by Piers Platt
* * *
At the abandoned Jokuan command center inside the spaceport terminal, Dasi shut her holophone, and touched the tactical microphone at her throat.
“Martin,” she radioed. “I just relayed the news to Atalia. She’s headed for the transfer station’s control center now.”
“Good,” Beauceron replied. “We’re nearly set out here.”
“Where are you?” Dasi asked, standing up. “I’ll come join you.”
>>>This computer terminal may be linked to other Jokuan terminals, Six told Dasi. That could present us with interesting opportunities.
“I’m on the right side of the platform, at the top of the ramp,” Beauceron replied. “Colonel Emeka is on the other ramp.”
“Actually, scratch that,” Dasi told Beauceron. “I’m going to take another minute to dig around on their computers first.”
“Okay,” Beauceron said.
Dasi sat back down, and at Six’s prompting, accessed the computer’s wireless settings. She typed in a line of code, and then hit Enter.
>>>I am now linked directly to the computer via wireless, Six said. Please give me some time to assess what is available.
Go for it, Dasi said.
>>>Done, Six told her, a split second later. Dasi grinned. This station appears to have access to the full Jokuan network.
What can we see? Dasi asked.
On the monitor in front of her, the view changed, showing a satellite map of Tarkis. A number of red dots appeared, scattered haphazardly around the map.
>>>This is a real-time view of the disposition of Jokuan forces.
Yeah, keep that handy, Dasi replied.
>>>I am also monitoring encrypted radio traffic on multiple channels, Six said. Given the number of channels and stations broadcasting at one time, I will keep that muted.
Good, Dasi told the program. Just let me know if there’s a specific radio transmission I should hear.
>>>I have downloaded the Jokuans’ operational plan, Six continued. Major objectives are highlighted in blue on the map. During this initial phase, they appear to be focused on seizing key industrial production centers. They are slightly behind schedule, however. Looting and other criminal activities by Jokuan soldiers have delayed their progress.
Dasi zoomed in on the map. A few of those factories aren’t too far from here, she observed. The units tasked with seizing them may pass close by the spaceport.
>>>We have a more immediate concern, Six said. There is an infantry platoon approaching on foot from the south.
They’re coming here? Dasi asked.
>>>Their orders are to determine why the unit at the spaceport failed to make their last scheduled radio check-in, and help re-establish communications.
Oh, shit, Dasi thought. “Martin, enemy platoon approaching from the south,” she radioed.
“Already?” Colonel Emeka asked.
“Apparently we missed a scheduled radio report,” Dasi told them. “They’re coming to see why.”
“How many?” Beauceron asked.
“About thirty, on foot,” Dasi told him. “I have them on the map in here – they’re about eight blocks away from the base of your ramp.”
Dasi’s holophone chirped. She frowned and looked down at it, then routed the call to her internal computer and answered.
“Private Apter?”
“This is General Childers, Private. Is Detective Beauceron available?”
“Let me patch him in,” Dasi said. At her instruction, Six linked the call to their tactical radios. “I have Detective Beauceron and Colonel Emeka on the line now, sir.”
“Sir,” Beauceron said. “I’m happy to report that we hold the spaceport, and we’re in the midst of seizing the transfer station. So far, the operation has gone without a hitch, but—”
“Detective, the situation on Anchorpoint has evolved somewhat,” Childers interrupted. “Senator Foss survived the attack on Anchorpoint and now, well … he’s back.”
Foss! Dasi thought. That can’t be good.
“What about District Attorney Hawken?” Dasi asked.
“Mr. Hawken has been relieved of his responsibilities,” Childers told her. “He has been accused of aiding the enemy.”
“That’s a lie, sir!” Dasi blurted. “Sorry, but it’s bullshit – Foss just wants control of the Federacy for himself.”
“If that’s the case, I’m sure the investigation will determine the truth of the matter, Private,” Childers said. “Regardless, Senator Foss is the ranking official, so he’s calling the shots. And as it turns out, the senator was negotiating a truce with General Yo-Tsai.”
What? Dasi thought. That’s another big coincidence. Foss is up to his neck in this, I can feel it.
“… Senator Foss is still pursuing diplomatic options, and your presence there puts those options in jeopardy.” Childers continued. He cleared his throat. “So he has asked me to make it clear to you folks that this mission should be aborted as soon as humanly possible.”
“You want us to just abandon the spaceport?” Beauceron asked. “Sir, I … I can’t. Without the spaceport and transfer station, the reinforcements you’re sending will have nowhere to land. They’ll get slaughtered in orbit by the Jokuan fleet.”
“Detective, there are no reinforcements coming. We’re not sending anyone, and the Fleet Reaction Force is standing down, too.”
“What about the people of Tarkis?” Colonel Emeka asked. “Who’s going to defend them if we leave?”
“I’m giving you a direct order to stand down, Colonel,” General Childers said.
“This is my home, General,” Emeka replied. “What would you do?”
“Those Jokuan troops are getting closer,” Dasi warned them, watching the map on her computer screen.
“I’m not standing there in your shoes, Colonel,” Childers said, sighing. “But I think that if I swore an oath to protect the people of Tarkis, that would probably count for a lot more than the oath I took to follow the orders of my superiors, and the senators who appointed them.”
“God damn right,” Emeka grunted.
“But I need to be clear: if you decide to fight, you’re on your own,” Childers concluded.
* * *
Beauceron stood behind the hood of the armored truck and peered out into the darkness. Below him, past the end of the ramp, he could see a series of low buildings spreading out from the spaceport – warehouses for processing the cargo that came in and out of the spaceport, he guessed. Then, in the light of a street lamp, he saw several soldiers turn a corner from a side street. The rest of the Jokuan platoon followed them onto the street, and split into two halves, one on each side of the street.
“Tarkis IP, this is Colonel Emeka,” the colonel radioed. “Bad news. Those reinforcements they promised us aren’t coming. Neither is the fleet. So that means … well, that means it’s just us. I don’t know what good staying here and fighting is going to do, honestly. But I don’t think I can just go home and watch as they burn this planet to the ground. So I’m staying. Each of you needs to decide for yourself whether to go or stay.”
The radio went silent. Beauceron saw a pair of officers next to him trade looks. The detective keyed his radio.
“This is Detective Beauceron. I think our actions here could distract the Jokuans, and that could help our colleagues up in orbit seize the drone command ship. And even if we lose Tarkis, taking those drones out of the equation will save a lot of citizens’ lives, across the Federacy. So I’m staying.”
“This is Private Apter,” Dasi added. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The officer closest to Beauceron eyed him for a moment, and then touched his own throat microphone. “I’m staying.”
“So am I,” his partner echoed.
Across the platform, the rest of the officers radioed in their agreement, until the net was a jumble of noise. Beauceron smiled sadly, and then turned back to face the ramp. On either side of him, the Tarkis officers resumed thei
r positions, pointing their weapons out. The Jokuan infantry were close now, just half a block from the end of the ramp. They walked slowly, unhurriedly – Beauceron heard several of them talking to one another.
“Steady,” Beauceron radioed. “Let them come. Wait for my signal.”
When they reached the bottom of the ramp, they paused briefly, eyeing the vehicles at the top of the ramp. A young officer stepped forward, and called out something in Jokuan that Beauceron could not understand.
The police officer next to Beauceron looked over at him. “What do we do, sir?” he whispered.
Beauceron could see the young officer at the bottom of the ramp, frowning. He called out again. Beauceron lifted his rifle and took aim at the man’s chest. I’m sorry. But you should not have come here. He pulled the trigger.
The weapon barked, and the Jokuan officer fell forward onto his face. For a moment, nothing at all happened, and then the rest of the police officers opened fire. The noise of the heavy machine gun on top of the truck deafened Beauceron – he watched as the rounds rained down among the men at the bottom of the ramp. In moments, most of the Jokuan platoon had been killed. The rest turned and ran, and as they disappeared among the buildings, the Tarkis officers ceased firing.
A ragged cheer went up from the policemen around Beauceron. The man next to him clapped him on the shoulder. “We did it, sir!” he exulted.
Beauceron forced himself to smile back. “Well done, everyone,” he radioed out. “Don’t forget to reload your weapons.”
Colonel Emeka appeared out of the gloom on the platform. He surveyed the carnage at the bottom of the ramp.
“We should see if any of them are still alive,” Beauceron told him. “They may need treatment.”
“If they do, they’re shit out of luck at the moment,” Emeka observed, grimacing. “I’d better see if I can get a couple ambulances out here.”
“Or just some EMTs,” Beauceron agreed.
“Mm,” Emeka said. He shook his head. “Let me put a detail together to head down there. And I’ll start making some calls about medical assistance. I imagine we’ll have need of a few ambulances ourselves soon enough.”
22
The Jokuan platoon leader smashed the jewelry display case with the butt of his rifle, shattering the glass. He reached in and picked up the black felt tray, which held dozens of diamonds, and then dumped it unceremoniously into his rucksack.
“Time to go,” he told his driver.
They stepped over the bodies of the shopkeeper and his wife, who lay in a pool of blood near the store’s entrance, and emerged out on the streets of Tarkis.
“Mount up, Blue Platoon!” the platoon leader yelled.
His men hurried out of shops along the street, heading for the armored trucks, carrying their stolen goods. One of his NCOs was carrying a large, high-definition viewscreen.
“Where the fuck are you going to put that?” the platoon leader called to him.
“Gonna strap it to the roof, sir.”
He heard a scream, and the last of his soldiers appeared from inside an apartment building, hauling a young girl by the hair. She screamed again, in pain and fear.
The platoon leader frowned, and walked over to the soldier. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.
“Just bringing some entertainment along with us, sir,” the soldier said, grinning.
“No, you’re not,” the platoon leader said.
“You can have her first,” the soldier offered.
“I don’t care who has her first, I’m not feeding her for the next four days,” the platoon leader replied. “Now leave her – we’ll find another one once we’ve seized the objective.”
“Yes, sir,” the soldier agreed, disappointed. He let the girl go, and she turned and ran for the apartment building. The soldier pointed his pistol after her and fired, laughing, but the bullet missed, and she disappeared inside.
The platoon leader headed back toward his armored truck, counting the soldiers in the other three trucks as he went. Then he opened his passenger door and took a seat, pulling the radio mic from its place on his tactical vest as the patrol started down the street.
“This is Blue One: slant four, negative enemy contact, passing checkpoint Romeo Five. Continuing mission to secure eastern hydro-electric plant.”
“Roger, Blue One,” the reply came from the radio’s speaker, acknowledging his report.
“Getting dark, sir,” the driver observed, pointing through his windshield at the last remnants of the sun, setting past the buildings ahead of them.
“Mm,” the platoon leader agreed. “We’ll switch to night vision in a minute.”
“So far this has been the most boring invasion ever,” the driver complained. “Making me miss the good old days back on Jokuan.”
They turned the corner onto a new street, and the three other vehicles in the platoon followed close behind. Then the driver slammed on his brakes.
“What the fuck?”
The platoon leader looked up from his station. A single Jokuan tank stood parked in the middle of the street ahead of them, gun tube pointed at their patrol. His radio crackled to life again – it was the platoon sergeant, in the patrol’s rear vehicle.
“What unit is that? I thought we were supposed to have this sector to ourselves, sir.”
“I thought so too,” the platoon leader sent back, frowning. “Maybe he’s lost.”
“Well, go find out, sir.”
The platoon leader scowled, but opened his door, picking his auto-rifle up out of its stand. “Stay here,” he told his driver.
* * *
In the gathering darkness, Rath slipped out from behind the parked van and ran, hunched over, to the back of the last truck in the formation. He climbed the truck’s rear with practiced ease, drawing a fighting knife when he reached the roof. In front of him, the truck’s gunner had swiveled in his turret, pointing his grenade launcher forward as he watched the tank.
You fucked up, pal, Rath thought. Who’s on rear security if you’re looking at the tank?
Rath crept up behind him, then lunged forward, covering the soldier’s mouth with one hand. Rath stabbed him at the base of his skull, severing the spinal cord with a single, quick thrust. The man went limp in his hands. Rath sheathed the knife, still holding him up, and then pulled a grenade off the man’s belt. He set it to Stun and then dropped it through the hatch down into the vehicle, taking cover behind the man’s body.
The grenade exploded with a brilliant flash of light and an ear-splitting thunderclap, knocking the vehicle’s inhabitants unconscious. Rath pushed the dead gunner to the side and took hold of the grenade launcher, checking briefly to ensure it was loaded, safety off. Then he took aim at the next truck in the patrol and opened fire, walking the grenade rounds slowly and carefully over each truck in turn.
The last truck, which had been parked in the lead, managed to start driving before Rath reached it, but he merely shifted aim and put two rounds into the truck’s rear quarter. The resulting explosion flipped the truck forward onto its roof, where it lay burning. Rath put two more rounds into it for good measure.
The whip-crack of a rifle round made him duck in the turret – a single soldier had dismounted from the lead truck, and was now shooting at him. Rath watched as the tank’s main gun swiveled, centering itself on the soldier. Jaymy fired a short burst with the tank’s coaxial machine gun, and the rounds tattooed along the pavement to one side of the kneeling soldier. He dropped his rifle in alarm, holding both hands aloft.
Rath smiled. He took one more grenade off of the dead gunner, set it on a short delay, and dropped it through the turret. Then he hopped off the roof, jogging along the row of burning vehicles. The grenade exploded as he reached the officer, setting the truck on fire. Rath took the young lieutenant’s rifle off the street, and then removed the man’s grenades and side-arm, strapping them onto his own tactical vest. Jaymy popped her head out of the turret a second later.
<
br /> “Everything okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Rath said. “Good job.” He eyed his prisoner, who was still kneeling on the pavement.
The officer complied, swallowing nervously.
Rath glanced back over his shoulder at the burning convoy.
The man licked his lips, and pointed upward tentatively, at the buildings and structures towering above them.
Rath pointed the rifle at the man’s radio.
The man fumbled with the controls for a second, and then keyed the microphone.
There was a moment of silence.
He shrugged at Rath.
The officer relayed Rath’s request. Again, there was a long pause, and then the radio directed them to switch frequencies, to a command net. The officer fiddled with the radio, switching to the new channel. They heard a new voice, already broadcasting.
<… just lost most of the platoon!> the voice yelled.
Rath grabbed the lieutenant’s hand, preventing him from broadcasting his own message.