,” said the Colonel, holding out a hand as if he wanted her to hand it over. “It’s kind of dangerous in the hands of someone who isn’t a soldier, and you’re well protected here.”
“The gun stays with me,” she said in an angry voice, almost a shout. “Glen gave it to me, and told me to never let it leave my side while I’m out in the bush. And I intend to follow that order. If you want me to give up this gun I’ll walk right out of here.”
“Calm down, Doctor. I’m not going to try and take your gun.” The Colonel looked back into the camp, where every civilian in sight had some kind of weapon, and a thermal cloak over their heads and bodies so they wouldn’t give away their positions by showing a bunch of hot figures in one area. He looked back. “We actually want our civilians armed at this time, as they’re a good portion of my available firepower. It’s just that a gun like that can cause a lot of damage if it’s not used properly.”
Meaning it can kill your armored soldiers, and you don’t like the idea of a civilian being able to do that. “I know how to use it properly,” said Jennifer, allowing a smile to cross her face for the briefest of moments.
The Colonel gestured with his hand and another armored trooper, this one with the insignia of a staff sergeant on his helmet, came running over. “The Sergeant here will show you to your quarters, then to the other facilities.”
“I would just as soon get to work,” said Jennifer, not really caring about the amenities of the camp.
“Very well. Sergeant, show the Doctor to the field hospital and get her set up.” The Colonel bounded off, seeming in a hurry, and Jennifer didn’t blame him. She had not been good company since Glen had died. Competent yes. But not pleasant.
She had to admit that the camp was well laid out. There were a number of caverns in the area, and they had been put to use. Only the overflow of refugees and the soldiers were out in the open, and tents and prefabs had been erected for their use. Thermal screens were in use everywhere, so that a large concentration of hot bodies would not be seen from the air or from space. And everyone appeared to be getting fed, though she didn’t know where those supplies were coming from.
The hospital had been set up in a cavern, with an operating theater and recovery rooms laid out with professional precision by the medics and nurses. She looked in on one of the wards to see men and women sleeping peacefully, many with horrendous wounds or burns. She was sure all had been tended to by nanites, and anyone who was going to die probably already had. There were still things that only a surgeon could do, and she was it as far as this encampment was concerned.
Minutes later she was at the table, within the sterile field, working on another wreck of a human being and cursing the Ca’cadasans back to the Hell from which they came.
* * *
MASSADARA SYSTEM, BEYOND THE HYPER LIMIT.
Jana forced herself to look down at the floor as she was led to the Admiral’s officer by a new officer she had not interacted with, making her wonder what had happened to the other one. Hopefully he broke his damned neck, she thought, suppressing the smile on her face.
She also noted all the injured Cacada in the corridor, many with casts on multiple arms, and a few in powered chairs. She didn’t know the state of Cacada medi
cine, but figured it was at least as good as the Empire’s, and most of these males would be hale and whole within the next couple of days.
The Admiral was waiting for her as usual, stretched out in his chair, a drink in his hand, a plate of unknown food on a side table. He was looking out the portal, which showed marks where new transparent alloy had been patched to the old, indicating that this room had taken serious damage as well.
Too bad the old son of a bitch wasn’t here when this happened, thought the Chief, keeping her eyes to the floor. It would have done the Universe good if he had been sucked out into space.
“Tell me what you know about your stealth ships, slave,” boomed the voice of the big male, continuing to look out the portal.
“Is that what happened here?” asked Jana, adding a “my Lord” when the Admiral turned toward her with a fierce expression on his face.
“I ask the questions, slave,” growled the Cacada. “Remember that.”
“Yes, my Lord,” said Jana, looking back at the floor.
“So what do you know about these stealth ships?”
“Only that they are very stealthy, my Lord,” said Jana, trying to think of a way to withhold this information that she was sure the New Terran Empire wouldn’t want them to know.
“I know that, slave,” said the Admiral, coming out of his seat and towering over her. He turned away and walked to the portal, lower hands clenched behind his back while he gestured with his upper. “How else could they have snuck through my pickets, and destroyed two of my antimatter tankers, as well as the ships that were refueling from them. How else could they put a torpedo into this station, then sneak away.” The Admiral turned and pointed a large digit at Jana’s face. “And they are still hiding out there, somewhere in the system. Despite our best efforts to find them.”
Jana was silent, afraid of the punishment that would come if she didn’t speak, also afraid that she might give away vital information.
She felt her muscles lock and knew what was coming next, so the pain was not a surprise. It was still more than she could take, and after a minute of total agony she was ready to give up her mother, if that was what it took to make it stop.
Exodus: Empires at War: Book 3: The Rising Storm Page 36