Valkyrie

by Lucas Marcum

  Brian nodded grimly and said, “Yeah. They hit our hospital in force at midnight. Liz, I mean Captain Suarez and I only got out because our bird was on alert and was fueled and ready to lift. The rest of our crew didn’t make it. They must be attacking all across the line.”

  Sergeant Rogers nodded. “Yep. We were supposed to have come down in a secured DZ. Obviously, we’re going to have to do what drop troopers do: improvise. Here we are.”

  The pair stopped before a large, waist-deep pit dug in the ground, sandbags reinforcing the sides and camouflage netting over it. Brian started towards the entry, which was a rough-cut ramp in one side.

  As he entered, he could hear several conversations going on at once, multiple tactical radios, and the chirping of equipment.

  A loud, firm voice could be heard clearly over the background noise.

  “I think we can forget the plan, Captain. What you see around you is what the situation is. Get those scouts and drones out, get me a report, and find out where the hell the 2nd Armored is.”

  A solemn-faced young captain nodded and turned to his comm equipment, whispering into his mic. The man speaking was clad in power armor like all the soldiers present and had his back to the entrance. There was a comm array in front of him, and the grim faces of four officers were visible in the displays. Next to him stood another man with his helmet under his arm, his ebony face and hair standing out against his dust colored armor.

  The colonel continued, in a calm, matter-of-fact-voice, speaking to the faces on the screen.

  “All right, ladies and gentlemen. What we’ve got is a general Elai offensive, all along the lines. We dropped according to the plan for our offensive, so WE are where we’re supposed to be.” He nodded at a nearby major, who hit a control.

  A map appeared in the air in front of the colonel, with symbols and red lines blinking all over it. He continued, stabbing his armored finger at the map, “This is where we are. We are now forty clicks behind Elai lines. No reinforcements, no communication with division. No arty, except what we have. No air until the Navy finishes cleaning up upstairs, and for some goddamn reason, we lost our entire armor detachment. Not shot down—we got a garbled contact report—but we don’t know where the hell they are with all the dust and jamming. So. It’s us, our four infantry battalions, half of our field artillery battery, no medical assets, and a metric shit ton of Elai combined arms units.”

  Glancing at the man next to him, the Spaceborne commander asked, “That about sum it up, Command Sergeant Major?” The man nodded once, his face impassive.

  Turning back to the officer’s images in the screens, Colonel Terrell continued, “So, being cut off and surrounded, we’re going to act in the finest tradition of the Spaceborne. We are going to attack. Sean, you and the Atomjacks in First Battalion are going to advance to contact along vector three three five. Maria, Ivan, you and your people will advance in echelon, spaced out two to three clicks. When one makes contact, they are going to make a tactical withdrawal, and if the Elai pursue, you’ll hit ‘em in the flanks.” The faces on the screens nodded.

  Jabbing a finger at the map, he added, “If you need fires, call for ‘em. If you hit more than you can handle, though, break contact. As long as we’re active behind their lines, they can’t commit full forces to the offensive. We’re aiming to buy time for V Corps to get their lines reorganized, and to cause as much trouble as we can. Understood?” The faces on the screens nodded, grimly.

  The colonel spoke again, “All right, people. Get to work. Captain Vogel, hang back a moment.” Three of the faces disappeared. The image of a weary looking young man remained. The colonel regarded him closely for a moment before speaking.

  “Ok, Captain. I know you had it bad. Let me hear it. No bullshit.”

  The captain responded, “Sir, I have three hundred thirty-seven troopers on the ground. I have sixty-two dead and seriously wounded, and thirty-nine missing.” He paused for a minute before continuing, “Lieutenant Colonel Hagerty is missing; we think her pod went in, but we aren’t sure. Major Knut was seriously wounded when his pod came down in an Elai strongpoint. Most of the surviving regimental staff were killed with him, or are missing. We’re also way outta position, scattered to hell and gone. We won’t be able to make it for the push.”

  Terrell nodded, considered this for a moment, then spoke firmly, “Ok, Captain. Who’s left from Lieutenant Colonel Hagerty’s staff?”

  The young captain looked off to the side for a second, then replied, “Sir, we have Major Ziskin, the logistics officer, but uh…he’s…”

  Colonel Terrell’s expression hardened. “Spit it out, Captain.”

  The captain nodded. “Yes, Sir. He’s just sitting here and won’t move. We can’t get him to talk. He’s just mumbling and shaking. The medics checked him out, but we don’t know what’s wrong with him, and we can’t find anyone else from the staff.”

  Colonel Terrell nodded, thought a moment, then said firmly, “Ok, Captain. Fourth Battalion is yours for the time being. If your commander shows up, get her up to speed. If not, I’ll get an officer out as soon as we can. Until then, you’re in the big seat. Get your people organized and link up with us as fast as you can. You have your orders, Mister. Carry them out.” The young captain nodded, his face resolute, and his picture flickered out.

  The colonel turned slightly to check a display as one of the NCOs in the command post leaned towards him and whispered. Both the command sergeant major and the colonel turned together and looked at Brian.

  Brian did the only thing he could think of, which was to come to attention. “Staff Sergeant Brian Agawa, reporting as ordered.” The colonel and the sergeant major moved over to where Brian stood.

  Offering his hand to shake, the tall officer said, “Good to meet you, Sergeant Agawa. I’m Colonel Terrell, commander of the First Brigade Combat Team, and nominally in charge of this clusterfuck. This is Command Sergeant Major Binda.” The other man nodded once, his eyes hard, face expressionless.

  In a kind tone, Colonel Terrell said, “Sergeant, I’m glad you made it out. How’s your friend?”

  Brian frowned. “She’s pretty banged up, sir. She took a hell of a hit when our ‘Hawk went down. She’s one tough lady, to move as far and as fast as she did with all those busted ribs.” The colonel and the sergeant major nodded. The colonel looked closely at Brian’s face.

  “Sergeant, I know you’re tired, but I need everyone who’s capable up and operating. We lost a lot of people in the drop. I’m going to ask you just once, and if you aren’t, you let me know. Are you operational?”

  Brian straightened, the exhaustion falling off of him as he looked directly into the colonel’s eyes. “Sir, if it lets me get those goddamn sharkheads in my sights, I’m good to go.”

  The colonel grinned and replied, “Well, son. In that case, today is your lucky day. Sergeant Rogers, take Sergeant Agawa, feed him, run his armor through a diagnostic, and get him geared up. You have two hours, then we move out. Go check in on your friend. Dismissed.”

  Brian nodded once firmly, came to attention, and turned to leave. Brian and Sergeant Rogers stepped out of the command post as the colonel turned back to his battle staff. As they turned to find the aid station, they heard a soft voice from behind them.

  “Sergeants, a moment.” They turned and straightened. Sergeant Major Binda was standing behind them. Out of the command post, he appeared very tall, looming over both of the junior NCOs. His piercing eyes fixed them both.

  He spoke with a slight stutter, “S-s-sergeant Agawa. I need to know you’re g-g-good. I can’t have a w-w-weak point in the line. You’ve b-b-been through a…lot. There’s no s-s-s…s-shame in taking a knee.”

  Brian shook his head firmly. “I’m good, Sergeant Major. You have my word. I owe these pointy-toothed fucks some of my time.”

  The CSM examined his face closely, then nodded and responded in his quiet voice, “Ok, S-s-sergeant. Go get some f-f-food. We’re going to be moving s
oon and I need you alert. We’re s-s-short medics. Get moving.” There was more rumbling in the distance, and the three glanced to the west.

  After a second, the CSM gave them a glare, jerked his head towards the aid station, then turned and disappeared back into the dark of the command post without a word. Brian and Sergeant Rogers exchanged a glance, turned, and headed towards the aid station.

  After a moment, Sergeant Rogers muttered under her breath, “What a day.”

  Brian grunted, as more rumbling in the distance was audible, and replied, “Ain’t that the truth. Not over yet, though. Not by a long shot.”

  -8-

  “Counterattack”

  42 KILOMETERS WEST OF VALHALLA STATION, FORWARD BRIGADE CP, 1ST BRIGADE COMBAT TEAM, 17th INFANTRY DIVISION (SPACEBORNE)

  1834 hours, March 15, 2245

  Brian looked over from where he was standing, watching the new brigade command post being built in the gathering dusk. He shook his head. At least the damn dust storm had died down for the time being. He had been temporarily serving as the headquarters company medic while the new brigade command post was set up. He marveled again at how quickly it had been established. He’d been in the military for twelve years, and he was always impressed with how fast things could happen when they needed to. The brigade command post was up, the aid station was up, the supply point had already been established, and a defensive line was in the process of being built, with power-armored soldiers digging as fast as they could.

  As he watched, two troopers moved towards him, carrying a large box between them. Even with the augmented strength of their power armor, they grunted with effort. One nodded at a flat area near Brian, and they set their load down, then sat down next to it, puffing for air.

  One commented, slightly out of breath, “Whew! Shit, these things are heavy!” Curious, Brian turned and looked at the box. The soldiers, seeing him, leapt to their feet. “Sorry, Staff Sergeant! We didn’t see you there.”

  Brian shook his head, grinned at the private and specialist, and replied, “No sweat, soldiers. What is that?” He indicated the case.

  The soldiers traded a glance, then grinned. The specialist replied, “This, Sergeant, is a little surprise for those fuckers out there. This is a loiter drone system, with forty-five drones.”

  Brian stepped closer, peering at it curiously, and asked, “What does it do?”

  The private answered, “Well, we find an area where there’s lots of bad guys or there’s going to be lots of bad guys. We open the case here, and let the drones out. They go to altitude and stealth until they find targets. Anything using Elai command frequencies, troop concentrations without IFF, unrecognized armor, and all sorts of other neat options. They can linger for up to a week, give or take a few days. Nasty little fuckers.”

  The specialist laughed. “The Elai still bury their mines. They used to do that on Earth in the old days, but this way we don’t have to wait for one to step on one. We’re setting up a belt here in case the headquarters company gets hit while the maneuver units are out beating Elai ass.” He patted the case lovingly. “These bad motherfuckers are going to be a nasty surprise for our friends out there.”

  The private added, “There’s other cool shit out here, too; I heard the 101st Space Assault is on the ground with their new mechs, looking to kick the dogshit out of these guys from the west. Those things are loaded with all sorts of shit to hit them with. We got this, Sergeant. The sharkies just don’t know it yet.”

  Brian grinned darkly and nodded. “I like it. We coulda used those at my last unit. Well, don’t let me keep you.” He motioned for the troops to keep moving and stepped back to let them pass.

  “Agawa,” Sergeant Rogers’ voice came through the gathering gloom. He turned again. The other NCO had come up to him, and motioned towards the aid station, “Let’s get your aid bag topped off. Something’s happening.”

  Brian started towards the aid station, walking fast next to Sergeant Rogers.

  “What’s going on?” he asked as they walked.

  Rogers shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Probably has something to do with that.” She gestured upward. Brian stopped and looked up.

  In the darkening sky, the stars were clearly visible. Suddenly a hard point of light grew, then faded, then another. Several smaller ones grew and vanished in quick succession. A short streak burned across the sky, then faded. Several more rapidly followed it, turning into several separate points burning across the sky. The flashes continued in a silent light show.

  Brian stared up in awe for a moment, then asked in a low tone, “Is that the Fleet?”

  Rogers nodded. “Think so. Looks like the Elai Navy didn’t run after all. There must be a hell of a fight going on up there.” They watched the distant battle in silence for a moment. Brian knew with every flash of light thousands of men and women were dying, but it seemed like it was a thousand miles away. After a moment, they continued towards the aid station, trudging without a word.

  The aid station was a beehive of activity. Elizabeth stood in the middle of it, giving orders and directing the chaos as the aid station staff frantically prepared for casualties. Her power armor was battered, but clean; her face looked tired, but focused.

  Brian stepped in, pushing past the medics and soldiers bustling around the aid station, then leaned close to her and whispered, “Ma’am, what the fuck are you doing? You ought to be in one of these beds, not doing whatever it is you’re doing now.” She gave him a stubborn look, one he recognized from their long time assigned together. He wasn’t going to win this one.

  She glared at him, pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, and responded in a low, intense tone, “Brian, their medical staff is dead. The nurses, the surgeons, everyone. The ranking medical officer here is a medical logistics officer, and while he’s a nice guy, effectively useless clinically.” She gestured at the aid station. “These five medics, you, and me are it.” She looked at him closely, then spoke again in a low voice, “I can’t lie down. You know I can’t. You wouldn’t.”

  He stared at her for a moment, trying to decide if it was worth it to argue with her. Finally, he sighed, “Ok. You win. How are your ribs?”

  She grimaced. “Not great. I taught one of the medics how to do an intercostal nerve block, which helped a lot, and I don’t have a punctured lung, but it’s not going to be comfortable. We taped them up and cinched my armor tight over them. Still. Could be worse.” She nodded her head at the medics and continued, “You know, one of them asked when the Valkyries were coming to evac us? Brian, they don’t know.” Her eyes burned into his. “I had to keep their spirits up. Valkyries don’t die.”

  He stared back, then slowly nodded. “Goddamn right, we don’t. You be safe. I’ll see you afterwards.”

  She grasped his armored arm for a moment, then stepped back to speak to the rest of the medics. “Everyone, this is Staff Sergeant Agawa, the flight medic I was telling you about. He’ll be covering the perimeter. You’ll see him bringing wounded in. If he tells you something, take it as the word of God. He’s got way more experience than you and knows what he’s doing.” She stopped, then looked at Brian. In a firm voice, she ordered, “Gear up, Sergeant Agawa.”

  He nodded, stooped to grab a field medical pack, and left the aid station.

  ****

  Inside the Brigade Command Post, Colonel Mike Terrell stood with a foot up on a chair, elbow resting on his knee, a forgotten cup of coffee in his hand. He was watching the monitors over a major’s shoulder that displayed the movement of his battalions. His dour sergeant major stood nearby with his arms folded, frowning at the displays.

  A specialist on a nearby instrument panel said, “Sir, the dust storm is picking up again.” Terrell nodded absently and went to take a sip of coffee, only to find it was completely cold.

  He grimaced and drank it in a single gulp, then straightened up and spoke firmly to the major manning the battalion communications system.

  “Ok, Major Martinez
. As soon as they make contact, I want to hear it.” The major nodded. Colonel Terrell turned to a staff sergeant manning a piece of communications equipment. “Anything from our friends upstairs?”

  Shaking his head, the comm sergeant replied, “No, Sir. Last I heard from our liaison on the Phoenix was about fifty minutes ago, and all he said was, ‘We’re busy; no time to talk’. Nothing since.”

  The colonel frowned and turned to Sergeant Major Binda. “Thoughts, Sergeant Major?”

  The tall senior enlisted man shook his head and spoke in a soft voice with a slight stutter, “N-n-nothing g-good, Sir. The N-navy is usually p-p-pretty good about answering the p-p-phone. I don’t like it.”

  Colonel Terrell shook his head. “I agree.” He paused, drumming his fingers on a nearby desktop, then straightened up and snapped his fingers decisively. “Well, shit. Can’t have everything. Major, call the regimental commanders. I need to update them.” Major Martinez nodded and set to work.

  Simultaneously, a sergeant across the command post called out, “Sir, ground sensor contacts! Three five seven, at one thousand meters! No IFF, possible enemy infantry.”

  Colonel Terrell and Sergeant Major Bindu exchanged a glance and moved to the tactical station to watch the board. The sergeant on the sensor station spoke again, “Second sensor contact; three five five, looks like a second group.”

  Colonel Terrell nodded at the headquarters company commander, a newly promoted captain. “Well, Captain Esteban, looks like you have company. Defend this position.”

  The captain stood up straight and nodded once, then started giving orders. “Sergeant, alert the perimeter defense. We have Elai infantry at one thousand meters and closing. Get the troops in their holes. Launch the loiter drones, get the Mark 30 crews on their guns, and make sure they have extra energy cells. Order the troops to open fire as soon as they’re in effective range. Mark 80 Autos and Smart Mortars, hold fire until their heavy weapons squads reveal themselves, then command will direct fire.” The company first sergeant for the headquarters detachment started snapping orders over the local defense net.