by Danny Loomis
Three hours later, Captain Bell and First Sergeant Jelnick were admitted to the office of Mayor Stroud. “Please be seated, gentlemen,” he said.
Bell remained standing, as did Jelnick. “Sir, I have come to offer my apologies for the conduct of my soldiers.”
The mayor’s expression remained bland, but his eyes flashed. “Apologies, Captain? Is that how you redress the criminal conduct of your subordinates?”
Bell stiffened. “The three men involved in the rape and killing have been arrested and will stand trial on capital offense charges, which means the death penalty. Lieutenant Ness has been relieved of duty and will be sent back to Phoenix to be court martialled for his actions. The minute my replacement arrives, I will resign my commission.”
Mayor Stroud relaxed, and nodded soberly. “All that is comforting to know. There are, however, two other items we must discuss. Three, actually, so please have a seat.”
While they were getting settled, the Mayor handed a print-out to Bell. “I’ve been in touch with President Martinez on this matter. He left it up to me to decide what actions should be taken against you and those involved. He’s given me judicial powers, so we can hold the trials here.”
He steepled his fingers, looked at both men in turn. “I’d like to conduct the capital crime trial tomorrow, followed by a court-martial the next day for Lieutenant Ness. Will that give you enough time to prepare, Captain?”
“Uh-yes, Sir. But shouldn’t this be handled by my replacement?”
Mayor Stroud smiled thinly. “There’ll be no replacement, Captain. General Smith agreed to allow me to decide whether you were relieved or not. Your actions since the unfortunate events lead me to believe you are the ideal officer to safeguard my town. You have any objections to staying in command?”
Captain Bell was now at attention in his chair. “No, Sir. One question, though. Will this be a civilian or military capital offense trial?”
“Neither, Captain. If I’m convinced of their guilt, the three offenders will be dealt with at my discretion. In this case, I’ll defer to the wishes of the Baie family. All I’ll do is ensure that whatever their punishment, it’s dealt with publicly.”
“May I ask why you decided to let the Baie’s become involved? I would have thought…”
“The reason they’re involved is because Mr. Baie made it plain if he’s not allowed justice for his daughter’s death, he’ll take matters into his own hands. Mr. Baie is the one person in town who could make it messy for all of us if he followed through on his promise. He retired from the Queensland Rangers ten years ago. His last three years with them was as a weapons instructor at their commando school.”
Jelnick twitched when the mayor mentioned Queensland. “Ah. He’s that Baie. Master Sergeant Baie. Always wondered where he’d disappeared to.”
Captain Bell turned to him. “You know him, Top?”
“Back when I was a Corporal I went to Queensland’s NCO Academy. Ran across Master Sergeant Baie then. Mayor, you tell him Corporal Jelnick will have those bastards tied up in a pretty bow knot for him, wherever and whenever he wants ’em.”
The Mayor smiled. “I think we should at least wait until after the trial, Sergeant. But yes, I’ll tell him.” He stood to signal the end of the meeting. “I hate to rush you, gentlemen, but we all have lots to do in the next twenty-four hours.”
As they shook hands Bell asked, “What about the baker? Our men couldn’t find him, and I hesitate to push for a search in the town. Tempers are too high as it is.”
“That is one detail you need not worry about, gentlemen. Mr. Baie and some of his associates are presently meeting with Mr. Grolier.”
Jelnick shivered when they left the office. “Almost feel sorry for the bastard.”
NEAR SPACE – STAR’S END SYSTEM (Day +28):
The superdreadnought Tolstoy, along with its escorts and the transports it guarded, had decelerated in-system for 28 hours. Both heavy cruisers had already taken up station within striking distance of the nexus that led to Alliance space. When word arrived of the incident at Star’s End, the task force was upgraded to include the Tolstoy and its escorts. That should give the Alliance second thoughts mused Commodore Givens, lounging in his command chair.
“Sir, update from Marston coming in,” the comm officer said.
“Route it to me, Tom. About time I patted her on the back for what she and Commander Worthington did.”
When Commander Fairing’s face came up on his tac screen, Givens smiled in genuine pleasure. “Hello, Lissa. Thanks for inviting us to your little party out here in the middle of nowhere.”
Her normally over-serious face broke into a grin. “Uncle Brad—uh—Commodore! I thought you were on the diplomatic run to Alliance space this year.”
“I was, until Commander Worthington’s message reached us at Alamo. We were drafted to escort the transports, and clean up any messes you youngsters made.”
Fairing’s smile turned grim. “If it wasn’t for Commander Worthington, it could’ve been a disaster. She tackled that light cruiser head-to-head and made it back off.”
“I’m afraid she’s going to find herself the toast of the town when she arrives back at Alamo. In case you haven’t been told, I want you to take over her duties, even though you haven’t the speed or cloaking abilities of the Argyle. Won’t need them with the rest of us on station.”
“Will do, Sir. We’ve established commo links with the LRS elements dirtside. Things have calmed down, although there are signs of a military build-up. Not enough hard intel to guess what’s going to happen next.”
“We’ll send an advance element down in a couple days,” the Commodore said. “The main landing will be right after that. Colonel Grayson will be the ground-side boss, with me as overall task force commander, but only in space.”
He rubbed his jaw in thought. “I don’t like the fact the Alliance has smuggled in hardware virtually unhindered for who knows how long. They’ve gotten access to some of the Terran Federation’s latest gadgetry for electronic counter-measures. That inventory of equipment you got from their moon base makes me think we may be in for some unpleasant surprises if we’re not careful.” He shrugged, and smiled. “In the meantime, I’ve brought twenty-four Wasps to the party with me. I’ll be sending two of them to you. That should bring your firepower back to a comfortable level, don’t you think?”
“Thanks, Sir. I’ve felt a distinct draft up my backside without them around.”
“From this point on, I want you in stationary orbit over the Stobol mines. Use line-of-sight lasers for commo as much as possible. Establish a working plan with the ground forces and Colonel Grayson for an orderly landing.”
“Aye aye, Sir. Marston out.”
STAR’S END, STOBOL MINING COMPLEX (DAY +29)
“Still no signs of any build-up, Sir,” Lieutenant Stanton said. The unhappy face of Captain Sanchez looked out of Stanton’s tac screen. This was the fourth call in two days from him. He was beginning to get a case of the jitters from his commander’s long-distance stewing since the planetary President had announced his intentions for an official greeting ceremony of the Orion Confederation task force due to land in a couple days.
“We’ve got two Wasps on call now from the Marston. I’ve had them sweep the region once every eight hours. Plus the satellites have us locked in to their surveillance web, and give us near real time data. I don’t think we need to worry, Sir.”
“I hope you’re right, Lieutenant. I’d have been out there yesterday, if the President didn’t want me in his hip pocket. By the way, has the militia’s commander worked the company into their defensive perimeter around the airfield? I suggested they use you as a reaction force, rather than just plug you into the line.”
Stanton smiled. “They did both, Sir. We’re on the southern edge of the airfield, where we can respond to either side of the airstrip if need be. We’re also acting as the eyes and ears for two companies of militia that overlap us. Other tha
n sending out daily patrols, we’ve had an easy time of it.”
“Sounds good,” said Sanchez. “Until I’m able to get there, we…”
The screen flipped, became jagged and went blank. Stanton sat up with a start. What the hell? Sergeant Nance came into his office, a worried look on his face. “Sir, all our comm just went offline. Can’t get anything from the satellite recon, either.”
“How about local commo?”
“Good close in, but spotty otherwise, Sir. We’ve been having difficulty with our remote sensor grid since we put it out last week. That means no eyes or ears beyond line-of-sight. Same’s true with the militia units either side of us.”
Stanton began to punch a new combination into his tactical computer. “Top, get the Platoon Leaders and Staff Sergeant Smith from Recon squad here ASAP. We need to get some people on the ground out there. I’ll try and get word to the Marston through whisker laser.”
Within minutes he had established voice-only contact with the Marston. “Ahoy, Marston. We’ve lost our satellite comm. Any idea what happened?”
“You’re coming in weak and broken, Lieutenant. Wait one, I’ll get the Captain.” Within seconds Commander Fairing was on the line. “Looks as if the recon and commo satellites have been burnt out by some electromagnetic surge, Jerry. There was a pulse beamed from the south continent at each satellite as they came over the horizon. Something else we haven’t identified is also interfering with laser comm.”
“I didn’t think that was possible,” Stanton said.
“We didn’t either. Seems the rebels have their hands on some new technology. Probably brought in by the Alliance, and illegally bought off the Terran Federation.” Just then, a roaring squeal covered whatever else Commander Fairing said.
“Damn,” Stanton said in disgust. “Now we have no communications.” He turned to the doorway when Nance and the platoon leaders entered, Franny close behind.
“We just got word from the Task Force HQ,” said Nance. “They’ve also lost all their commo. Want us to pull a recon.”
“Nance shook his head in resignation. “Okay, men, grab a chair. Looks like we’ve lost touch with the outside world. I don’t like operating blind. Franny, can you get your squad out on a recon ASAP?”
“Yes, Sir. We can be on the road in thirty minutes.”
“Good. I want you to scout the northern and western approaches out to six kilometers. I’d have you go further, but all our sensors have bitten the dust and I want to keep you close enough so we can see a flare or hear a grenade in case you get into trouble.”
“How can they interfere with our sensors, Sir?” Franny asked. “I thought they were secure.”
Stanton shrugged. “So did I. Sergeant First Class Nance and I’ll be looking into that problem while you’re gone. In the meantime, don’t count on any of your electronics working.” He turned to the platoon leaders. “Between the three of you, I need a couple squads to scout the southern and eastern sectors. Any problems with that?” There were head shakes. “Again, only send them out six klicks. Once we’ve swept the area we need four listening posts, out to one klick. Get some men on that right away.”
Nance lifted a hand. “Sir, I’ve got enough wire for them to string to the listening posts, so they have contact with us at all times.”
“Good idea, Top. Also, I don’t want Recon in the rotation for guard or listening post duty. They’ll be out patrolling all the time, only coming in to rest. I’ll be over at the task force HQ, like I’d originally planned. Captain Sanchez wants me to be there when he and the President’s party arrives. Sergeant First Class Nance will be in charge while I’m gone.” He gestured to the officers. “I realize one of you should normally be in command, but you have enough to do with your own platoons. So unless anyone has an objection? No? Then let’s get to it, gentlemen.”
Once everyone had left except Nance, Stanton began to pack his rucksack. “I’ll be over at the airfield for the duration, Top. You and I’ve both had our suspicions that someone over there is working for the other side. I’m sure of it now. The only way anyone could jam some of our secure equipment is if they had access to the frequencies and codes. Part of my time will be spent looking into who and how many.”
“We’ve got enough security here on the south end of the line to hold off two battalions, Sir. Plus one thing no one else knows. I strung wire from here to the artillery positions. We can call in arty support any time it’s needed. That also means if you need to call me on a secure line, just talk to the artillery NCOIC.”
Stanton shook his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Top. You keep your head down while I’m gone, y’hear?” With that, he was out the door.
* * *
“Double up on the grenades this time out, troops,” Franny said, clipping additional grenades to his vest. “Anyone have juice to their ghillies?”
“Nope, been out half an hour,” J.C. said. “Way I hear it, the fleet is gonna come in tonight and pick us up. That right, Sarge?”
“You wish,” Franny said. He slipped an extra knife into his boottop. “Listen up while you work. We’re going out to look for contact this time, so don’t stint on the ammo. One person per fire team will carry a grenade launcher rather than extra grenades or Webley. Everyone else packs needlers and a Webley. Take two days supply of rations. We’ll sweep north for six klicks, then to the west of here. Once done, we’ll take an hour’s break and do it again.”
Franny pulled out his ghillie suit and set it aside. “No ghillies this time. Whatever’s jamming the commo has knocked them off-line, too.”
He finished securing his gear and keyed his hand comp to display a map of the local area. “Gather ’round, I’ll show you the route. We’ll be heading out on a zero heading to about here.”
He pointed to the second ridgeline beyond their present location on the map. “A 275 degree heading from there for six klicks, then a 180 heading until we’re directly west of where we are now. Any questions?”
“If we’re moving abreast, who’ll secure our flanks?” Pointy asked.
“Good thought. You and Irish on the left, Roosevelt and Sutherland on the right, about 100 meters out. Brita and I will be just inward from you, and Brandy in the middle. Everyone, keep at least 25 meters between you and the next person. Our helmet maps work at the moment, so it should be simple to keep ourselves on line with each other. Let’s eat chow and be ready to move out ten minutes after that.”
Thirty minutes later, they were formed into two lines inside the west gate. At Franny’s signal they left the compound and walked rapidly until they were fifty meters into the woodline.
At that point they paused and formed a circle facing outwards, five meters between each of them. Total silence reigned for two minutes while each of them acclimated to the sounds of the forest as well as its smells.
Franny waved the flanking teams into place, and they moved north. As they gained the rhythm of the pace being set by Franny, the line shook itself out to the requisite 25 meters between each soldier. On the left flank, Ian and Pointy stayed within ten meters of each other, Pointy in the lead and Ian behind.
They moved slowly, placed each step with care. Rather than force their way through the undergrowth, they eeled their way around, over and under obstacles and through dense thickets of brush. Heads swiveled from side to side. Their helmets made them look like monstrous insects. Every fifteen minutes the signal would come to freeze in place, and they would listen for one minute.
Three hours later they topped out on the first ridge line, halfway to the first check point. Ian started to have trouble with his helmet ’tronics, a static squeal every thirty seconds.
“Take ten, everyone,” Franny whispered over their helmet comms. “Roosevelt, how’s your flank looking?”
“No sweat, Franny. Quiet walk in the park, so far.”
Just then Ian’s visor flickered, and the squealing redoubled its intensity. “Franny, it’s Irish. You getting any interf
erence on your helmet? Mine’s acting up, both vid and sound.”
“Mine too,” Pointy said. “Just got a lot louder for a second, then faded again.”
“On my way,” Franny said. Seconds later he was next to Ian and Pointy. “I see what you mean. Seems to have about a 30 second cycle to it.” He listened another minute.
“Brita, you hear any squelches on your helmet com?”
“No. At least no worse than when we left the mine site. I suggest we move east a couple hundred meters and talk this over. I’ve got a hunch what you’re hearing.”
“You heard her, everyone up and settle in 200 meters east. Roosevelt, find a good place for us. Now move out.”
Ten minutes later a defensive circle was set up. Even without ghillies it was difficult to locate anyone’s position. Ian and Pointy were huddled with Franny and Brita.
“Nothing now, Sergeant,” Ian said. “Seemed to fade out after 100 meters.”
“I don’t like things happening around me I don’t understand,” Franny said.
“I’ve heard something like this before,” Brita said. “I think the gooners might’ve set up an array of sensors. Normally you wouldn’t know they were around, but the electromagnetic jamming might be from them.”
“I didn’t know that was possible,” Franny said. “You think this is some advanced electronics we’ve heard so much about from the Terran Federation?” He flipped up his faceplate long enough for a quick gulp of water from his canteen. “If it is, we need to get our hands on it.”
“Irish, Pointy and I can get it for you,” Brita said. “It’ll cost you a tall frosted one at the next pub we run across, though.”
“Done,” Franny said. “You’ve got until 2200 hours to be back here.”
“Wilco, Sergeant.” Brita signalled Pointy and Ian to follow her.
Once away from the rest of the squad, they stopped within touching distance of each other.