by Sam Schal
“Nothing!” Peltier said a moment later, his own fear evident.
Turning from the window, Kasun hurried across the office to his desk. His fingers danced across the virtual keyboard as he typed. Command sequence after command sequence failed. No one responded to his calls for support. Swallowing hard, he tried to activate the link to the spaceport. Silence. Fear erupted and sweat pricked out on his upper lip. Something was very definitely wrong and he had a feeling their time had run out.
But he couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not without proof.
Dear God, what was going on?
“We need to get to the bunker,” he said, gathering up the datachips and looking around to make sure he was leaving nothing behind of any import. “Get word to your people that the POWs and other prisoners are not to be allowed to escape. Lock down the compound and make sure they are where we can still use them when the time comes.”
“See to it, Kerrigan,” Peltier ordered the guard standing on the other side of the open door.
“Send someone to Comms and try to reach Parnian. See if he can send us help from the spaceport.”
As he spoke, Kasun reminded himself not to panic. He had to maintain at least the illusion that he was still in control. But it was hard. So very hard. Especially when he wanted nothing more than to hide until it was safe for him to come out and find a way off this hellhole of a planet.
* * *
“Sir, we’ve got a visual,” Captain Jareau reported.
“Put it up on the secondary screens,” Collins ordered.
An audible gasp filled the flag bridge as the image appeared on the displays before them. It looked like a primitive war was going on and the survivors from the Tarrant were right in the middle of it. Worse, there were too few of them, even with the help they were receiving from the other prisoners, to hold out for long against the armed guards. But at least they were holding their own for the moment. Hopefully, the Devil Dogs could reach them before all was lost.
“Comms, signal Colonel Shaw. Tell her to go to Code Red. I repeat. Code Red. They are to drop and secure the area now,” Collins said coldly.
“Signal away, Sir.”
“Hang on, everyone. We’re coming. Hang on just a little while longer.”
* * *
“Fall back!” Joss yelled as the guards withdrew to regroup. “Damn it, fall back!”
Slowly, those of his people still on their feet gathered around him. Even as they did, he shook his head in disbelief. With the guards armed, they might have well been outnumbered more than three to one. But they had held their own, finding makeshift weapons and recovering the weapons from the guards who fell. Somehow, they not only lived but, with the exception of Bo Geist who lay at the far end of the arena where they had taken him before the fight began, they were relatively unscathed.Well, not exactly. They were battered and beaten but they hadn’t broken. True, Sharra Sinclair remained on her feet through sheer stubbornness and several others were little better. Fortunately for all of them, the guards were not working as a cohesive unit. That lack of coordination made it easy to exploit weaknesses in their attack. Even so, Joss knew that if he didn’t find a way to win soon, all the prisoners would die.
But he was damned if they would go down cowering in fear.
Cursing silently, he let his eyes roam the area before him. His gaze swept over the guards who were gathering to attack again. There was something different about them this time. Where they had been cautious before, now they appeared almost hesitant. There was a sense that they were waiting for someone to give an order, any order, but none came. It didn’t make any sense. The guards might be outnumbered – and he wasn’t sure they were – but they most definitely weren’t outgunned. The POWs had only managed to get their hands on a few of the weapons dropped when guards fell during the initial encounter.
Joss looked around, searching for anything that might explain why the guards had yet to press their advantage again. He scanned the area, frowning. Then he turned his attention back to the guards. Some wore light armor. Others were in their daily uniforms. But none of them wore the insignia of a senior officer. He wasn’t even sure there were any senior non-coms among them. If that was the case – and he had no idea why there would be no one with any real authority present – then it would explain why none of them seemed to know exactly what they were to do.
“Where are all the officers?” O’Donnell asked softly from his side.
“More importantly, where is that bastard Peltier and why isn’t he here?” Joss wanted to know. “He wouldn’t miss a chance to hurt any of us. So where is he?”
“Sir, it looks like they’ve decided to try again,” Levitson reported softly.
Frowning, Joss looked in the direction of the guards. Levitson was right. They were coming again, but even more slowly than before. Perhaps the sight of their fallen companions was enough to make them remember just how deadly people could be when they knew they had nothing to lose. Now it was his turn to make sure the POWs exercised enough caution to keep the guards off of them and yet hold out long enough to find out what in the hell was going on.
Even as the question formed, he knew the answer. It would mean some of his people, military and civilian alike, might die but it would keep more of them alive. They had to continue to take the fight directly to the guards. Without someone willing to give orders, the guards would not work as a single unit. He had already seen that. Now he had to press that advantage and try to drive the guards out of the compound long enough that the prisoners could secure the gate against them.
”Close up our ranks. We need to push them back, out of the gate. If we can secure it against them, maybe we can hold out until we know what’s going on.
“Levitson, get yourself some people and move to the right flank. Keep low as we try to push the guards back. Watch for my signal. If necessary, I’ll call you into the fight. I’m hoping I won’t have to. If that’s the case, as soon as we get the guards beyond the gate, I want you and your people to get it shut. I don’t care what you have to do. Just do it.”
“Understood, Sir.” The man turned and scanned the faces of those closest to him. It didn’t take him long to choose half a dozen.
Joss watched as they moved slowly to the back of the group. Nodding in approval, he waited another moment and then focused on the rest of those still able to fight. “Let’s do this. Let’s take the fight to them.”
He lifted his right fist and focused on the slowly advancing guards. He wanted them to get a little closer before ordering the attack. Just a little bit more. Let them think the POWs had finally started having second thoughts.
“Come on,” he whispered, every muscle and nerve tense. “Come on. . . NOW!”
A battle cry rose from the throats of those behind him and filled the air. He almost laughed as the guards faltered, fear washing across the expressions of many of them as the poorly armed but very determined POWs suddenly rushed in their direction.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BRIGADIER GENERAL ELIZABETH SHAW stared out the window behind her desk. Below her, visible if she increased the magnification, the members of FirstDiv, Second Batt were doing PT. The division was on standby, waiting to learn where FleetCom decided it was most needed. While most of her attention had been on making sure the division was ready to move out, one part of her remained focused on the Devil Dogs. Unless something unexpected happened, they should now be trying to drive the Callusians from Cassius Prime.
“Are you all right?”
Elizabeth turned at the sound of Helen Okafor’s voice. The woman stood just inside the door. Her expression reflected her concern. Then, before Elizabeth could respond, the Commandant of the Marine Corps stepped further into the office and the door slid shut behind her.
“Just having a mother moment.” Elizabeth smiled slightly and motioned for Okafor to take the desk chair. It didn’t surprise her when Okafor shook her head before dropping onto one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“I know. I feel that way whenever I think about Jarrod,” Okafor said, referring to her son who commanded a cruiser in Third Fleet. “But you know Ash isn’t going to do anything foolish. Nothing is going to keep her from attending Sorkowski’s and O’Brien’s courts-martial.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Any word on O’Brien?”
When she had first learned of how the former Marine CO had been attacked, the only thing that had surprised her was that she wasn’t surprised. Then relief that Ashlyn was off-planet filled her. That meant her daughter couldn’t be blamed for the attack on the man. Not that it had stopped some members of the media from speculating about it.
“The doctors say he’ll be able to stand trial, assuming he doesn’t have another accident.” Okafor’s expression turned grim.
“Good. Death is too easy an escape for that bastard.”
“Agreed.” Okafor paused and Elizabeth wondered what was on her mind. “Liz, I had a visit from Rico Santiago earlier.”
Elizabeth dropped onto her chair, not sure if she wanted to know what FleetCom’s Intelligence Chief had to say.
“It seems he is looking into what happened and has been comparing notes with JAG.”
“And?”
“He’s convinced that what happened to O’Brien was meant as a message to not only him but to the others arrested with him, especially Sorkowski.”
“But that doesn’t make sense.”
Not unless there were others involved they didn’t know about yet.
“Unless we’ve missed something,” Okafor said.
Elizabeth blew out a breath, not sure what to think. She had always felt there was more to what happened to Ash and her people than they knew. Over the last few months, she’d also found herself wondering if there wasn’t more to the Callusians resuming hostilities than they thought. Could the two somehow be connected?
“What do you want me to do?”
“Meet with Santiago and compare notes. I know you’ve been looking into what happened as well.”
“Understood.”
“Good.” Okafor stood and quickly motioned for Elizabeth to stay where she was. “Keep me informed.”
With that, she was gone, leaving Elizabeth wondering when things would return to normal – if they ever did.
* * *
Kasun cursed loudly as an attack shuttle opened fire on the shuttles resting with cold engines at the landing field. They went up in a ball of flame no one could miss. Then that precision targeting turned to his groundside defenses. Yet through it all there was no demand for surrender, no contact whatsoever.
“Who are they?” he demanded helplessly.
“Does it matter?” Peltier countered, bracing himself with a hand on the wall as an explosion rocked the building. “We’re dead no matter who they are.”
Kasun knew the guard captain was right. Even if the invaders should somehow decide to break off the attack, the POWs were still there. He knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if they managed to get their hands on him. He had to prevent that. But how? He had lost any advantage he had when the prisoners decided to fight back.
“Captain, have your people make sure the POWs are locked down. Barricade the gates and the underground access. We can’t worry about them and these damned invaders as well,” he snapped. “Make sure everyone’s armed, support staff as well as your people. Then get back here. Hopefully by then someone will figure out we need help.”
Assuming they aren’t in the same position we are.
* * *
“LT!” O’Donnell yelled from across the arena.
Hearing the disbelief in the woman’s voice, Joss quickly turned in her direction. As he did, the unmistakable roar of an attack shuttle streaking across the sky filled the air. It was followed almost instantly by the sounds of several explosions. A huge fireball shot across the sky only to disappear in the distance.
“Get under cover!” Joss ordered. “Run!”
Joss moved as quickly as he could toward the meager shelter offered by the walls of the buildings. The POWs might not be able to get inside but at least they could stick close to the structures as the fighting raged around them.
Without pausing, Joss grabbed O’Donnell as she stumbled and dragged her forward. As he did, he thanked a God he wasn’t sure he still believed in. At least so far they still lived. Hopefully, that wasn’t about to change.
Another series of explosions rocked the compound. Joss stumbled, pain tearing up his left leg. Before he could fall, O’Donnell steadied him. Then they slid the last few feet to where the others waited in the shadows of the administration building.
“What’s going on?” one of the politicians who had been captured during the initial invasion wanted to know.
“Someone’s decided they hate Kasun as much as we do,” Joss replied as he looked around to make sure everyone had found cover. “Sharra?”
The sight of the bloody makeshift bandages at shoulder and abdomen worried Joss. Somehow, he had to get medical help for the woman, and for the other injured, as quickly as possible. But how, when he didn’t know what was going on outside the arena?
“I’ve been better, Joss,” the blonde replied.
“You just sit still and try to rest.”
“The LT’s right, Sharra,” O’Donnell said gently as she knelt at Joss’s side. “I’ll sit with her. The Gunny thinks he’s found something to get those chains off you.” She nodded at the chains still hanging from each of Joss’s wrists.
For a moment, he hesitated. Then he nodded. Like it or not, he was needed elsewhere.
“All right. I’ll be back.”
* * *
Kasun stared at the scene below and shook his head. He didn’t feel anything. No longer did his brain register shock or fear. Why should it? He was a dead man and he knew it. It was only a question of when he would die and by whose hand.
He released the breath he had been holding. There were no words to describe the carnage below. Marines wearing midnight black battle armor relieved only by the insignia of those thrice damned Fuerconese Devil Dogs swept across the grounds. They killed anyone and anything that appeared to pose a threat. Now they were bearing down on the administration building.
Time was up. If he didn’t try to get to the bunker now, he would never have the chance.
Turning, he took two steps and then stopped as the sounds of fighting in the outer office reached him. A moment later, the office door blew open with a deafening blast. The force of the explosion knocked him back several steps and he fell to his knees. If possible, he would have tunneled out of the office.
Instead, before he could look to see where Peltier was, pain exploded in his ribs. The heavy boot connected once and then again and he sprawled on the floor. Tears burned his eyes and he gasped for breath. Looking up, he found himself staring down the barrels of four battle rifles and he once again cursed High Command for stripping away most of his defenses.
Gods above and below, he didn’t want to die like this.
* * *
“Loco, secure these pieces of scum,” Ashlyn ordered as she removed her battle helmet. She tossed it onto the nearby desk before activating her comm. “Sir, Admin’s now under our control. Squads One through Four are continuing to sweep the other parts of the outer area. As soon as the area’s secure, we’ll move to the inner compound.”
“Excellent, Angel,” Admiral Collins replied. “As soon as you have the building secured, move on to the grounds. There are injured out there who need our help.”
“Understood, Sir,” Ash responded and glanced out the door as the sounds of several people approaching reached her. A moment later, she nodded in satisfaction as Corporal Donnelly and Captain Nichols appeared. Both looked ready for anything and Ashlyn found herself pitying the two men now cuffed and kneeling on the floor a few feet away.
“Report,” she said simply.
“This floor is secured, Ma’am. Teams are moving on to their next targets.”
As
hlyn nodded. Then she once again turned her attention to the two prisoners. Her upper lip curled back as she recognized the older man. They had lucked out and found one of their primary targets without really trying. All she had to do was make sure the man told her everything she wanted to know.
“Name?” she snapped as she stood over him. When he remained silent, even refusing to meet her eyes, she nodded to Talbot who signaled for two of their team to move behind the prisoners. “Your name,” she repeated as one of the Marines forced the man’s head back by the simple means of grabbing a handful of hair and pulling.
“K-Kasun,” he stammered.
“Rank and assignment?” she asked even though she knew the answer.
“A-anton Kasun. Occupational Governor.”
“Well, Occupational Governor Kasun, I am Lt. Colonel Ashlyn Shaw, First Battalion, First Division, Fuerconese Marine Corps. It is with extreme pleasure that I inform you that we are now in control of this planet.”
“No!”
The gasp was torn from Kasun as he stared at Ashlyn in disbelief. She simply returned his stare, giving him time to accept the fact that they really were there and not haring off to the Nystrom System.
“Yes,” she countered coldly. “I really don’t care whether we keep you alive or not. That’s up to you. Give us the information we want and you’ll live. Refuse and I’ll leave you here to explain to your superiors what happened and how you managed to lose an entire system. I’m quite sure they won’t be as understanding as I am.”
Both Kasun and Peltier blanched at her words. Nothing could be truer. They were dead men. The Callusians didn’t suffer losses well. And this was, in so many ways, worse than a loss in battle. The Cassius System was supposed to be their advanced base of operations for when they launched the final attack on Fuercon.
“What do you want?”
“It’s really very simple. Give us the computer access codes and the locations of every POW on planet as well as those shipped out,” Ashlyn said. Her voice was clam, but the way her hand rested on the pulsar at her hip spoke volumes about what would happen if he failed to comply.