Revolt on Alpha 2 (Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal Book 8)

by John Bowers

  “Yeah.”

  “What is it? What’s your secret?”

  “My secret?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t have a secret.”

  “Oh, come on! Everybody has some secrets. What’s yours?”

  “I was born a woman.”

  Carlson and several other men guffawed.

  “Hell, that ain’t no secret! We already knew that.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  Carlson turned to Kopshevar.

  “Kopycat, you and Walker trained together, didn’t you? I bet you’ve got some stories about him.”

  Kopshevar, his mouth full, nodded. He chewed a moment, swallowed, and laughed.

  “We had this one guy who joined our training platoon—this was after we got back from Advanced Infantry. He came in from another platoon, and he was dumber than dogshit. You could tell him anything and he would believe it. Nick was our platoon leader then, a Lance, and he fucked with this kid from day one. One time he sent him out to water the flagpole.”

  Laughter exploded on both sides of the road. Kopshevar, laughing with them, wiped his eyes.

  “I swear to God, this dumbass actually went out there and did it. An officer caught him out after dark and asked what the fuck he was doing. The kid told him, and the officer sent him back to barracks. That damn flagpole was loose for a week after that. I think a good hard shove would have sent it over.”

  The laughter gradually died.

  “That’s a good one. Anything else?”

  Rudy Aquino spoke up.

  “When I first joined the unit, Nick told me to go find some feathers to build a machine gun nest.”

  More laughter, harder than before.

  “You’ve got to be shittin’ me!”

  Rudy shook his head.

  “No, I swear it’s true!”

  “And you believed him?”

  “Hell, I was new, I didn’t know any better. And he had the stripes, so I thought I had to obey the order.”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  Nick listened but didn’t respond. He tried to fight back a grin, but failed.

  “I’ve heard stories like that before,” said CC Clark. “My dad was in the Fed Infantry before I was born. He told me they sent one particular recruit out to find some lumber stretchers. The dumb kid ran all over the post looking for them; everywhere he went, they told him they were fresh out, but such-and-such unit had one. He would run over there and they’d give him the same story. He spent half a day and never did find any.”

  More laughter, followed by jokes and more stories. Nick finished his lunch and took a long, deep slug of water from his canteen.

  With five minutes left on their break, he walked a few yards away from the road and unzipped his pants to take a leak. Finished, he zipped up and walked back toward the road, then stopped and pulled Ruth Jonas’s letter out of his pocket. He wasn’t looking forward to reading it, but his curiosity was rising and he wanted to know what she had written. He turned his back on the road and gingerly peeled open the envelope.

  It had been written with purple ink, in a flowery script that was difficult to decipher. It was short and sweet, less than half a page, and his eyes narrowed as he peered at it. He wasn’t surprised to note that it was riddled with illiteracy.

  Deer Nick Walker,

  I am shure that by now you no that your deer Father has past a way. Rev. Joe was the kindist man I ever met a troo christian a Holy Man. I will miss him for the wrest of my dayz.

  I am also shure that some of our Bruthers and Sisters have tryed to consoul you with the insurance that you will see him a gain in Hevven. I gess they meen well but nun of them are brav enuf to tell you the trooth. I am brav enuf.

  The trooth is that you broak your Father’s hart. He loved you more than his own life and you broak his hart. You disgraced him. While he was doing the Lords work you were off across the Galaxie killing your fellow man. The dis Grace of what you are doing is what killed him. Jesus may forgive you for that but I never will. I hoap you are satisfied.

  If you come home a live do not bother to look me up I never want to see you again. If you are killed out their that is to bad but I will not shed a tear. The bible has said that we reep what we sew and you have made yur own bed.

  That is all I have to say.

  Ruth Jonas

  His jaw clenched as he folded the letter and put it back into its envelope; his hands were shaking the same way they did after a battle. Every vile adjective he could think of to describe Ruth Jonas passed through his mind, but he forced them out of his head. Clearly she had written the letter to upset him, and had succeeded beyond her wildest dreams. He stood breathing deeply, wanting more than anything to whip out a pen and paper and reply in kind.

  But he didn’t.

  Not that he was too good for that, or held any moral high ground, but because her secondary goal had also been accomplished. She not only wanted to upset him, but also to guilt him. Her assertion that his actions were responsible for his father’s death had hit home, and hit home hard. The question had already crossed his mind more than once, and his biggest fear was that…

  She might be right.

  Chapter 20

  Moving at a slow but steady pace, they covered almost twenty more miles before Centauri B sat in the west. Echo was the lead company but they weren’t alone—the rest of 2nd Battalion was strung out for over a mile down the dirt road behind them.

  First Battalion was following a parallel road thirty miles to the south, clearing each town and village they encountered. Third Battalion, split up into companies, was working the extreme southern end of the plain, snuffing out pockets of resistance along the foot of the Alphalayas. Most of the available HVIs were tied up moving them from one hotspot to another.

  Nick walked with his head down, his rifle slung, his fatigue shirt drenched in sweat. His feet hurt, his body ached. Ah, the glorious life of a Star Marine!

  “What’s the next town?” Kopshevar asked no one in particular.

  “Three Rivers,” DuBose replied.

  “How far is it?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  “Are we there yet?” Carlson asked.

  Avila giggled.

  Nick lifted his chin and gazed at the horizon. Alpha Prime was getting low, would probably set in another half hour. He wasn’t thrilled about being on the road after dark, but it wasn’t his call. He kept walking.

  He tried to think about something besides Ruth Jonas.

  He found it impossible.

  Suddenly, his head jerked up. Except for an intermittent breeze that had kicked up within the last hour, he hadn’t heard any definable sounds, but there was no mistaking the rising whine he was picking up now.

  “INCOMIIIIIING!!” he yelled, and dived into the ditch beside the road.

  The nearly two hundred men of Echo scattered, diving into the rough ground on both sides of the road. Within three seconds they were all belly-down in the dry weeds. The first 80mm shell erupted fifty yards behind them, in the middle of Foxtrot Company. Six more landed within five seconds, most of them on the road, and the quiet afternoon was suddenly shattered by booming explosions and cries of pain.

  Nick couldn’t tell who had been hit, or how many. He elbowed himself along the ground to get farther away from the road, then buried his face again as another salvo, then another, shrieked in from the northwest. The air filled with smoke, dirt, flying steel, and body parts. Someone was screaming in agony, men were shouting.

  “Corpsman! CORPSMAAAAN!!”

  Cpl. Starling and two other corpsmen leaped up, ignoring the danger, and ran toward the screams. Nick lay where he was, breathing hard, his heart pounding. Poor Starling, he thought. If anybody ever deserved to be called a hero, it was those poor bastards, the corpsmen.

  Just as suddenly as it started, it was over.

  His helmet comm burst into life.

  “Anybody hit?” DuBose demanded. “So
und off!”

  Every man in the squad replied with “Okay”. DuBose switched channels and talked to Lt. Jaeger, then came back to his squad.

  “First Squad, stay down for a minute until we’re sure it’s over. Battalion has ordered the gunsleds to find those 80s, so take a break.”

  “How far out are the sleds?” Nick asked.

  “I dunno, but they’re not far. We should know something pretty soon.”

  “Where do they hang out?” Rudy Aquino asked.

  “Where does who hang out?”

  “The gunsleds. They’re always nearby when we need them, but we never see them until we do.”

  “Why would you ask a question like that?” Kopshevar demanded. “What makes you even think of shit like that?”

  “I dunno, it just occurred to me. I mean, don’t the sleds need some place to refuel and rearm?”

  “Yes they do,” DuBose said. “I think they’re probably based in Cutler Crossing as of this morning. They have to move up every day or so to keep up with us.”

  The chatter continued for several minutes, but Nick didn’t take part. He could still hear a Star Marine, probably from Foxtrot, crying in pain. Four or five minutes after the barrage ended, he heard the heavy fans of an HVM approaching—it set down in Foxtrot’s area and the wounded were loaded aboard. He heard it wind up again and head back east, toward wherever the field hospital was currently located.

  He heaved a deep breath, then stood up.

  “Walker! What the hell are you doing?”

  “Just checking to see if the Freaks are getting ready to ambush us. That barrage was pretty short, and a short barrage usually means the Freaks are close.”

  “Oh, that’s just the smartest thing you’ve ever done! Get the fuck down!”

  Nick complied, dropping back to a crouch.

  “It’s okay, Sergeant. They didn’t open fire, so they probably aren’t out there.”

  “You got a death wish or something?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  Nick didn’t answer. He took a slug of water from his canteen, then peered across the plain toward what looked like a distant tree line on the northwest horizon.

  “Is that Three Rivers over there?”

  DuBose, against his better judgment, rose to a crouch and joined him. He had binoculars and took a good long look.

  “Looks like it. That’s probably where the arty came from.”

  As if to confirm their suspicions, they saw four gunsleds sailing at high speed across the plain ahead of them, angling northwest toward the tree line.

  “We’ll know in a minute,” DuBose said.

  It was actually six or seven minutes. Lt. Jaeger notified DuBose that it was deemed safe to resume their march, and when everyone was back on the road, the column moved out again with Echo in the lead.

  “If we’re going to attack Three Rivers,” Cpl. Wiebe said, “how do we get there? Is there a road up here somewhere?”

  “Probably safer to cut across,” CC Clark suggested.

  “Fuck that!” Avila said. “The open ground is probably mined.”

  Nick nodded to himself. Avila was right. He was surprised at Avila for thinking that clearly. Since getting busted back to private, Avila had quieted down some and was no longer quite as obnoxious as he had been…but Nick still didn’t like him.

  Kopshevar checked his watch, then glanced at the western sky where Alpha Prime was about to disappear below the plain.

  “Aw, man, are we going to attack at night again? I really hate attacking at night.”

  “You just hate to attack,” Avila told him.

  “And I suppose you love it.”

  “Sure.” Avila giggled. “Night fighting is the best!”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “And you’re a pussy.”

  “Shut up, Avila. Just shut the fuck up!”

  “Don’t encourage him,” Nick said. “He’s been docile for a couple of days, so don’t give him an excuse.”

  “Docile my ass.”

  “Fuck you, Kopycat!”

  “All of you shut up!” DuBose snapped. “I swear, you’re worse than a bunch of school girls!”

  They continued walking for another forty minutes. After a couple of miles, the road swerved twenty degrees to the right. Both suns were down now, but enough twilight remained that they could see a river just ahead, running north and south. Nick felt a tightening in his gut.

  “Looks like a perfect place for an ambush,” he said.

  “Couple of gunsleds already checked it,” DuBose said. “Looks like it’s safe.”

  “What about the town? What did the gunsleds find?”

  “Don’t know. Nobody told me yet.”

  “Which river is that?” Kopshevar asked. “Is that one of the Three Rivers?”

  “Might be One River,” said Carlson.

  “I think it’s Two River,” said Avila.

  “How do you know it’s not Three River?” Nick asked.

  “According to my data map,” DuBose informed them, “that is East Fork of the Monogham River.”

  “What’s a mono-gham?” Kopshevar asked.

  “The opposite of a stereo-gham,” Rod Meredith said.

  “There’s another one about three miles down the road,” DuBose told them. “It’s called the West Fork, same river. They flow north from the Alphalayas, and just north of here, right in the middle of town, they meet up with the North Trimmer, which flows south from Monroe Falls. They all feed into the South Trimmer, which flows east to the Syracuse. And there you have your three rivers.”

  “That’s four rivers,” Avila said. “How come they didn’t call it Four Rivers?”

  “I dunno, Avila. I’ll be sure to ask them. Maybe they’ll let you rename it.”

  “Good!” Avila giggled. “Then I’ll name it after myself. Avila-ville.”

  “Figures,” Nick muttered.

  A command sled zipped up the road from behind them. Lt. Col. Dietrich was on board. He consulted with Capt. Seals, then headed back down the road. Seals called his platoon leaders by helmet comm and gave them instructions. When he was done, DuBose advised his squad.

  “Okay, this is our destination for today. Fall out.”

  “What about Three Rivers?” Avila asked.

  “We’re not attacking tonight. Instead, we’re gonna hit it first thing in the morning, just before dawn. Infantry sleds will pick us up and deliver us to the edge of town, so we park it here tonight.” He coughed and spat. “Break out the trenching tools and dig in.”

  “Aw, man, foxholes? Again?” Kopshevar looked disgusted.

  “That’s right, Kopycat. Because the Freaks could hit us tonight. If we’re out in the open, we’re dead meat.”

  “Probably gonna shell us for sure,” Nick suggested. “Those fucking bumblebee drones they use will find us before daylight.”

  “Exactly, so quitcherbitchin’ and get to it.”

  Sunday, 19 August, 0435 (CC)

  Three Rivers – Alpha Centauri 2

  Someone in Foxtrot Company was carrying a drone detector and, just before midnight, picked up three bogeys circling north of the road. Insect drones are too small to hit with rifles, but are vulnerable to electronic disruption. The Fed Infantry had discovered that a standard mine detector could be converted in such a manner that high-frequency emissions could be directed at a specific target; Foxtrot had borrowed such a device, and after fifteen minutes of tracking the bugs, two were shorted out and the third actually caught fire and burned up.

  No artillery attack came that night.

  Second Battalion still faced the possibility of attack by rebel infantry. This close to the river, the rebels could easily send infiltrators upstream until they were close enough to attack. Consequently, one man out of every four remained awake, taking two-hour shifts. When it was his turn, Nick fixed his bayonet, crawled out of his foxhole, and lay behind the mounded dirt behind it. Only his he
lmet was visible, and in the near darkness, even that would be hard to see.

  It was a long two hours, especially since he was exhausted. But he remained alert. It wasn’t just his life on the line, but his entire squad. His two hours dragged interminably, but when Kopshevar took over, it was still quiet.

  Barely an hour later, someone in one of the other squads heard something, or thought he did, and opened up on full automatic, jerking the entire company out of its slumber. Before the sergeants could calm things down, half a dozen others began sweeping the field with automatic fire, but the enemy wasn’t there. Nick slumped back down in his hole, muttering obscenities.

  The officers were up at 0300, heads together, to plan the assault on Three Rivers. By 0400 they had it worked out, and wakened their men. A platoon of HVIs, running in whisper mode, arrived by 0415; Delta Company from 1st Battalion loaded up and braced themselves for battle. They would be the first in. Everyone else from both battalions—1st and 2nd—began walking in line-abreast, across the rough terrain, toward the town three miles away. The HVIs, after delivering Delta, would return for another company, and would continue to ferry troops until everyone was where they needed to be.

  According to the briefing, Three Rivers was the largest town they had seen since Goshen, and twice the size. Three Rivers, the largest city south of Monroe Falls, boasted a population of thirty thousand. The town was broken up by the rivers into four quadrants. First Battalion would assault the southeast quadrant, an industrial area, then cross the South Trimmer and sweep west to cut off rebel reinforcements from the north. Once that was done, 1st Battalion would attack the densely populated downtown area and squeeze the enemy against 2nd Battalion. They would be supported by gunsleds, P-guns, and 103rd Star Marine Artillery—the 205s had moved up during the night.

  *

  The sky was still dark, but a glow was rising in the east where Alpha Prime would appear in another hour. Due to planetary rotation, the western glow from Centauri B had shifted to the northwest, and the second binary would appear there later in the morning.

  The air was nippy, but not cold. The ground was uneven, but soft, thick with light brush and ankle-high weeds. Here and there the dens of small animals created hazards for anyone who couldn’t see where he was going. Nick wondered why, this close to a town, the ground hadn’t been cultivated. Every other small town they’d seen was surrounded by agriculture for several miles in each direction. Maybe Three Rivers wasn’t really a farm town, or maybe the fields were to the north or west.