by Jay Allan
We boarded the shuttles and rode back to the ship in almost total silence. Everyone was in a dazed stupor, and after we docked I just left everyone alone for a few days. No reports, no training, no drills. I let them mourn our dead in their own ways.
In the days after the battle we managed to piece together what had happened. It seems there had been a rebellion among the workers that shut down production. Shortly before my strikeforce took the station at Gliese, the Mubarizun expedition had been dispatched to support the garrison, which had not been able to take the mines back from the rebels. The elite troops quickly wiped out the rebellious workers, but they couldn't withdraw because we now controlled the Gliese 250 system. So we blundered into a prepared and fortified force of elite troops where we'd expected only garrison. And we'd paid the price in blood.
The garrison troops had Mubarizun units embedded with them, which explains why they fought so hard on the surface. In the end there were no prisoners at all, and even if they'd tried to surrender, after the losses we'd taken I doubt any of us would have accepted it. When a battle reaches a certain point, when the cost has been too high, it becomes a struggle to the death.
So I'd been in another battle where my troops suffered 50% casualties, and a very large percentage of those were killed. More ghosts to share my fitful and restless sleep.
Johnson's battalion got hurt even worse, with casualties over 70%. In the end the general had to rescue them with a reserve battalion, which itself took 20% losses. Tyler Johnson would have plenty of time to think about his own ghosts. His men pulled him out of the mines still alive, but barely. Now he would go through the ordeal of growing two new arms and two new legs, among other treatments. He was a good officer, but I didn't know if he'd ever be the same again. I wanted to see him before he was shipped back to Gliese, but he was heavily sedated and kept in medical isolation, so it wasn't possible.
The task force set a course around 79 Ceti toward the warp gate leading to HD 44594, while the battered marines onboard licked their wounds and tried to reorder themselves. There was still one fight left on this campaign, though none of us really had the stomach for it.
The Lafayette, one of the large transports was detached back to Gliese with the wounded as the rest of us pressed on. My battalion had 540 men and women at full strength. The day we went through the warp gate to HD 44594 I we had 252 fit for duty. Sanchez was dead, and Rijis was wounded and en route for Gliese, so two of the three companies were without their commanders. Most of the platoon leaders were on their first campaign in that post, and I really didn't want to put a green lieutenant in command of a company, even a seriously shrunken one. I transferred most of the battalion auxiliaries to Frost's company to bring it up to strength, and I combined Sanchez's and Rijis' companies and put Jax in charge. It wasn't a demotion for Jax, but I needed a solid company commander more than an exec right now. I kept two heavy weapons teams under my direct command as a battalion reserve.
After we'd emerged into the HD 44594 system, I shuttled over to the general's ship for a conference. We could have done it over the communications grid, but after the fight on Eridu, I think he just wanted to meet with me in person. I could immediately tell he felt guilty for the bad intel and the losses we'd suffered as a result. General Holm had his own retinue of ghosts, and it was even bigger than mine.
He told me he was going to try to keep my people out of the next fight, but that he might need us for reserves. I told him we were ready to drop in front of an enemy division if that's where he needed us. He transferred the remnants of Johnson's shattered battalion to me, and I organized most of them into a third company. I took the snipers and heavy weapons teams and added them to mine to beef up the battalion reserve. We were still below strength, but a lot better off than before.
Johnson's troops were on the Iwo Jima, and it wasn't practical to move them over to the Belleau Wood, so we'd assemble the battalion on the ground if it came to that. I thought Johnson's men would need some attention, though, so I requested permission to shuttle over to their ship on my way back. The general agreed completely and even decided to go with me.
The visit had a tremendous impact on the troops, whose morale had been sorely battered. Major Johnson had been very popular, and the battalion had taken horrific losses fighting in almost impossible conditions. We gave them an update on the major - he was going to survive, and he would eventually report back to duty. Then I welcomed them to my battalion and told them I was proud to have them join us. The general gave them a somber but inspiring pep talk that seemed to help somewhat.
As it turned out, we did see more action on the campaign. The third planet of the system was a world just like Earth, and if it hadn't been situated in a remote dead end in space, it would have attracted enormous colonization interest. As it was, it served mostly as an agricultural world, producing food for export to nearby colonies. It had been colonized by a group of religious extremists too fanatical even for the Caliph's tastes. So he accommodated them by giving the group their own planet, and in doing so got them off of Earth and secured a food supply for his Rim colonies.
Great. More fanatics. One of these days I wanted to fight a sane enemy. There were no regular troops posted on the world, which they had named Aroush, but the entire civilian population would likely fight to the death. Where there weren't farms, the planet was covered with deep pine forests, giving a guerilla force a lot of places to hide. The entire battle was a series of search and destroy actions to hunt down the locals. We ended up having to rotate in and relieve some of the units from the initial wave.
Our wounds were still fresh, and we were in no mood to be gentle with any enemy, particularly a bunch of suicidal religious crazies. I've never seen troops under my command act so much like grim executioners, and we swept entire areas, killing everyone we found.
It was three weeks before we'd eliminated the last holdouts and General Holm declared the campaign completed. The savagery of the whole thing had been beyond anything we had expected. Two of the three worlds we had invaded were now uninhabited graveyards. The Mubarizun had massacred the rebellious population on Eridu, and were themselves wiped out in the battle with us. On Aroush we'd systematically hunted down and killed every occupant of the planet, all of whom had taken up arms to fight us.
I managed to arrange to have the troops from Tyler Johnson's old battalion transferred to the Belleau Wood when we re-embarked. They'd meshed very well on the ground, and were well on the way to becoming a full-fledged part of my battalion, a process I intended to see completed on the long trip back to Gliese 250.
We'd had a hard campaign, but I wanted us to be back to total readiness as soon as possible. Rumors were rampant that General Holm would be mounting another campaign from Gliese, this time against the outer rim, and I was sure my battalion would be part of it.
I would be saying goodbye to my liaison officer, who was heading back to PRC headquarters before being posted to a new command. Aoki wasn't even going to the station at Gliese, but would be shuttling directly to an outbound PRC cruiser. There was an informal black market on ships, and even throughout entire fleets, where liquor, food, and other rarities were obtainable. I did a little trading myself and managed to secure a few pounds of good ground beef. We had a little going away party on Aoki's last night with us, complete with very rare burgers.
A few days later I found out he wasn't the only one leaving. I was in my office working on supply manifests for the battalion when I realized I hadn't eaten all day. I was just about to get up and run down to the officer's club for dinner when my buzzer sounded, and in walked General Holm. I jumped to my feet and saluted, but he waved for me to sit down as he dropped hard into the other chair.
"General, I'm glad to see you." And surprised. Usually when a general wanted to see a major, the major went to the general, not the other way around.
"Erik, I have some news for you. First, you're being decorated again."
"General," - interrupting a ge
neral is stupid, by the way - "that is not necessary. I just did my job."
"It is very necessary. In fact, there is no way around it. Johnson's battalion got their asses handed to them on Eridu even after they had preliminary intel from you. And Tyler Johnson is a good officer. Yet your people won their fight with no backup. Then you took the wreck of Johnson's group and made them a part of your battalion and had them in the field three weeks later."
I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I didn't have the easiest time accepting praise. It made me uncomfortable. Finally I just said, "Thank you, sir."
He looked at me with a strange look on his face. "Let's see how much you want to thank me when you hear the rest of it. Erik, you are the youngest major in corps history. You are the most decorated officer at your rank. You are a hero of this war." He paused, as if he didn't want to continue. "You're going back to Earth, and you will receive your medal from the president of the Western Alliance. Then you will go on a tour of major cities, meeting with local dignitaries, attending events, and that sort of thing. You'll be on Earth for four months before reporting back for combat duty."
I shifted in my seat, suddenly very uncomfortable. "Sir, I'd really rather stay with my battalion. They had a hard campaign, and I think it would be harmful for them to lose their commander right now."
The general's expression was a combination of sympathy and amusement. "Erik, there's no squirming out of this one. This comes from way above me. The Earthside politicians want some war heroes to show off at parties and receptions. There's no way to turn down a decoration from the president. You'll be part of a whole delegation. I'm sure it will be first class all the way."
He paused again, though just for a moment. "Trust me, I'm as upset about this as you. I'm going out against the outer rim, and I don't like losing my best battalion commander and one of my most trusted officers. And a friend too. I'm going to miss having you around, Erik."
He got up to leave, but first walked over and extended his hand. "You are leaving the day after tomorrow on the Pershing."
I took his hand and we shook, then he turned and left. I stood for a minute or two, then slumped back into my chair.
I wasn't hungry anymore.
Chapter Eleven
AS Wasp
Approaching Earth
Earth. It looked unreal, a blue orb slowly getting bigger on the viewscreen as we made our final approach. It was beautiful from space, but of course there are many kinds of beauty, and appearances are often deceiving.
Earth. My home. Or at least my birthplace. I hadn't been there for nine years, and I hadn't left with any great affection for the place. But still, this was where I was from; this was where all those colonists I'd fought to defend came from, or at least where their parents or grandparents did.
I was really dreading this. First, I was missing the Outer Rim campaign, which was General Holm's operation to take out the Caliphate colonies between Gliese 250 and the unexplored frontier. My battalion was going - actually it was already gone - on the way to 23 Librae, the first objective of the campaign. Thinking about my troops out there without me made me sick to my stomach. The fact that they were fighting without me so I could appease the vanity of a bunch of politicians made me quiver with rage.
Beyond that, I didn't particularly care for being heaped with praise, and unless it came from one of the few people I respected, I assumed it was insincere, self-serving bullshit anyway. I hated the thought of being the politicians' propaganda tool, but I wasn't given any choice, so I tried to gracefully accept the assignment. Being wined and dined by a bunch of government types while our troops were out fighting and dying was as close to my own version of hell as I could imagine. And I'd seen some very convincing incarnations of hell.
There was one bright spot, and I was sure I owed that one to General Holm. I was part of a whole delegation, and somehow he'd gotten Captain-Doctor Sarah Linden appointed. Officially she was there to speak about the medical care our troops were receiving, but I couldn't believe it was a coincidence. I have no idea how he even knew about the two of us, but I was grateful.
She was coming from Armstrong on another ship, and the best idea I could figure from the schedules I could access was that she should have arrived a couple days before mine. I was excited to see her, but also nervous. We'd corresponded as frequently as interstellar communications in wartime allowed, but I hadn't seen her since right after graduation. The little bit of time we'd spent together was amazing, but I didn't know what to expect now.
I was treated like a guest of honor on the destroyer Wasp, and Captain Grinsky gave me the run of the ship, the command bridge included. Once we entered the solar system I started spending a lot of time up there, checking out the changing view of the familiar layout of planets.
Our course took us past Saturn, and the close in view of that magnificent planet and its rings was amazing. As we approached close to Titan we got an incredible view of that massive orange moon. Titan was a Martian Confederation possession, and we were shadowed by a Confed patrol vessel until we'd passed out of weapons range.
The treaties that had maintained peace on Earth for a century also regulated the use of the solar system. Sol had five warp gates, and the warp nexus in the Centauri system had another eight, and both systems were neutral space where combat was forbidden by treaty. The powers could establish space stations and outposts for refueling and similar purposes, but arming them in any way was forbidden.
Most of the colonized areas of the solar system itself were part of the Martian Confederation, though the Alliance controlled Mercury and shared Europa with the Confeds. All of the Earth powers had bases on the moon, which was divided into eight sectors.
We'd come in from the Ross 128 warp gate, which was the furthest one out from Earth's orbit and currently on the opposite side of Sol, so our inbound voyage took seventeen days. When we passed the moon's orbit, the captain commed me and asked if I wanted to come up to the bridge and watch the final approach and docking.
We were scheduled to dock with Alliance Station One, the first of the Alliance's three large transfer stations in Earth orbit. The Caliphate also had three stations, but most of the other powers only had two. The South American Empire was down to one, having lost the other in a reactor accident about fifteen years before. The station was enormous, bigger even than the one at Gliese 250. There were umbilicals for at least a hundred ships of various sizes, including several large enough to dock battleships.
The wasp's primary screen projected the view ahead, and the secondary screens displayed shots transmitted from the station, showing our approach. I was impressed with how well the crew functioned, handing the multitude of operations required to dock the ship with practiced ease.
The ship moved slowly, powered only by positioning thrusters, until it latched onto the docking port and came to a total stop. On the monitors I could see about ten bots and two or three technicians in space suits maneuvering toward the ship to attach various umbilicals. These connections would be used for refueling and resupply of the Wasp while it was in orbit. According to the manifest, they were due to depart in 48 hours, which was a crash schedule to get a warship refueled and rearmed. But there was a war on.
I said my goodbyes to the Wasp crew, and gave the captain my heartfelt thanks for her hospitality. I took the lift down to the docking portal and met my assistant, Sergeant Warren, who had my baggage packed on a hover-sled and ready to go. We walked down the tube, which led to an access gate on the station. We were in the military section, so we could dispense with the security and customs hassles that awaited civilian travelers.
I expected to have an officer meet me to escort me planetside, but I wasn't ready for the delegation that was waiting. Outside the docking portal was an honor guard of two squads in full dress uniform lining my path and a delegation of six officers with a press detachment. I instantly became uncomfortable, and I had to fight the urge to turn around and head back to the Wasp,
but then I caught a glimpse through the crowd at a mound of tousled blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.
What was she doing here? I thought she'd be on Earth by now. I immediately forgot the reporters and film crew and overblown reception committee. And I certainly forgot any desire to run back to the Wasp. I wanted to push my way through the crowd to get to her, but the major in me said I had to meet the delegation first. I immediately decided he was a pain in the ass, but I reluctantly obeyed myself and stood fast.
I walked down the line of officers, giving each one a sharp salute followed by a handshake. I'd worked most of the way down the line, from a colonel to a first lieutenant when I finally got a good look at her through the crowd. When I looked into her eyes and saw the smile she flashed me, all my apprehensions disappeared.
I saw a small podium and suddenly realized with horror that I was expected to say something. The combat reflexes took over and I walked right up to it and gave them my best authoritative hero voice. "Thank you so much for this unexpected and overwhelming welcome." I paused for a few seconds, looking thoughtful, but actually trying to think of something to say. "I have been away for a long time, and I can't tell you how happy I am to be back." A lie, but a polite one at least.
"I stand here as an officer sent to receive a tremendous honor, but I am not here just for myself. I am here for all those marines, living or dead, who have fought so bravely throughout explored space." That drew some applause. Yes, I thought, you all should applaud for those men and women. They are the real heroes. "I am very anxious to get down to the surface," - another lie - "and see home after nine years away, so I hope you will forgive me for keeping these comments brief. Thank you all. Now excuse me, I have to go kiss my doctor."