by Danny Loomis
Within minutes Brita’s fire team, minus J.C., was airborne. She cocked her head to a call on the command frequency, and turned to the rest. “Just got word from Williams. He’s within sight of the thermal mine shaft, and thinks the bad guys got there before him. He’s moving in. We’re a minute out. Be ready for anything, troops.”
The flitter jinked violently, avoiding a missile. “Landing now,” the pilot said, and literally bounced the flitter on the ground one hundred meters from the shaft. Brita and Pointy sprinted left, while Ian and Blade dashed right. Both groups sleeted the low brush to either side of the tunnel entrance with needler fire to suppress any further enemy activity.
Once behind cover, both fire teams leapfrogged, one group at a time, towards the tunnel’s entrance. Brita and Pointy were first through the entrance, followed seconds later by Ian and Blade. Even with night sights built into their helmets it was dim inside. The sounds of a fire fight echoed in the darkness ahead. Four bodies littered the floor, one of their own locked in death with Alliance commandos surrounding him.
“Easy, troops. Remember your house-to-house training. Same principle here,” Brita said. She held up a hand, checked their advance. “Williams is in trouble. He’s being hit from two sides. Let’s go.” They sprinted to the first turn in the corridor. Pointy threw himself flat and peered around the corner.
“Clear,” he hissed. Up and running again. The sounds of battle were louder, nearer. At the next turn Pointy did the same maneuver, but this time recoiled. “Three gooners, ten meters. Backs to us.”
Brita began rapping out orders. “Pointy and Ian. On three, you rush ’em. Keep on going through, to the next turn. Blade and I’ll clean up behind you if it’s needed. One, two, three!” Ian lunged forward, needler screaming on full auto. He sprinted past the crumpled bodies, with Pointy a step behind.
At the next turn, Ian threw himself to the ground and peeked around the corner from worm’s height. “Two of them. Williams’ squad is just beyond.”
Before he could say more Brita was around the corner, needler spitting death. By the time the rest of them were able to react, both Alliance commandos were dead.
“Willie, It’s Brita. We’ve cleared out the crap behind you. How’re you doing?”
“Brita? C’mon in. It’s quiet to our front for the moment,” SSG Williams said.
Following Brita into the next chamber, Ian was shocked at the lack of cover Williams and his squad had been fighting from. Two still forms, Lipscombe and Hardesty, were being used as shields by two of the others. Williams had drawn himself into a blood-soaked corner. Brita went to her knees beside him and reached for her first aid packet.
“Stomach wound,” Williams said. “I should be all right for a little while longer. You’d best get everyone moving. I don’t think you have much time left to stop them if what you told me is true.”
Brita came to her feet. “Irish, how many left?”
“Six gooners. And six of us who’re not wounded.”
“We’ll make it in one big push,” she said. “We’re only about another fifty meters from the thermal shaft. The bomb should be there. Ian, Pointy, you take the lead. I want you to run flat out until you’re in the chamber. If you two don’t make it, Blade and—let’s see—Sergeant Carrows, you two will be up next. The rest of us will take care of any ash and trash that tries to get you from the sides. Ready? Go!”
Ian was around the bend running full speed, totally focused. Pointy was on his left, a rictus of a grin pulling his lips back. They flashed by two defenders who managed to gape at them before they were past. The snarl of needlers could be heard behind. Abruptly they were in the large chamber from where the thermal shaft dove more than twenty-five kilometers straight down into the earth. A gleaming metallic ovoid was cradled over the shaft, panel open on its side. Two men worked feverishly on it.
Still at full tilt, Pointy and Ian crashed into them. Ian kept a grip on the soldier he’d tackled, managed to spin him around and into the shaft opening. He had a split second’s eye contact before his assailant disappeared.
He tried to scramble back, and two more bodies flailed over him into the shaft. Pointy and the soldier he’d tackled. Both disappeared without a sound.
“Oh, God! Pointy!” Ian was on his hands and knees staring into the blackness of the shaft when he felt his feet being lifted. He managed to wrap an arm around one of the braces just before he was overbalanced into the hole. He looked back and saw the scowling face of an Alliance commando. An arm snaked around the soldier’s neck, jerked him backwards. Relieved, Ian scrambled out of the shaft in time to watch the spectacle of Brita in a fight with an opponent fifty pounds heavier.
Brita’s back kick glanced from the larger man’s shoulder, staggering him. Going with the force of the blow, he dropped and spun with one leg outthrust. Brita skipped back in time to avoid a broken ankle and launched a jumping front kick to the man’s face when he gained his feet. He tried to turn with it, but caught the full brunt of her foot on his nose. He shook his head, blood flying. He backed up to get room, flattened nose and split lips drooling blood down the front of his uniform.
Ian was awe-struck by the action. He’d never seen such deadly intent between two masters of hand-to-hand before. The commando’s entire stance and expression was concentrated on Brita, his every move one of fluid grace. Brita looked the part of a Valkyrie at this moment. The fire of battle emanated from her eyes as she circled the man.
Brita slipped in a pool of blood and faltered for a split second. Like a striking cobra the man leaped forward with a powerful side kick. Brita spun and caught the man’s leg in a scissors hold with both of hers. The impetus of his charge carried him over her. She clamped her legs together and reversed her spin. The man’s scream was not loud enough to cover the sickening crack of a leg that broke at the knee.
Brita rose to her feet and came over to Ian. “You all right?” she asked, putting a hand on his cheek. He covered it with his.
“You bet. And thanks.”
Her eyes melted into his and she smiled tremulously. “Thought I’d lost you that time.”
“I would’ve been, if not for you. Pointy…” He felt the anguish wash over him. “Pointy fell in the shaft.”
“I saw,” she said. “We got the rest of them, but Pointy had too much speed when he hit his guy. Both went over.”
“Oh, hell,” Ian said, tears forming. “He was like a brother. I owed him so much.”
“Yeah even I liked the little weasel,” Brita said, misting up.
A disembodied voice rose from the shaft. “Hey, glad to hear it, Mom! That mean I get a week-end pass when we get home?”
“Pointy? What the hell,” Ian said, a foolish grin stealing across his face.
“Yup, none other. There’s a grill down here we all fell on. Think it’s the bottom of the cage the bomb’s in. The other two guys are okay, but kinda busted up. I seem to’ve landed on ’em.”
“You goddamned jerk,” Brita said. “Can’t you even die a decent death?”
By the time Pointy and the two commandos had been taken out of the shaft, a company of regulars had arrived, along with a bomb disposal team. With exquisite care the triggering device was removed from the bomb. The Lieutenant in charge wrapped the trigger in a large towel. “It was set up as an impact fuse. It would have to drop to the bottom of that shaft before it exploded.”
Just then there was a loud CLACK, and the cage holding the bomb dropped from view. Everyone jumped except the Lieutenant, who swallowed and took a deep breath while his face turned white. “Yep. Just what I would’ve done. Put a timer on the elevator cage. Jesus, didn’t even think to check that!”
Ian leaned back against the wall of the cave and let a sigh of relief escape. It was over. Finally, he could relax. He slid to the floor, let the overflow of data from all electronic sources wash over him, numb his brain, splinter it. From a distance, he heard his name being called. Not now. Time to rest.
STAR�
�S END: STOBOL AIRFIELD (Day +76):
Ian tried to hold still when the needle entered his skull. Dr. Martins had assured him there was no danger in this procedure, but poking a needle a centimeter inside his head made him more than a little nervous. “Hold still, damnit,” Dr. Martins grunted. “Ah—just about—There.” He slowly withdrew the needle.
“You sure this’ll do the trick, Doc?” Ian asked, gently rubbing his head.
“Of course I’m sure. I helped develop these bio links, you know.” He’d just injected specially constructed nano-meds into the bio link, to help dissolve the thin filaments it had sprouted and pushed into Ian’s brain.
“You’re a lucky man, Ian. Only about one in a million has this positive a reaction to bio links.” He double checked the diagnostics hooked to Ian, and nodded his satisfaction.
“You should feel the connection begin to ease in about an hour. It’ll be back to a normal bio link by tomorrow. I’ll give you a final check before they release you.” He bustled out of the room. Ian rubbed his head again. One in a million? Lucky? Bullshit!
Pointy stuck his head through the doorway. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Bionic Man? You sure missed a heck of an awards ceremony. Wasn’t a dry eye on the field when President Martinez pinned the Star of Valor on our regimental flag.” He strolled in and leaned on the tent’s center post.
Ian rubbed his forehead one last time. “Sounds like you had a good time. Doc said I’d be back to normal by tomorrow.”
“Haw. That’s a good one. You a normal person? Not in this lifetime. By the way, in case you didn’t hear, Boudreau was made Warrant Officer. He’s now our official platoon leader.”
“No kidding? I thought he was death on becoming an officer.”
“That’s why he went Warrant, dummy. That’s not all the news, though. They also promoted Franny and Brita.”
Ian smiled in delight. “That is good news. Did they make Franny our Platoon Sergeant?”
“Yup. And Brita’s our new squad leader. How’s that for upward mobility?”
Ian made a face. “I suppose that means they’ll bring Sergeant McLeod over from Williams’ squad. He’s even meaner than Brita.”
“Nope, someone even worse. I’m not supposed to spread rumors about this, but Top, I mean Warrant Officer Boudreau, let slip you’d be our team leader.”
Ian shook his head. “I’m not due to make Sergeant for at least another year.”
“I know for sure that’s wrong,” Pointy said. “They were gonna promote you this mornin’ at the ceremony, but Mad Mike said he wanted to pin the stripes on you himself, so you’ll have to wait ’til he’s up to it. Which means you’ll get ’em pinned on back at Alamo. Oh, and don’t tell anyone I told you this stuff, it’s supposed to be a big surprise.”
Ian chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you’ve gone off your rocker. Speaking of which, where are you going to spend your forty-five days of leave we’ve got coming?”
“Goin’ back home for awhile. The old man finally decided to forgive me for joinin’ the army, accordin’ to mom. If you’re at loose ends, why don’t you come with me?”
“Thanks, Pointy. I might take you up on that.”
With a wave, Pointy was gone.
Ian settled back and thought about Pointy’s offer. Did he have anywhere he wanted to go? Might be time enough to go home and visit his folks on Eire. Hadn’t seen them since he was sixteen. The government there couldn’t keep him out now. He was a member of the Confederation military, and a citizen of New Britain, the capitol world of the Confederation itself. Ian drifted into sleep, while making his plans.
STAR’S END: PHOENIX (Day +85):
Senator Deville was surprised to find President Martinez in. For the past week there had been so many committees and functions it had been nearly impossible to get an appointment.
“Good morning, Mister President. Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”
“No problem, Jean.” He gestured toward the side bar. “You wish anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“Thank you, Sir,” he said, helping himself to a cup of coffee. “I just got word about the official apology from the Alliance.”
Martinez gestured for him to sit, and walked behind his desk to pick up several documents. “Yes, and it was everything we hoped it would be. They agreed to pay reparations to the survivors of the families attacked by their men, as well as drop all claims to the light cruiser. Blamed it all on members of the military who ‘exceeded their authority’, and how it was all just a big misunderstanding.”
Senator Deville smiled in pleasure. “That’s good, Sir. Even more than we expected. It should help in our unification efforts, which brings me to why I wanted to meet with you. Would you consider coming out to Richland next month and being the Grand Marshal in the Fall Festival parade?”
“Of course, Jean. I’ll get with my secretary after our meeting and make sure it’s put on my calendar.” He shuffled papers a moment, and looked up. “I had an ulterior motive in having you over today. The Confederation passed on some interesting documents they found at the rebel headquarters.” He handed them to Senator Deville, an expectant look on his face. Jean’s heart sank as he read through them. Damn! Colonel Racine had kept track of things too closely.
“Is it true? Were you the moving force behind this rebellion?” President Martinez asked in a flat voice.
Jean tiredly rubbed his eyes. “Yes I was, Mister President. And still would be if it wasn’t for two things. The stupidity of the Alliance, and the committee you have me chairing. That group is accomplishing what you wanted it to do. We’re close to agreement on several items that have been sore points with us westerners for years.”
“That means you were also responsible for the, shall we say, ‘discovery’ of where the diamonds had been hidden by the rebels,” the President said.
“Yes, except for those taken by the last of the Alliance forces who escaped our planet.”
“I was very angry when these reports first came in,” the President said. “But after weighing what you were doing to achieve unification against what you’d done, plus your return of the diamonds, I decided to ignore the past. I may not like you for what you did, but I respect you for what you’re now doing.” He offered senator Deville his hand.
“Thank you, Mister President,” he said, taking his hand. “I’m overwhelmed.”
“Just keep up the good work, Jean, and I’ll be satisfied.”
Jean left the President’s office and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d won! The last hurdle was out of his way. With Presidential elections a year away, he had time to build his reputation as the “Great Hope” for unification between east and west. Already he had gained support in the east for his efforts. That, plus the thirty million credits worth of diamonds he’d kept, would fund his election bid quite nicely.
His personal secretary looked up as he entered his office. “Back so soon, sir? I thought you’d be much longer with the President. May I introduce your new security chief? This is Mister Franklin Baie, from Mt. Laurier.”
Jean noted the intentness of Franklin’s expression when they shook hands. “Have we met before, Mister Baie?”
“No, sir. I’ve been a member of your political party for quite some time, and am honored to be able to serve you. Colonel Racine and I had a talk some time ago, and he suggested I apply for this position when it came open.”
“Ah, excellent. And how is the Colonel enjoying prison life these days?”
“Not well, sir. In fact he was found dead in his cell last week. Looked like suicide. Most unfortunate.”
“How terrible,” Jean said. “But I suppose he couldn’t live with what he’d done. Too bad.” Shaking his head, the Senator entered his inner office.
Franklin Baie stared after the Senator, and seated himself outside his door. Yes, he thought, Racine and I discussed you, and your role in this little rebellion. Now he had Michelle’s real killer in hand. The time would come for justi
ce. He smiled for the first time in weeks.
HANOVER, CAPITOL OF DEUTSCHLAND (Day +105):
First Secretariat Karl Richter was angry. Not just angry; furious. He closed the folder he’d been given with a snap to interrupt Victor’s briefing.
“Why was a thermonuclear device planted on Star’s End? And who gave the order to put it there?”
Victor, normally unshakable, paled and sat down. He’d never seen his chief so infuriated. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that one, Sir. My apologies.”
Grand Admiral Trapp cleared his throat. “I organized its shipping. Thought it would be the perfect way to bring the planet to heel. Knock out half of their economy.”
Karl visibly struggled with his temper for several seconds, until he could trust himself to speak, “Admiral, you placed the one device on their world that could undeniably link us to this fiasco. Now, we’ve had to make reparations for damages. Worst of all, it has hurt our clandestine trade with the Terran Federation. They no longer wish to deal with, and I quote, ‘bandits and thugs’ since we might turn on them next.”
The Admiral stared at Karl, no give to him. “The only mistake is it didn’t go off.”
“Yes, Admiral, it was a mistake,” Karl said. “One you will pay for. Get out of my sight.”
The room chilled. Grand Admiral Trapp stood, and marched to the door. He turned to give a parting shot, but swallowed his words when he saw the look on the First Secretariat’s face. He stalked out, slamming the door.
“Victor, take care of that problem for me, will you?” Karl asked. Victor nodded, and whispered into his lapel mike. “Done, sir. Major Vogel will handle the situation.” The Grand Admiral’s death was now assured.
“I think we’d better finish this meeting at another time,” Karl said. “Please leave.”
After everyone left, Karl stood and looked out his window, too wrapped in thought to see the beautiful day outside. A defeat. Even though it was small, it was a defeat. He couldn’t be made to look weak again, not for a long time.