by Danny Loomis
“Give him some water, lubricate his throat. It’s been awhile since he’s had anything orally.”
Deep voice, sounded older. No other noise was noticeable. A hand on the back of his head helped him tilt forward. A straw was placed in his mouth, and he greedily sucked the cool fluid.
“Not too much at first. Don’t want to overwork his stomach just yet,” the deep voice said.
Ian coughed, tried to speak again. “Where-how long…”
The deep voice chuckled. “One question at a time, young man. You’re aboard the superdreadnought Tolstoy, in her sick bay. Been here for three days now. And before you ask, your head and eyes are bandaged. Had to replace both corneas. Plus you have a piece of bone missing from the right front portion of your skull.”
Ian cleared his throat and managed a raspy whisper. “Three days? What about my squad? Pointy?”
“Pointy? Oh, you must mean Philip Winters, the man who saved your life. Did a first-rate job keeping you alive until we got you into a regen tank. By the way, I’m Doctor Martins.” “Why am I still in a regen tank? I thought they worked pretty fast.”
“Usually that’s true. In your case, however, you received more extensive injuries than we normally get up here.”
“How extensive?” Ian asked, lethargy stealing over him.
“You sure you want to know?” Dr. Martins asked. A wordless nod was his answer. “Major trauma to small and large intestine, calling for total replacement. Liver and spleen ruptured, and being replaced. Takes a bit longer for those organs to regenerate. Both eyes burnt, corneal replacements needed. Skull fractured in three places, calling for a bone replacement on the right front portion of your skull. We wouldn’t have awakened you for another week, but we needed to find out something from you. Are you planning on making the military a career?”
Ian was astonished at the question. “Ye-yes, I think so, Sir.”
“Good.” Did that sound like a note of satisfaction in the Doctor’s voice? “In that case, I need your permission to put a bio link in your skull instead of an ordinary bone graft.”
Ian was overwhelmed. A bio link would enable him to receive feedback from his helmet link directly into his brain. It greatly enhanced the capabilities of the normal human to uplink with computers and communications, the gathering of data, and much more. Because of the expense, the operation was usually not done to members of the military unless they were a pilot or at least an officer of field grade rank.
“Why me?”
“You’ve got friends in high places. Your Regimental commander, Colonel Grayson, ordered it.”
“In that case, I’d better get it done. You don’t wanna piss off Mad Mike.” Stifled laughter could be heard from several people.
“Okay, son. I’m going to put you back under for awhile. Next time you wake up, you’ll be a new man. Literally.”
“Thanks, Doc. You sure you don’t know what happened to the rest of my squad?”
After a moments hesitation, Doctor Martins said “Besides Pointy, who were those closest to you?”
“Sergeant Weiss was our team leader. Then there’s J.C.-Jesus Romero, and Blade-Joe Chavez. I guess you could say we’re close. Tend to live in each others’ pockets, especially on missions.”
“None of your fire team were listed as dead, and only two others were bad enough to be sent to the ship. They’ll both be up and about by next week.” Ian heard paper crackling, and Dr. Martins cleared his throat. “It seems three of the squad did in fact die. A Sergeant Roosevelt, Corporal Lewis and Sergeant Deems.”
Ian felt memories return from just before he was hit. “Yeah, those were the guys to the north of us. Must’ve run out of luck.” He felt a heavy drowsiness creep into his mind and body.
“That’s enough talk for now. Go back to sleep,” Doctor Martins said.
Even as a deep regret formed in his mind over the squad’s losses, Ian slid back into the comfort of sleep.
STAR’S END, RICHLAND (Day +33):
Senator Deville sat at his desk, and patiently waited for a secure communications link to patch through to the Sons of Freedom headquarters. He’d sent his staff on an extended lunch break, allowing him time to privately settle this particular business before they returned.
The screen cleared, showing Major DeVries, Colonel Racine and Captain Vogel seated at a small conference table. “Senator, good to see you again,” Colonel Racine said.
“Likewise, Henry. Our time is short, so let’s get to business, gentlemen.”
Colonel Racine cleared his throat, looking at the screen of his hand comp. “Our losses in trained troops were not as high as first estimated, Sir. We lost eight hundred in the attack, but they were mostly the newest recruits. Our field commanders saw fit to send them in first to draw fire, prior to the more seasoned troops being committed.”
Senator Deville shrugged. “What difference does that make? This is a setback in our plans, especially for obtaining new recruits. Conventional military attacks are no longer possible, are they?”
Major DeVries leaned forward and bared his steel teeth in a smile. “That is true, Senator. However, we’ve come up with another plan, using the forces still at our disposal. This is, in fact, the plan I suggested at the first.”
“Do you mean using the forces in small units scattered over the entire western seaboard? I thought we did that, Major.”
“Only to a limited degree. It was decided by you and Colonel Racine to use a more conventional approach. That, unfortunately, hasn’t worked.”
Senator Deville frowned in thought. “Colonel Racine, what are your thoughts about this?”
“I disagree in principle with the use of small units on such a large scale, because of the loss of control. My strongest objection, however, is that this new plan involves using these small groups in terrorist type tactics. We must not set our own people against us, Senator. We run the risk of alienating the very people we wish to help, especially if we’re tied to any atrocities.”
Deville cocked an eyebrow. “Since you’ve apparently come up with some sort of plan, you must have found a way to counteract that, Colonel.”
“Yes, Sir. If a list of targets was developed by you, we could send out troops to attack only those targets. Once finished, they would report back and be assigned a new target. When the government troops move into those areas, we could have those particular groups disband until called on.” He shook his head grimly. “I am still reluctant to do this, but will follow your wishes.”
Deville tapped a finger on his chin. “Major DeVries, what is your opinion?”
“I feel a protracted struggle of this type has a larger chance of success than you might think. Every small attack would put one more pin-prick into the skin of the giant. Enough pin-pricks, and even a giant will crumble. In this case, the government will soon become unstable enough for you to have a good chance to gain a political victory.”
“I see your point,” the Senator said. He hesitated another moment, then nodded. “Let’s try it. I’ll have a list to you by tomorrow, Colonel. There will be several dozen locations. How many teams do you think you can form?”
Colonel Racine tugged at his earlobe and looked at a print-out. “We plan to have twelve cells formed, with anywhere from four to ten sub-cells operating out of each one. This would be dependent on the number of targets designated in each zone of responsibility. We’ll have two hundred veterans to draw from, so manpower shouldn’t be a problem, at least for the first year. After that, we’ll have to replace losses.”
The Senator smiled. “Within a year, we will be able to disband our forces. I have a plan of my own to put into play once I’m back in Phoenix, which will be in just a few days. A special session of the World Congress will begin next week.”
“One suggestion,” DeVries said. “Once we’ve set in motion the military portion of this plan, I’ll hold my men as a reserve for Colonel Racine to use if needed. Other than that, we’ll continue to train your soldiers. Also,
I will travel to the south continent to gather up the training cadre and weaponry you paid for. May I use Camp Three as a temporary base until I can transship them here?” Camp Three was one of the Dupont Corporation’s processing plants, also used by the rebels as an alternate headquarters.
“I don’t think there’s a problem with that. Colonel Racine?” The Colonel shrugged, and nodded agreement.
“Good,” Deville said. “Any other questions? Then I’ll contact you again after the World Congress has adjourned, which could be two or three months.”
DeVries watched the Senator’s face fade from the screen, then turned to the Colonel. “Sir, Captain Vogel and I will be at your disposal. I’m sure you and your officers don’t need our help to organize your cells and teams, but if you do, let us know. Until then, we’ll just get out of your hair.”
Racine smiled in pleased surprise. “Why, thank you, Major. We’ll be forming up teams for the next few days. It’s already been decided where the locations of the cells will be. We’ll undoubtedly need your training expertise after we see how the first few missions go. Probably send your men to those units needing experienced cadre.” With that, the Colonel gave a nod and left.
DeVries turned to Vogel. “Stan, I want you to be in charge of all our troops on this continent. I’m going to get the rest of our forces in the south shaken out into some kind of fighting order. I’ll be sending at least a company’s worth to you, mainly as a front for the Colonel. Tell him they’re the special trainers.”
“What about our troops who’re already here?” Captain Vogel asked.
The Major smiled. “Use them any way you see fit. I would suggest the removal of as many leaders as possible, both political and military. This would have a major impact here in the west. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Sir, I do. But what about Orion Confederation soldiers?”
“Tell the men their number one target is Confederation troops. For every confirmed kill, five hundred Deutschmarks bonus. For every officer, one thousand.”
Vogel’s smile was that of a predator on the scent. Not only would he be able to exact some revenge for the loss of his team, but to be rewarded was icing on the cake. “Since I plan on being very active in this, I have a personal question, Sir. Where, exactly, are you going to get the fifty thousand Deutschmarks you are going to be paying me?”
DeVries nodded in satisfaction. Having Vogel active as a sniper again would be a wonderful thing to see. “From the Senator’s nest egg he has hidden on the south continent. When I get there my first job will be to, shall we say, ‘appropriate’ it, and put it to good use.” He slapped Vogel on the shoulder. “Besides, Stan, don’t think small. I plan on doubling the bonus for any kills you personally make. Oh, one other point. I’ll leave an attack shuttle with near space capabilities in your hands. Hide it well, my friend, and use it if things go sour. Hopefully it will never come to that, but you never know.”
Vogel left, mind already busily dividing the forty Alliance soldiers into sniper teams.
DeVries watched him go, a sad smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Such an excellent soldier. He knew the chances of Vogel admitting defeat were vanishingly small. Once he was on the scent, he was better than any bloodhound alive. Odds were good he’d go on one mission too many.
He gave himself a mental shake and hurried on his own errands. First, there were preparations for departure to the south continent. Then, most importantly, ensure Project Valhalla was in place and ready to be activated if all else failed…
NEAR SPACE, SUPERDREADNOUGHT TOLSTOY (Day +38):
Ian looked in the mirror a nurse placed on top of the regen chamber, and marveled at his looks. He also marveled at the fact he could see. After being blinded by the grenade’s blast his mind had trouble accepting the fact he’d see again, even with the doctor’s assurances. Now if he could just get out of this tank. His stomach growled, complaining of its emptiness.
“Well, that sounds normal,” a husky contralto said from the door. Ian flinched, almost dropped the mirror. He attempted to turn over, but was still held in stasis from the chest down.
“Who–hey, is that you, Brita? You sound different.”
Brita moved into his field of vision, a large smile on her face. “You’d sound different too if your voice box was shot out.” She fingered a pink vertical line on her throat. “That, plus a broken pelvis from a 10 mm round got me sent up here. I’m going back to the surface to join up with the platoon in a few minutes.”
“It’s good to see you, Brita.” Ian blinked back unexpected moisture in his eyes. “It’s good to be able to see anyone.”
She looked at him closely, and chuckled. “Your eyes, they’re blue. You used to have washed-out grey, now they’re blue. Quite an improvement, Irish. They also got rid of those scars on the side of your face. Makes you look your age for a change.”
Ian touched the left side of his face, and blushed. Being shaved bald made it worse, as even the top of his head turned bright red. Brita giggled, the first time he’d heard that sound from her.
“Oh, man, Irish. You’ve got to quit blushing like that, unless you want the women fighting over you when we get back to Alamo.”
Without thinking, Ian blurted “Would you be one of them?”
Brita sobered, took a step closer to him. “Irish, if we weren’t in the same unit…” She turned away for a moment, then back. “Goddamnit, Irish, you sure know how to screw things up! Do me a favor, will you? Forget you asked that. And especially forget what I said. Please?” She looked so intent, so serious.
“Tell you what, Brita. You give me a goodbye kiss, I’ll forget you were here.” Now she was the one to turn red, to the roots of her inch-long blonde hair.
After a moment’s hesitation she said, “All right, but you’ve got to agree this is as far as it goes. Okay?”
“Fine with me,” Ian said, heart beginning to hammer.
She bent down, grabbed both his ears and ground her mouth onto his, forcing it open so their tongues twined.
When he opened his eyes, she was moving toward the door, but paused a moment. “Before you kiss anyone else, you’d better do something about that bad case of hospital breath, Irish.” She made a face, and was gone.
Ian was still breathless when the nurse charged into his room, a concerned look on her face. “What’s going on? Your monitors just went off the chart.” She opened a small lid on the top of the regeneration tank he was still in, and peered at the display screen. “Ah! So that’s what happened. You got yourself a nice erection. A good sign, Corporal. I’ve got to tell the doctor.” She hurried out, leaving Ian even more embarrassed than before.
Just then, Pointy breezed into the room, wearing a white smock coat. “And how is the patient today?”
“Pointy! Am I glad to see you. I didn’t know you were wounded. What happened?”
“Naw, I got off scot free. I was on the other side of you, so the shrapnel got you instead of me. I just hitched a ride up on one of the supply shuttles. Franny was bellyachin’ about specialized repair parts for the ghillies and helmets, so I volunteered to kind of, well, you know, do a special requisition of parts, along with pickin’ up Sergeant Weiss.”
Ian laughed. “Sounds as if things are back to normal. What’s with the white coat?”
“It’s the only way I could get to this part of the ship. If you wear the proper uniform, you can go anywhere you want. And yeah, we’re as back to normal as it can be. We’re pullin’ one patrol, then 48 hours off. Another patrol, another 48. Etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseam.”
“What happened down there? No one’s told me anything since I woke up.”
Pointy snagged a chair with his foot and pulled it close to the bed. “After you tried to play hero with that grenade, I drug you back to the mine. Sergeant Nance took pity and allowed his medic to work on you, until the first shuttles landed from the fleet.”
“How’d the battle go?” Ian asked.
“Lieutenant
Stanton was over at the airfield when some of the militia officers sold out their people and tricked a couple of the defendin’ units to withdraw just before the attack. The Lieutenant killed all the saboteurs, and got the artillery to move over to the hole in the line. They blasted shit out of the gooners when they tried overrunnin’ ’em.”
“So now what?”
“Now, we’re goin’ out on search-and-destroy missions. We’re bein’ used to spot enemy forces and either call in artillery, or have a couple Wasps shit all over their picnic. It’s gettin’ crowded around the airfield with the task force on the ground, and they’re bein’ farmed out to help the militia on road blocks and security missions. Not sure how long we’re gonna do this, but in the meantime there’s a big push to get the militia trained up to acceptable levels.”
Just then the nurse and doctor Martins entered. “Oops, looks like it’s time for me to go, guy. See ya soon, I hope.” With that, Pointy hurried out the door before he could be stopped by the harried looking nurse.
“Who was that?” Doctor Martins asked.
“Just a friend checking up on me,” Ian said, laying his head back with a smile.
“You do look better,” the Doctor said, checking his vital signs which were displayed on the top of the regeneration tank. “In fact, I think we can go ahead and begin to familiarize you with your new capabilities.” He motioned to the nurse, who produced a helmet. “This is your new helmet, since you seem to have gotten the other blown off your head. Please take better care of this one since it costs five times more than its predecessor.”
Ian blinked. “Wow. What’d you do to this one, Doc? Put gold lining in it?”
“You’re pretty close. Under the padding is a layer of palladium-gold alloy to allow a gravitic wave to interact with the bio implant. Your helmet has its normal tactical displays and functions, but now it can also tap into any sensor system being used by your units. All the way up to regimental and higher.”
Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That means I can tie directly into satellite comms.”