by John Bowers
Pinned down in a bell tower
Targets became scarce for a while. Nick watched and waited, ducking occasional shots aimed at the bell tower, but only scored three more hits.
Sometime in early afternoon another armored vehicle crawled out of the pass and stopped at the edge of town facing him. An open turret on top of the vehicle sported a heavy machine gun that looked big enough to bring down a star destroyer. Nick killed the driver before the vehicle could move any closer, but before he could get an angle on the turret the heavy gun opened up. It was aimed straight at him.
BONG-ONG-ONG-ONG-ONG-ONG-ONG!
Heavy steel slugs hammered the bell in a steady stream—
“Ungh!”
Nick felt a sharp, penetrating pain as a ricochet punched through his lower back. He gasped in shock and hit the floor, agony washing over him. For a moment he lay helpless, numb with fear, as the wooden skirt above him began to disintegrate. Wood splinters flew in all directions, one of them opening his cheek, but his real problem was the bullet in his back. He wondered if this was it—
By John Bowers
Published by AKW Books
THE FIGHTER QUEEN SAGA
The Fighter King
A Vow to Sophia
The Fighter Queen
Star Marine
The Sword of Sophia
NICK WALKER, U.F. MARSHAL
Asteroid Outpost
Sirian Summer
Rebel Guns of Alpha Centauri
Bounty Hunter at Binary Flats*
JOSEPH LEXXUS (for mid-grade readers)
Joseph Lexxus and the Drug Runners of Altair
OTHER BOOKS
Starport
Guerrilla Girl
Famine Planet
Prisoners of Eroak
Occupy Eroak!
*Coming soon
Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal
Rebel Guns of Alpha Centauri
John Bowers
AKW Books
Washington
An
AKW Books eBook
Published by Kalar/Wade Media
Copyright 2012 by John Bowers
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by AKW Books, an imprint of Kalar/Wade Media, LLC, Washington.
You are granted a non-exclusive license to this work. You may make copies or reformat it for YOUR OWN USE ONLY. You may not resell, trade, nor give this work away.
Created in the United States of America
First Publication: January 2012
Cover design & composition: Ravven
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters are a product of the imagination of the author and any resemblance to any real person, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.
The name “AKW Books” and the AKW logo are trademarks belonging to Kalar/Wade Media, LLC
For my grandmother, Parthena Belle Standridge, 1899-1955.
Thanks for the cool name, Grandma. I still miss you.
Prolog
Wednesday, 19 November, 0436 - Trimmer Springs, Alpha Centauri 2
(8 years ago)
The Star Marines had been shot all to hell. Only a hundred thirteen men were still alive in Echo Company and some of those were wounded.
Nick Walker lay on the deck of the hover transport with shell fragments in his back, blood leaking from under his vest. Pvt. Kopshevar sat on one side of him, Sgt. DuBose on the other. The transport was only half full—nearly half the battalion had been lost to Coalition artillery in the heaviest barrage Nick had ever experienced. If their ride hadn’t come when it did, no one would have survived.
“Where they taking us?” Nick mumbled, feeling weaker than he had in years.
“Who gives a shit?” Kopshevar said. “Anywhere is better than where we were.”
Nick closed his eyes, grimacing against the pain. “I’d like to know where the hell the rebels got that kind of hardware. They’re farmers, for god’s sake!”
“Stop talking, Private,” Sgt. DuBose said. “Save your strength.”
Nick grimaced. “That’s Private first class to you, Sergeant.”
DuBose laughed. “I’ll put that on your headstone. How you feeling?”
“Like a pin cushion.”
“If it helps any, I don’t think you’re hurt that bad. I don’t see more than five or six gallons of blood on the deck.”
“Well, shit, I feel better already.”
“There’s a couple of corpsmen in the other transports. Soon as we land I’ll get one of them to look you over.”
Nick closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t feel like talking any more.
If they thought they were being evacuated, they were wrong. The transports settled down in a small mountain town on a narrow plateau overlooking the Trimmer Plain. As the Star Marines disembarked, the transports lifted off again and soared away to the west.
Nick looked around, surprised at how few Star Marines he was seeing.
“Where’s the rest of the battalion?” he asked.
No one answered him.
Capt. Seals gathered the men in a small park in the center of town. Houses lined the streets on either side, a large church sat on the west end.
“All right, listen up!” Capt. Seals stood in front of them, his face streaked with dirt, his eyes serious. “Here’s the situation. The battalion has been surrounded and cut off. We’re facing at least five thousand enemy troops, and it may be tomorrow before we can expect any relief. The name of this town is Trimmer Springs. It’s right on the edge of Coalition territory, and Echo Company has been detailed to dig in and hold at all costs. Most of the people here are on our side, so we’re going to defend them as best we can.
“Coalition troops are moving this way, and we expect them to attack within the hour. They’ll be coming from the east, and the only way in from that direction is through a narrow pass with a single road—we’re going to stop them right there. I want Second Platoon to hold the bottleneck with First Platoon in support, Third in reserve. Find some cover and button up.
“Questions?”
Kopshevar raised his hand. “What happened to the rest of the battalion, Captain?”
“Like I said, we’re surrounded. They’re guarding the western approach to the town.”
Before he finished speaking they heard the whine of an incoming artillery shell. It exploded several blocks away.
“Looks like they’re gonna hammer us while we wait, so get in position and find some cover. Move out!”
First and Second Platoons, badly depleted in numbers, set out toward the east.
Half a dozen more shells streaked in and exploded randomly around town.
Lt. Jaeger of Third Platoon gathered his noncoms to issue orders, then Sgt. DuBose returned to his squad, a corpsman in his wake.
“Walker! Strip off that vest.”
The corpsman looked about seventeen, but was quick and efficient. He picked steel fragments out of Nick’s back, disinfected the wounds with antiseptic spray, and began applying a field dressing.
“Looks like you just got peppered,” he said. “How close were you to the explosion?”
“I dunno, it was behind me. Knocked me off my feet.”
“These laser vests aren’t good for much, but I think it protected you from the worst of it. You’ll be okay in a few days. Try not to move around too much.”
Nick laughed at the absurdity of that statement. “Yeah, right.”
The corpsman finished up and tapped Nick on the helmet. “Good luck, Private.”
Kopshevar laughed. “Don’t let him kid you, Doc—he ain’t old enough either.”
The corpsman grinned and closed up his aid kit. “Semper fi, dudes.” He trotted off down the park to join his unit.
DuBose came over as Nick was putting his vest back on. “You gonna live?”
“Yeah, he gave me five or six hours.”
“All right.” DuBose turned to the rest of his men. “First squad, on me. We’re gonna take cover inside the church.”
“The church!” Kopshevar looked skeptical. “Biggest goddamn target in town!”
“It has a basement. The Freaks are mostly Christian extremists, so the captain thinks they’ll avoid targeting the church. Move out.”
Shells were coming faster now, singing through the air like huge metallic insects.
Nick walked stiffly, carrying his rifle at port arms.
The church was a magnificent structure, but was mostly constructed of wood. Artillery could rip it apart in minutes if the captain was wrong. Still, it boasted a bell tower sixty feet high, which would make a great observation platform if the enemy actually got into town…and if it had a basement, so much the better. Right now a basement sounded very appealing.
The shelling continued for ninety minutes.
Nick dozed while his squad waited for orders. About thirty civilians also cowered in one of the basement rooms, having sought the nearest shelter after being caught in the open.
His senses attuned to changes in his environment, Nick woke when the shelling stopped.
Kopshevar was staring at the ceiling and other men were stirring as well. Sgt. DuBose was on his helmet radio talking to Lt. Jaeger.
Nick shifted position and winced as his wounds complained.
“What’s going on?”
Kopshevar shrugged.
DuBose turned to face the squad.
“Sounds like the Freaks are making their move. Second Platoon is engaging them. We stay put until the captain says otherwise.”
The squad sat silent, their hearts tripping.
Dimly, Nick could hear small-arms fire somewhere in the distance. He reached into a pocket for a ration pack, ripped it open, and chewed the contents, some kind of granola bar with raisins. He hardly tasted it.
They heard more artillery. The small-arms got louder, closer. DuBose listened on his command link and Nick saw his features tighten.
“Sergeant?”
DuBose shook his head. “Second Platoon is falling back. The Freaks have reached First Platoon. Get ready to move.”
Everyone jumped in alarm as heavy combat boots thundered down the wooden stairs. A private Nick didn’t know scrambled toward them and dropped to a knee in front of DuBose. He was out of breath, looking close to panic. He carried a backpack and a heavy .49 calibre Browning sniper rifle, which he gave to DuBose.
“Captain wants to know if anyone here has qualified on this. He wants somebody up in the bell tower. The Freaks are about to overrun First Platoon.”
“Send Walker,” Kopshevar suggested. “He’s about to die anyway.”
Nick tried to laugh, but burst into a coughing fit instead. “Fuck you, Kopycat.”
But DuBose was looking at him. “You are qualified, aren’t you?”
Nick blinked in surprise. “Yeah. I qualified on the range, but I’ve never used one in combat.”
DuBose hefted the rifle and tossed it to him.
“Looks like today’s your lucky day.”
Chapter 1
Thursday, Jan. 13, 0444 (Colonial Calendar) – Trimmer Springs, Alpha Centauri 2
(8 years later)
The damn train only ran once a day…and it was late.
Leaning against the side of the station, Nick Walker glanced at his watch. The maglev was ten minutes overdue, but as he peered down the rail and around the mountain curve, he saw no sign of it. He sighed impatiently and pulled his cowboy hat down to shade his eyes. He would just have to wait; at least it was pleasant here in the shade.
As his eyes swept the platform, Nick almost wondered what century he was living in. Fifty feet away the monorail track was capable of supporting a three hundred-knot maglev passenger train, yet with two or three exceptions the women on the platform were dressed like 19th Century North America—full skirts, bonnets, and in some cases, bustles. The men weren’t much better; the majority wore full beards, flat black hats, and baggy pants held up by suspenders.
Trimmer Springs felt almost like an amusement park, one of those fanciful Main Street affairs that hearkened back to earlier times on Terra. Much of it, including the train station, had a gingerbread look, like something from a children’s fantasy tale. The illusion was heightened by the locals themselves, with their archaic fashions and backward attitudes. Today was the first time he’d seen so many in one place, but that was probably because the maglev only ran once a week. Nick didn’t mind; it gave him a chance to study them and get a feel for their collective personality.
The feeling didn’t seem entirely mutual, though—of the thirty or so people on the platform, several cast disapproving glances in his direction. Clearly he was an outsider, and the United Federation Marshal badge on his shirt didn’t seem to help. Nor did his twin gunbelts, one holding a laser pistol and the other a Ru-Hawk .44 long-barreled revolver. Being an outsider was bad enough, but apparently, being a Federation outsider was damn near a mortal sin.
He crossed his arms and yawned. The people didn’t have to like him. He was here to keep the peace and protect them as best he could. Sooner or later, he hoped, they would come to understand that.
Of course, they didn’t all hate him…
“Hey, Marshal.”
Nick glanced to his left. Hugh Povar had stepped out of the station to join him on the platform. Hugh was a local boy, twenty-two, and a deputy marshal. He was about Nick’s height but ten pounds lighter, a good-looking kid with a quick smile and willing attitude. Nick had only known him two days, but liked him.
“Watcha doing? Waitin’ for the train?”
Nick shook his head. “No, just holding up the building in case of an earthquake.”
Hugh glanced sharply at him, his eyes wide with surprise. He blushed when he saw Nick’s bemused grin.
“Oh. I guess that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?”
“Not necessarily. I could have just been checking out the ladies.”
Hugh gave a short laugh, almost a snort. “Why would you check out this bunch? They dress like prehistoric times.”
“They don’t seem very friendly, either.”
“That’s because they hate the Federation, and they hate the badge.”
Nick nodded thoughtfully. He wasn’t surprised at that. He’d seen people like these before, during the war. Back then they’d been shooting at him.
“These are cult people, aren’t they? I remember them.”
“Yeah. The regular citizens are a lot friendlier. They actually like the Federation, and you in particular.” Hugh leaned against the building, unconsciously aping Nick.
“I remember there were two cults that formed the Coalition,” Nick said, “but I could never tell them apart. They all dress pretty much alike. Who are these people?”
“They’re Homerites. They’re not quite as bad as the Groaners.”
“How do you tell them apart?”
“The Groaners carry guns.”
Nick glanced down the rail again, but still saw nothing coming. A cool breeze washed over him, pleasant in the afternoon heat. The breeze carried the smell of hot food from two or three sources, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten lunch.
Hugh Povar turned his body to face Nick.
“What was it like?” he asked, a look of anticipation on his face.
“What was what like?”
“The war. The church tower.”
Nick blinked, memory flooding back. The question wasn’t completely
unexpected, but it was rather unwelcome.
“I remember that day,” Hugh said, his voice rising again. “I was only fourteen, but I remember it.”
Nick frowned. “You were here?”
Hugh nodded, and pointed vaguely.
“Yeah. Our house is only a few blocks from the church. We were down in the basement, but I could hear the fighting. I still remember the sound of that rifle, and the bullets hitting the bell tower. I remember like it was yesterday.”
Nick’s eyes strayed to his left where the church tower gleamed in the Alpha Centauri sun. It had been repaired, and the tower was clearly visible, dominating the town. A cold shudder washed over him, but he managed to suppress it before Hugh noticed.
“It was the worst day of my life,” he said quietly. “Don’t ask me again.”
The chatter picked up as the train came into sight, reflecting sunlight as it streaked around the mountain curve. Nick still leaned against the station, arms crossed, but Hugh took a step forward and peered down the track. The maglev was decelerating rapidly, silent except for the approaching hiss of compressed air and the shrill tone of the warning horn. It was two miles out when it first came into view, but barely a minute later it was sliding to a stop at the station. The ladies in their long skirts milled about anxiously as they prepared to greet whomever they were waiting for.
Nick’s heart beat a little faster as the doors slid open and people began to debark.
“Jesus Christ!” Hugh exclaimed beside him. “Will you look at that!”
Nick had already seen “that”. The woman who stepped down from the forward car was a magnificent specimen of femininity, a startling contrast to the women on the platform. She wore a white blouse that was tied around the waist and open at the throat, exposing her belly button and the top third of her magnificent cleavage. Her pants were so tight she seemed to have been poured into them, and her blond hair gleamed like a halo in the sunlight. Her face was chiseled to perfection, with a straight nose, full lips, and narrowed green eyes that peered out like lasers. She was in her early thirties, clearly not a kid, but surely the most stunning woman who had ever set foot in Trimmer Springs.