Falkenberg’s Legion

by Jerry Pournelle

  "They'll send another group around behind the hill," Roszak said. "We'll never stop them."

  "No." So damned near. A few minutes' difference and we'd have bagged them all. The column Falkenberg was chasing was now no more than two kilometers south of us and moving fast.

  "Hold one," Deane said. "I've got a Corporal Dangier calling in. Claims to be in position to spot targets for me."

  "He's one of the wounded we left behind," I said. "He can see the road from his position, all right, but he won't last long once they know we've got a spotter in position to observe them."

  "Do I fire the mission?" Deane demanded.

  "Yes." Scratch Corporal Dangier, who had a girl in Harmony and a wife on Earth.

  "I'll leave one gun at your disposal," Deane said. "I'm putting the rest on Dangier's mission."

  A few minutes later we heard the artillery falling on the road behind us. That would play hell with the Association retreat. It kept up for ten minutes; then Deane called in again. "Can't raise Dangier any longer."

  "No. There's nothing we can do here. They're staying out of sight. I'll call in some fire in places that might do some good, but it's shooting blind."

  I amused myself with that for a while. It was frustrating. Once that force got to the top of the Rockpile, the route into Allansport would be secure. I was still cursing when Hartz shouted urgently.

  "Centurion Ardwain on the line, sir."

  "Ardwain, where are you?"

  "Less than a klick west of you, Lieutenant. We moved around the edge of the town. Can't get inside without support. Militia won't try it, anyway."

  "How many Marines do you have?" I demanded.

  "About eighty effective. And Old Beastly."

  "By God! Ardwain, move in fast. We'll join you as you come by. We're going right up to the top of the Rockpile and sit there until Falkenberg gets here. With Deane's artillery support we can hold that hill."

  "Aye, aye, sir. We're coming."

  "Let's go!" I shouted. "Who's been hit and can't run?"

  No one answered. "Sergeant Roszak took one in the leg an hour ago, Lieutenant," Hartz said.

  "I can still travel," Roszak said.

  "Bullshit. You'll stay here and spot artillery for us. All the walking wounded stay with him. The rest of you get moving. We want to be in position when Centurion Ardwain comes."

  "But - "

  "Shut up and soldier, Roszak." I waved and we moved down from our low hilltop. We were panting when we got to the base of the Rockpile. There were already Association forces up there. I didn't know how many. We had to get up there before more joined them. The way up just ahead of me was clear, because it was in direct view of Roszak and his artillery spotters. We could use it and they couldn't.

  I waved the men forward. Even a dozen of us on top of the Rockpile might be enough if Ardwain came up fast. We started up. Two men went down, then another, and my troops began to look around for shelter. I couldn't blame them, but I couldn't let them do it. Getting up that hill had become the only thing in my life. I had to get them moving again.

  "Brady!" I shouted. "Corporal, sound the charge!" The trumpet notes sang out. A monitor whipped out a banner and waved it above his head. I shouted "Follow me!" and ran up the hill. Then a mortar shell exploded two meters away. I had time to see bright red blotches spurt across my trousers legs and to wonder if that was my own blood; then I fell. The battle noises dimmed out.

  "Lieutenant! Mr. Slater!"

  I was in the bottom of a well. It was dark down there, and it hurt to look up at the light. I wanted to sink back into the well, but someone at the top was shouting at me. "Mr. Slater!"

  "He's coming around, Centurion."

  "He's got to, Crisp! Mr. Slater!"

  There were people all around me. I couldn't see them very clearly, but I could recognize the voice. "Yes, Centurion."

  "Mr. Slater," Ardwain said. "The Governor says we shouldn't take the hill! What do we do, sir?"

  It didn't make sense. Where am I? I wondered. I had just sense enough not to ask. Everybody asks that, I thought. Why does everybody ask that? But I don't know -

  I was pulled to a sitting position. My eyes managed to focus again, just for a moment. I was surrounded by people and rocks. Big rocks. Then I knew where I was. I'd passed these rocks before. They were at the base of the hill. Rocks below the Rockpile.

  "What's that? Don't take the hill?" I said.

  "Yes, sir - "

  "Lieutenant, I have ordered your men to pull back. There are not enough to take this hill, and there's no point in wasting them."

  That wasn't the Governor, but I'd heard the voice before. Trevor. Colonel Trevor of the militia. He'd been with Swale at the staff meeting back at Beersheba. Bits of the staff meeting came back to me, and I tried to remember more of them. Then I realized that was silly.

  The staff meeting wasn't important, but I couldn't think. What was important? There was something I had to do.

  Get up the hill. I had to get up the hill. "Get me on my feet, Centurion."

  "Sir - "

  "Do it!" I was screaming. "I'm going up there. We have to take the Rockpile."

  "You heard the company commander!" Ardwain shouted. "Move out!"

  "Slater, you don't know what you're saying!" Trevor shouted.

  I ignored him. "I've got to see," I said. I tried to get up, but my legs weren't working. Nothing happened when I tried to move them. "Lift me where I can see," I said.

  "Sir - "

  "Crisp, don't argue with me. Do it."

  "You're crazy, Slater!" Trevor shouted. "Delirious. Sergeant Crisp, put him down. You'll kill him."

  The medics hauled me to the edge of the boulder patch. Ardwain was leading men up the hill. Not just Marines, I saw. The militia had followed, as well. Insane, something whispered in the back of my mind. All insane. It's a disease, and they've caught it, too. I pushed the thought away.

  They were falling, but they were still moving forward as they fell. I didn't know if they'd get to the top.

  "You wanted to see!" Trevor shouted. "Now you've seen it! You can't send them up there. It's suicide, and they won't even listen to me! You've got to call them back, Slater. Make them retreat."

  I looked at the fallen men. Some were just ahead of me. They hadn't even gotten twenty meters. There was one body blown in half. Something bright lay near it. I saw what it was and turned to Trevor.

  "Retreat, Colonel? See that? Our trumpeter was killed sounding the charge. I don't know how to order a retreat."

  XIX

  I WAS DEEP in the well again, and it was dark, and I was afraid. They reached down into it after me, trying to pull me up, and I wanted to come. I knew I'd been in there a long time, and I wanted out, because I could hear Kathryn calling for me. I reached for her hand, but I couldn't find it. I remember shouting, but I don't know what I said. The nightmare went on for a long time.

  Then it was daytime. The light was orange-red, very bright, and the walls were splashed with the orange light. I tried to move my head.

  "Doc!" someone shouted. His voice was very loud.

  "Hal?"

  "I can't see you," I said. "Where are you, Kathryn? Where are you?"

  "I'm here, Hal. I'll always be here."

  And then it was dark again, but it wasn't so lonely in there.

  I woke up several times after that. I couldn't talk much, and when I did I don't suppose I made much sense, but finally things were clear. I was in the hospital in Garrison, and I'd been there for weeks. I wasn't sure just how long. Nobody would tell me anything, and they talked in hushed tones so that I was sure I was dying, but I didn't.

  "What the hell's wrong with me?" I demanded.

  "Just take it easy, young fellow." He had a white coat, thick glasses, and a brown beard with white hairs in it.

  "Who the hell are you?"

  "That's Dr. Cechi," Kathryn told me.

  "Well, why won't he tell me what's wrong with me?"

&nbs
p; "He doesn't want to worry you."

  "Worry me? Do you think not knowing gives peace of mind? Tell me."

  "All right," Cechi said. "Nothing permanent. Understand that first. Nothing permanent, although it's going to take a while to fix you up. We almost lost you a couple of times, you know. Multiple perforations of the gut, two broken vertebrae, compound fracture of the left femur, and assorted scrapes, punctures, bruises, abrasions, and contusions. Not to mention almost complete exsanguination when they brought you in. It's nothing we can't fix, but you're going to be here a while, Captain." He was holding my arm, and I felt pressure there, a hypo-spray. "You just go to sleep and we'll tell you the rest tomorrow."

  "But - " Whatever I was going to say never got out. I sank back, but it wasn't into the well. It was just sleep, and I could tell the difference.

  The next time I awoke, Falkenberg was there. He grinned at me.

  I grinned back. "Hi, Captain."

  "Major. You're the captain."

  "Uh? Run that past - "

  "Just brevet promotions, but Harrington thinks they'll stick."

  "We must have won."

  "Oh, yeah." He sat where I could see him. His eyes looked pale blue in that light. "Lieutenant Ardwain took the Rockpile, but he said it was all your doing."

  "Lieutenant Ardwain. Lot of promotions out of this," I said.

  "Some. The Association no longer exists as an organized military force. Your girl's friends are in control. Wan Loo is the acting president, or supervisor, or whatever they call him. Governor Swale's not too happy about it, but officially he has to be. He didn't like endorsing Harrington's report, either, but he had no choice."

  "But he's a lousy traitor. Why's he still governor?"

  "Act your age, Captain." There wasn't any humor in Falkenberg's voice now. "We have no proof. I know the story, if you'd like to hear it. In fact, you'd better. You're popular enough with the Fleet, but there'll be elements of the Grand Senate that'll hate your guts."

  "Tell me."

  "Swale has always been part of the Bronson faction," Falkenberg said. "The Bronson family is big in Dover Mineral Development Inc. Seems there's more to this place than either American Express or Kennicott ever knew. Dover found out and tried to buy mineral rights. The holy Joes wouldn't sell - especially the farmers like Wan Loo and Seeton. They don't want industrial development here, and it was obvious to Swale that they wouldn't sell any mining rights to Dover. Swale's policy has been to help groups like the Association in return for their signatures on mining rights contracts. If enough of those outfits are recognized as legitimate local governments, there won't be any trouble over the contracts. You can probably figure out the rest."

  "Maybe it's my head," I told him, "but I can't. What the devil did he let us into the valley for, then? Why did he go down there at all?"

  "Just because they signed over some mining rights didn't make them his slaves. They were trying to jack up the grain prices. If the Harmony merchants complained loud enough, Swale wouldn't be governor here, and what use would he be to Dover then? He had to put some pressure on them - enough to make them sell, not so much that they'd be thrown out."

  "Only we threw them out," I said.

  "Only we threw them out. This time. Don't imagine that it's over."

  "It has to be over," I said. "He couldn't pull that again."

  "Probably he won't. Bronson hasn't much use for failures. I expect Governor Swale will shortly be on his way to a post as First Secretary on a mining asteroid. There'll be another governor, and if he's not a Bronson client, he'll be someone else's. I'm not supposed to depress you. You've got a decision to make. I've been assigned to a regular Line Regiment as adjutant. The 42nd. It's on Kennicott. Tough duty. Probably a lot of fighting, good opportunities, regular troops. I've got room on the staff. Want to come along? They tell me you'll be fit to move by the time the next ship gets here."

  "I'll think about it."

  "Do that. You've got a good career ahead of you. Now you're the youngest captain in the Fleet. Couldn't swing the Military Star, but you'll get another medal."

  "I'll think about it. I have to talk with Kathryn - "

  He shrugged. "Certainly, Captain." He grinned and went out.

  Captain. Captains may marry, Majors should marry, Colonels must marry -

  But that was soldier talk, and I wasn't sure I was a soldier. Strange, I thought. Everyone says I am. I've done well, and I have a great career, and it all seems like a fit of madness. Corporal Brady won't be playing his trumpet any longer because of me. Dangier, wounded but alive, until he volunteered to be an artillery spotter. And all the others, Levine and Lieberman and recruit - no, Private - Dietz, and the rest, dead and blended together in my memory until I can't remember where they died or what for, only that I killed them.

  But we won. It was a glorious victory. That was enough for Falkenberg. He had done his job and done it well. Was it enough for me? Would it be in the future?

  When I was up and around, I couldn't avoid meeting Governor Swale. Irina was nursing Louis Bonneyman. Louis was worse off than I was. Sometimes they can grow you a new leg, but it takes time, and it's painful. Irina saw him every day, and when I could leave the hospital she insisted that I come to the palace. It was inevitable that I would meet the Governor.

  "I hope you're proud of yourself," Swale said. "Everyone else is."

  "Hugo, that's not fair," Irina protested.

  "Not fair?" Swale said. "How isn't it fair?"

  "I did the job I was paid to do, sir," I said.

  "Yes. You did, indeed - and thereby made it impossible for me to do mine. Sit down, Captain Slater. Your Major Falkenberg has told you plenty of stories about me. Now let me tell you my side of it."

  "There's no need, Ggovernor," I said.

  "No, there isn't. Are you afraid to find out just what you've done?"

  "No. I've helped throw out a gang of convicts who pretended to be a government. And I'm proud enough of that."

  "Are you? Have you been to the Allan Valley lately, Captain? Of course you haven't. And I doubt Kathryn Malcolm has told you what's happening there - how Wan Loo and Harry Seeton and a religious fanatic named Brother Dornan have established commissions of deacons to inquire into the morals and loyalties of everyone in the valley; how anyone they find deficient is turned off the land to make room for their own people. No, I don't suppose she told you any of that."

  "I don't believe you."

  "Don't you? Ask Miss Malcolm. Or would you believe Irina? She knows it's true."

  I looked to Irina. The pain in her eyes was enough. She didn't have to speak.

  "I was governor of the whole planet, Slater. Not just Harmony, not just the Jordan and Allan valleys, but all of the planet. Only they gave me responsibilities and no authority, and no means to govern. What am I supposed to do with the convicts, Slater? They ship them here by the thousands, but they give me nothing to feed them with. You've seen them. How are they supposed to live?"

  "They can work - "

  "At what? As farmhands on ranches of five hundred hectares? The best land on the planet, doled out as huge ranches with half the land not worked because there's no fertilizer, no irrigation, not even decent drainage systems. They sure as hell can't work in our nonexistent industries. Don't you see that Arrarat must industrialize? It doesn't matter what Allan Valley farmers want, or what the other holy Joes want. It's industrialize or face famine, and, by God, there'll be no famines while I can do something about them."

  "So you were willing to sell out the 501st. Help the Association defeat us. An honorable way to achieve an honorable end."

  "As honorable as yours. Yours is to kill and destroy. War is honorable, but deceit isn't. I prefer my way, Captain."

  "I expect you do."

  Swale nodded vigorously, to himself, not to me. "Smug. Proud and smug. Tell me, Captain, just how are you better than the Protective Association? They fought. Not for the honor of the corps, but for their land, t
heir families, for friends. They lost. You had better men, better officers, better training. A lot better equipment. If you'd lost, you'd have been returned to Garrison under terms. The Association troops were shot out of hand. All of them. Be proud, Slater. But you make me sick. I'll leave you now. I don't care to argue with my daughter's guests."

  "That's true also, isn't it?" I asked Irina. "They shot all the Association troops?"

  "Not all," Irina said. "The ones that surrendered to Captain Falkenberg are still alive. He even recruited some of them."

  He would. The battalion would need men after those battles. "What's happened to the rest?"

  "They're under guard at Beersheba. It was after your Marines left the valley that the real slaughter began."

  "Sure. People who wouldn't turn out to fight for their homes when we needed their help got real patriotic after it was over," I said. "I'm going back to my quarters, Irina. Thank you for having me over."

  "But Kathryn is coming. She'll be here - "

  "I don't want to see anyone just now. Excuse me." I left quickly and wandered through the streets of Harmony. People nodded and smiled as I passed. The Marines were still popular. Of course. We'd opened the trade route up the Jordan, and we'd cleared out the Allan Valley. Grain was cheap, and we'd held the convicts at bay. Why shouldn't the people love us?

  Tattoo sounded as I entered the fort. The trumpets and drums sounded through the night, martial and complex and the notes were sweet. Sentries saluted as I passed. Life here was orderly and there was no need to think.

  Hartz had left a full bottle of brandy where I could find it. It was his theory that the reason I wasn't healing fast was that I didn't drink enough. The surgeons didn't share his opinion. They were chopping away at me, then using the regeneration stimulators to make me grow better parts. It was a painful process, and they didn't think liquor helped it much.

  To hell with them, I thought, and poured a double. I hadn't finished it when Kathryn came in.

  "Irina said - Hal, you shouldn't be drinking."