by John Bowers
“Jesus!” Nick snorted. “Are you shitting me? Politics?”
DuBose glared at him.
“It’s not just politics. If we turn the population against us, it won’t make our job any easier. If we fuck this up, word will spread across the continent, and the next town we hit may be a lot less cooperative.”
“Who gives a shit? They want the Freaks gone, don’t they? We’re here to kill Freaks. We don’t need their cooperation.”
DuBose took a step forward until he was practically in Nick’s face.
“Walker, shut the fuck up! I’m not asking your blessing or your opinion. These are Col. Dietrich’s orders! Do you have a problem with that?”
Nick glared back at him. He was out of line and knew it, but was angry and didn’t know why. He refused to back down.
“Yes, Sergeant, I do have a problem with that. If we can’t use our own heavy weapons for support, it could cost lives. Star Marine lives! You said we were the most important people on the planet right now, so what the fuck?”
Behind his back, Kopshevar and Rudy Aquino exchanged wide-eyed glances.
DuBose stared at Nick a long, thoughtful moment. He softened his voice.
“I think I know what’s eating you. You want to sit this one out?”
“No! And I’m getting pretty fucking sick of everybody trying to humor me. Yeah, my old man died, and I feel like shit about it, but it doesn’t change anything. I came here to fight, and goddammit, I’m going to fight!”
“Good. Then shut up and let me finish the briefing.”
*
Nick clenched his jaw and kept silent as DuBose concluded.
The high school, DuBose said, was believed to be a tough nut, but it got worse than that. Just one block west of the school was the town square, a quiet, grassy park surrounded by a pedestrian mall that was lined with official buildings such as the city hall, police station, fire station, and courthouse. The entire town square was believed to be fortified.
The rebels, who preferred guerrilla tactics over pitched battle, had been chased away from Camarrel, but were not inclined to give up territory they had fought and died for. They would not give up Goshen without a fight, and S2 estimated their numbers at between one and two thousand men. By contrast, 2nd Battalion only numbered around eight hundred men—who would have to assault fortified positions, in most cases, across exposed ground.
When DuBose finished the briefing, he looked directly at Nick.
“Questions?”
“Yeah. When are we getting started? It’s getting dark, and somebody said the Freaks love fighting at night.”
“That’s right, they do, but they may not be so eager after tonight. They like the dark because they can hide or slip away, but this time they’re cornered. Their night vision gear won’t work with our IR flares, and we’re going to blind them with drones like we did the other night. That’s why the colonel is waiting for dark to make the assault.”
Nick scowled, but didn’t reply. He’d already pushed DuBose about as far as he dared, and if he was being honest, he was in the wrong.
DuBose looked around.
“Anybody else?”
The other men shook their heads. DuBose nodded.
“Okay, find a piece of lawn and take a load off. The show starts at 1900.”
Nick glanced at his watch. Time had flown while he was having fun—it was already 1741, which left a little over an hour until jump-off. He unslung his rifle and looked around for a soft patch of grass, where he sat down. As Rudy and Kopshevar joined him, he pulled a cold ration out of his field pack and began to chew it. Rudy and Kopshevar did the same, chatting quietly together. From time to time they glanced at Nick, but didn’t speak to him.
At the moment, he didn’t give a shit.
Two Years Earlier
Monday, 6 February, 0434 (CC)
Carlsbad, SoCal – North America, Terra
Still wearing his graduation uniform, Pvt. Nick Walker sat with his family in a Mexican-food restaurant a few miles from Camp Pendleton. It was a joyous day in his life, his graduation from boot camp. As of two hours ago, he was no longer a boot, no longer a maggot, but a real, live Star Marine. In a couple of days he would head off to Luna for Advanced Infantry training.
But today was for celebration.
Flushed and happy, Nick ordered a beer with his enchiladas. Today was arguably the happiest day of his life—not only had he graduated the grueling ordeal of boot camp, but moments after the graduation ceremony ended, Victoria Cross, the only girl he had ever loved, had told him she loved him, too. Talk about a double helping!
It was great to see his family again, if only for a few hours. He hadn’t been sure they would attend, since his dad had opposed his enlistment in the Star Marines, but when he invited them to come, they had been quick to accept. Now the old animosities seemed distant as they chatted gaily and laughed at Nick’s stories. Sixteen year-old Gloria seemed entranced by his colorful uniform; his mother, Mercedes, beamed with pride—and his dad, putting aside his reservations, also looked proud.
The meal came and they ate with gusto, laughing and talking for close to an hour. The single beer warmed him, the light infusion of alcohol swimming in his bloodstream. Everything was perfect…
…until Gloria posed a question.
“Who was that girl?” she asked. “The one you were kissing?” Her smile was slightly teasing, but also excited.
Nick laughed, his face turning pink.
“That was Private Cross. Her first name is Victoria.”
“I didn’t know the Star Marines admitted women,” the Rev. Joseph Walker said.
“She isn’t a combat Marine,” Nick told him. “She’s going to be a military lawyer. The Star Marines are sending her to law school, but she had to graduate boot camp first.”
“She is very pretty,” his mother said.
“Yeah.” Nick laughed. “Yeah, she is.”
“I think someone is in love,” Gloria teased.
Nick turned even redder. “How can you tell?”
“Does she love you, too?” his dad asked.
“Yes. She told me after the ceremony. That’s why we were kissing.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Mercedes smiled.
“How does that work?” his dad asked. “If she’s going to law school, and you’re going to Luna…”
“We won’t be able to see each other for a while,” Nick admitted. “But we’re gonna hook up when I get back. As long as I’m on Terra, we’ll be able to get together once in a while.”
“That doesn’t sound like you have much of a future together, at least not for a long while.”
“We won’t be in the Star Marines forever. My enlistment is for four years, hers is for eight.”
“Eight! Why so long?”
“She needs three or four years for law school, then she’s committed to working for the JAG for whatever time is left over.”
“JAG?”
“Judge Advocate General. They handle legal cases in the service.”
His dad nodded and sipped his coffee. Nick’s beer glass was empty; he signaled a waitress for some coffee.
“What happens when you both get out?” Joseph Walker asked. “Marriage?”
Nick shrugged. “We haven’t talked about that, but it’s one possibility. And we don’t have to wait until our enlistments run out. If we decide to get married, we can do it at any time.”
“Are the two of you compatible?”
“Yeah, I think so. There are a lot of things we haven’t talked about yet, but I think so.”
“Why haven’t you talked about them?”
“Dad, we’ve only known each other a few weeks, and it isn’t like we’ve been dating. We’ve both been busting our ass trying to make it through boot camp.”
“I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but if that’s the case, how can you be so sure you love each other?”
Nick stared at him for a few seconds, feeling his happy glow beg
in to fade.
“I know how I feel, Dad. We both do.”
“I don’t mean to imply otherwise, but you have to admit that it’s an unusual situation. What about her religion? Is she a believer?”
“I don’t know. That’s one of the things we haven’t talked about.”
“Don’t you think it’s important?”
Nick sighed. “Yeah, I do. But look at you and Mom—you’re both believers, but you belong to different faiths. Religious differences aren’t insurmountable.”
Walker nodded to concede the point.
“Why didn’t you introduce us? I would have loved to meet her.”
“There wasn’t time. Her family is here, too, and she wanted to spend time with them. I’m sure you’ll get to meet her, just not today.”
“Well, for your sake, I hope it works out. For both of your sakes.”
Nick’s coffee came and he took a sip. His happy glow was almost gone, dampened by the familiar old conflict that was poking its ugly head up again.
“It will, Dad. I’m confident of it.”
Wednesday, 16 May, 0435 (CC)
Goshen, Alpha Centauri 2
Thirty minutes after Alpha Prime set, the town was completely dark. Even though the light from Centauri B, which rarely sank far below the horizon, glinted off a high-flying airliner, its normal post-sunset glow was occulted by the Alphalaya range west of town. Nick could barely see his hand in front of his face.
Orders crackled over the command channel and the units assigned to the assault moved into position. Third Platoon of Echo Company moved up a block so they could see the action, but remained in reserve. The first hint Nick had that it was starting came when six gunsleds—HVAs—skimmed in from the northeast just above treetop level. Nearly silent and moving fast, they hit the high school like a swarm of bees. Two sleds fired heavy lasers, aiming at the upper windows; the remaining four released high-explosive (H.E.) rockets that slammed into the steel beams barricading the bottom floor. The transition from a quiet evening to all-out war was stunning—exploding rockets shattered windows along the adjacent streets and the assault on his ears was actually painful.
The rebels returned fire. Four gun positions on the roof swiveled as they tried to track the sleds, but even with radar-assisted targeting, the sleds moved too fast and changed course too quickly for the defensive guns to follow. Nick saw streaks of tracer and bolts of laser dancing through the air above him, beautiful colored lights that reminded him of Federation Day celebrations at home.
The sleds banked and weaved, diving repeatedly from several directions at once, miraculously avoiding one another as they poured laser and H.E. into the building. Within ninety seconds the enemy fire on the roof was silenced. Nick saw flames leaping from the rooftop, and idly wondered if this was how Col. Dietrich hoped to avoid destroying the town. But he wasn’t complaining—anything that took out rebel positions was okay with him. Every rebel the sleds killed was one rebel that wouldn’t kill Star Marines.
The sleds firing rockets withdrew when their ammo was expended. The other two, firing heavy lasers, continued to circle the building, now pouring bolts of coherent light into the second floor. Guns still fired from some of the windows, but more flames appeared, and soon the upper-floor guns fell silent. Only then did the remaining sleds pull back, though they continued to circle the block in a support role.
It was then that Nick heard heavy machine guns from the south—Hotel Company was laying down fire to distract the rebels. Thick smoke swirled about the upper floor, but automated fire suppression equipment activated inside the school. High-pressure water and CO2 blasted the fire out of existence, saving the building from total destruction…but the roof still blazed.
Echo Company began its assault. First and 2nd Platoons—roughly eighty men—crossed the street and advanced in rapid over-watch formation, leapfrog fashion. Thanks to the IR flares carried in bird drones a thousand feet overhead, the rebels’ night vision equipment was blinded. For one or two critical minutes, they didn’t see the Star Marines racing across the wide parking lot, and by the time they did, the two platoons were practically on top of them.
Nick felt his pulse speed up as he watched the men assault the building. Several squads concentrated on the steel-barricaded windows, tossing grenades through holes blasted by the rockets. Others reached the three doors and, using thermite grenades, burned through the steel to gain access. Now he saw grenade-spawned fires on the bottom floor, but that didn’t stop the Star Marines from surging inside. Heavy gunfire, muffled by the thick walls, hammered a steady rhythm. Nick heard shouts and screams, the steady chatter of .29 cal rifles, and other distinctive shots from whatever variety of weapons the Freaks were using, including what sounded like shotguns.
More grenades flashed, more shouts, more screams. Flames grew brighter behind the barred windows. The men of 3rd Platoon stared, transfixed, as their buddies fought and died inside the school, hopefully killing more than they lost. It lasted five or six minutes, but seemed much longer. Half a dozen rebels escaped from the west end of the building and made a break for the town square a block away, but the gunsleds swooped down and slaughtered them before they reached the street. Nick saw two more rebels leap from windows on the upper floor; one was smoldering, apparently burned before the fire suppression could take effect. Both men hit the pavement hard, but only one was able to get up and stagger away. Someone from 2nd Squad killed him with a well-aimed rifle shot. The other, perhaps with a broken leg, tried to crawl away, but gave it up when his friend was killed. He rolled onto his back and raised both arms in a pitiful attempt to surrender.
“Hold your fire!” Sgt. DuBose shouted. “Don’t kill him. S2 will want to interrogate him.”
The flames on the bottom floor were spreading, and Nick wondered how much longer the Star Marines inside could last. Then the bottom floor fire suppression kicked in and the flames died within a few seconds. The shooting lasted another two minutes.
Suddenly it was quiet. Even though the roof still blazed, most of the smoke from the building had turned white from fire suppression. Men began filtering outside, most of them coughing from the smoke and fire suppression gas. Due to distance and darkness, they were difficult to recognize, but most of them looked healthy. As Nick watched, at least twenty men emerged, and only a couple were wounded. He wondered how many had been killed and were still inside…surely not all of those still inside were dead?
DuBose tilted his head, listening to the command channel, then spoke to his squad.
“First Platoon reports only one killed and four wounded. Second Platoon lost three killed.” He sighed. “It could have been a lot worse. If we had tried this in daylight…”
More men spilled out, several of them helping injured men, whom they laid out on the parking lot several yards from the building. Nick, watching, felt a sense of relief. DuBose was right—it could have been worse. A lot worse. He saw eight wounded so far. He hoped they weren’t too badly hurt. Cpl. Starling, the corpsman, was bending over one of them.
A whisper in the sky above him caused him to look up. An evac sled—an HVM (Hover Vehicle, Medical)—arrowed directly toward the school. It set down several yards from the building and two men, the pilot and another corpsman, jumped out. Using a hover stretcher, they lifted one wounded man at a time and guided him to the sled, where they placed him on a life-support rack and strapped him down. In addition to the two-man crew, the sled could carry six wounded.
Nick’s helmet comm crackled. It was Lt. Jaeger.
“Third Platoon, we’re heading for the town square. Move out.”
Nick, resting on one knee, pushed himself to his feet. The high school seemed to be secure, but the town square waited. It was probably going to be a tougher nut to crack, but the time had come to crack it.
Okay, Walker, if you’re going to die before this is over, tonight is as good as any. Let’s see how much shit you can stir before that happens.
Chapter 12
> The Goshen town square was one of the nicest Nick had ever seen, or would have been if it had been daylight. The square was self-contained, a sort of pedestrian mall surrounded by streets on four sides. In the center sat a grassy park about three hundred yards long; a bandstand stood in the center of the park and at each corner was a large, decorative fountain, four in all. The rest of the area was dotted with park benches and playgrounds for children, all shaded by the Centauri version of oak trees.
Separated by pedestrian walkways, government buildings faced the park on three sides. On the north side was a police station, library, and a city office building. On the south sat the city hall, a fire station, and a building that housed retail shops. Another commercial building bordered the square on the east, and on the west a massive courthouse dominated the square. Residential neighborhoods flanked the square both north and south, with the high school on the east.
Keeping their heads down, 3rd Platoon angled across the high school parking lot toward the east end of the square. Elements of Hotel Company approached from the southeast. Two gunsleds circled overhead, watching for enemy troops, but unable to detect body-heat signatures because of the IR flare carried by the bird drone a thousand feet overhead.
The Star Marines crossed the street and approached the strip of shops that opened onto both the street and the square. All the glass had been blown out of the shops on the east end by the H.E. rockets from the gunsleds, but as they approached, they encountered no resistance. Drifting smoke from the high school was thick inside the shops. Nick led his four men into what looked like a clothing store; DuBose and Wiebe entered the adjacent toy store and set up the SAW facing the park.
“Hold position,” Jaeger said over the helmet comms. “Heavy Weapons are moving up. Wait until the machine guns are in position.”