by E. G. Castle
“…Right.” Frank mentally cursed himself for making a rookie mistake. Together, the two Marines kept the pirates from approaching further, until finally Andy reported, “Sir, all the remaining guerrillas are out.”
Remaining? Frank shoved the word out of his mind, and, with a quick word to Javer, began laying down preventive fire, as he and his sergeant leapfrog-fired back to the wall.
After only a few moments, the two were out of the compound, where the waiting guerrillas were guarding the hole in the wall.
It was then that the Windstrike returned.
“All troops retreat! Full speed!” Captain Fil’dwis bellowed.
At the same time, Frank ordered over the com, “Andy, Javer, all firepower on the Windstrike, now!” A barrage of shots greeted the gunboat, who began launching missiles at the fleeing guerrilla team, as well as using its beam cannons this time.
When it finally broke off, it did so awkwardly, its engines having taken several light hits. The guerrillas had the worse of the exchange though, losing several men. As well, Andy had been hit directly by one of the Windstrike’s beam cannons.
“You all right?” Frank inquired as he lifted him up. The Marine’s shield had protected him from most of the energy shot, but his battlesuit was definitely looking the worse for wear.
“Fine, sir. …Mostly.”
Helping the injured Marine forward, Frank gave a worried glance back at the sky.
“Javer…”
“On it, sir.”
Making his way to the front of the group, half carrying Andy, the lieutenant asked the jogging Captain Fil’dwis, “You think they’re going to keep coming after us?”
Several shots were heard back from the hole in the wall, where the pirates were finally coming through.
“Yep.” the captain grunted in resignation.
The lieutenant swore, as the captain ordered, “Ashley, set up a rearguard! Everyone, move it!”
“Already done, sir!” The small sergeant was better at her job than she looked.
Constantly taking attacks from the back, and occasional strafing attacks from the Windstrike, the team beat a fighting retreat.
***
Several hours later they finally managed to break contact, after they succeeded in bringing down the Windstrike thirty minutes previous. Sergeant Javer had managed a lucky hit on the gunboat’s engine, causing it to crash. And their last encounter with the pirate’s ground force had been nearly forty minutes ago.
Unfortunately, they had also lost most of the guerrilla team, only eight effective left, aside from the sergeant and captain. As well, Frank himself had taken a nasty hit to the right arm in the Windstrike’s last attack.
When the general heard about their losses, and about the utter failure of their mission, he was not happy.
“You failed. And lost most of your men. Do you think this is acceptable, Captain Fil’dwis? Lieutenant?”
“No, sir.”
“No, general.”
“No? No?! Then why did this happen?!”
“Sir, we couldn’t expect them to have a hidden, prepared gunboat, and we were outnumbered over five to one,” Captain Fil’dwis pointed out.
“And you think we can only fight battles where we can match our opponents, captain?”
“No, but we need to be able to at least fight them on our terms, sir,” Lieutenant Harsmith put in.
“Is that what you think, lieutenant?” General Juan said, rounding on him.
“Yessir.”
“Then let me tell you what I think…” The next several minutes was devoted to an soliloquy of what the general thought of them and their ideas.
When he finally finished, he sat back in his chair, not saying anything.
Lieutenant Harsmith cleared his throat.
“Sir. How did the other missions go?”
The general shrugged.
“About as well as could be expected. Some successes, mostly failures. A few got ambushed like you did. We now know that they have three- had three, now two, Windstrikes. They might have more, but I doubt it. I suspect they kept the three back, just in case… And now, with our attacks, it’s reached ‘just in case’.”
Frank overall agreed, although he intended to keep an open eye out for any other surprises. Just in case.
“Did we accomplish anything particular of note, sir?”
“Hmph. Well, they lost three gunboats, one Windstrike to you, and another two Blastfires. Your Marines did a good job,” he said grudgingly.
“Thank you, sir, on their behalf.”
The general negligently waved an arm.
“We also managed to kill a good hundred-fifty of their men,” he continued. “And hit some of their supply compounds, strongholds, and the like.”
“And our losses, sir?”
“Over fifty of our men have been seriously injured, and another hundred killed. And three Marines.”
The lieutenant winced.
“Not good.”
“No, lieutenant,” the general said ironically. “Not good at all.” He sighed.
“You’re both dismissed,” he said coldly, studying the map on the table now.
Frank considered informing him, that, as the general wasn’t in his chain of command, he had no authority to dismiss him…
But decided discretion was the better part of the valor.
About-facing sharply with the captain, the two strode out of the room.
“The general’s in a bad position,” the captain finally offered, in an attempt to smooth things over, as they made their way down the hall.
Frank blinked.
“What? Oh. Yes, of course. Actually, I’m just wondering what we’re going to do next.”
“Wish I knew myself…”
***
“Let’s see… Three gunboats lost? A hundred men dead?” Bloody Jack thoughtfully tapped at the table, as he stared at his captains, who avoided looking at him. All were sure he was looking for a scapegoat.
“Mad?”
“We got two hundred of them. By my count, that puts us up.”
“No. No, it doesn’t.” Bloody Jack was now smiling, but the tension in the room was only racketing higher.
“Do you know why?” He waited a moment. Then his smile disappeared, to be replaced by an ugly look. Bloody Jack leaned forward.
“BECAUSE WE LOST THREE GUNBOATS!” he roared out. Several of the pirates leaned involuntarily back. Hamil, the operations officer, winced.
Calming slightly, the pirate chieftain continued, “We could lose a thousand men, and still be in a better position than if losing those gunboats.” An exaggeration, perhaps, but not by much.
“And their losing two hundred men?” He blew a raspberry. “It means nothing. We could lose one man to ten of theirs, and they’d still win. Remember, there are literally millions of potential recruits for them on the planet.”
“Then why did we come here?” one of the pirate captains asked, a nasty, provoking looking individual. He looked at Bloody Jack with a barely veiled contempt.
“If the entire planet is going to be against us, if we’re going to have to fight all of them, what was the point of all this? How’s it worth it?” Bloody Jack considered him for a moment. Then the pirate burst into flame.
Immediately, all the pirates near the flaming pyre that had once been a pirate captain leaped away.
Raising his hand from below the tabletop, Bloody Jack showed his flamer to all those who hadn’t figured it out.
There was a silence, as the pirates alternatively stared at Bloody Jack, the walls, and at the still burning man. Mad, on the other hand, only focused on the flames, eyes and mouth showing a terrible joy.
“If you idiots would actually conquer the planet, it would be fine,” Bloody Jack answered, as if the pirate captain was in any shape to hear.
He paused, but no-one expressed disagreement. Almost disappointed, he sat back and holstered his gun.
“All right. What’s done is do
ne. Hamil, I want you to leave three gunboats, one of them a Windstrike, around the governor’s mansion. Then organize the others and set-up a plan to hunt the guerrillas. Hand it over to Mad to execute, and have them start scouring the guerrillas out. Try to remind them to use the beam cannons, not missiles. But if they have to, go ahead and let them. We do have enough in stock to replace missile usage… to an extent,” he finished warningly.
“Got, cap’n.” Hamil replied, already busy tapping away at a comp pad.
Mad, tearing her eyes away from the still burning pirates, cocked her head, then smiled brightly.
“I can kill anyone or anything I think is suspicious?”
“Sure. Knock yourself out,” said Bloody Jack, getting up.
Mad clapped her hands and laughed.
“Ooh, this is going to be fun!”
Ignoring her, Bloody Jack strode out of the room. Once he was safely away, he allowed himself a smile.
Up until now, things had been pretty much going the pirates; way. But now, with the arrival of the Marines, the loss of a good number of pirates, and the destruction of three gunboats…
Things were finally starting to go according to plan.
Chapter Six
A week had passed.
During that week the guerrillas ran various missions, some which ended in success, others poorly, and most in the middle. After that first mass attack, most of the missions had been on a one-by-one basis, which at least removed the possibility of a major disaster, but also slowed the pace of things.
Another problem had been the pirates’ gunboats. They would occasionally locate a guerrilla team, and attempt to wipe it out. Often, they’d succeed. Of course, the gunboats had taken losses too. Two more Blastfires had been shot down, and several others damaged.
Overall, it was hard to say that the guerrillas were making any serious progress though. Indeed, that was what Frank and Captain Fil’dwis were discussing. Despite their disastrous first mission, they had done a few more together, and become quite friendly.
“…so they lost a good few men trying to catch up. By the time we managed to lose them, there wasn’t much of them left to lose.”
“Heh. Good one.” Frank raised his cup in appreciation.
They both took a drink.
“Things overall haven’t been going so well though,” Frank commented, tone getting slightly dark.
“Yeah,” Captain Fil’dwis said, sobering as well. “Despite my team being reinforced several times, I still have less men than I started with. Fourteen men ain’t much.”
“Your sergeant, uh, …Driver? How’s she doing?”
“Dri’ver?” the captain automatically corrected. “Yes, she’s fine. More or less. Got hit by a bullet a couple of days ago. Won’t be back on duty for another two days.” He brooded over that, and took another swig.
Frank drank himself, then said, “The whole situation isn’t going too well, Tom. I’ve lost several more Marines, including Sergeant Lovel, of my third squad.” Actually, he had lost most of third squad, only two Marines and the corporal remaining. Third squad had been sent out on a night stealth mission, and had, through bad luck, been surprised by a pair of gunboats.
There had only been four survivors, and the one of those had died in medical. In total, the Marines had lost eighteen men since the start of their ill-fated mission.
“And we’re getting it even worse,” Tom said gloomily. “Last I heard we’ve lost nearly five hundred men. That’s over a fourth our forces. Nearer a third.”
Giving a nod, Frank considered the situation.
The general’s forces, at the start, had numbered seventeen hundred or so. The Marines added another sixty, although their capabilities meant that they were worth far more than just another platoon.
The pirates, however, numbered around three thousand, from when they had landed on Kzarch. They had supposedly lost six hundred or so, although Frank was careful not to rely too much on those numbers.
Not only that, but they still had nine gunboats left, plus three starships they had yet to put into play. Of course, if they knew what they were doing, they probably wouldn’t. Spaceships were just really large, slow targets in ground combat, and the pirates still might need them as a space patrol, or to flee.
The only target it would make any sense at all to use them against was the guerrillas’ main base, but the ‘headquarters’ were fairly well defended, including a good supply of missiles and entrenched launchers.
This created a slightly odd situation, for a guerrilla style war, wherein both forces knew where the other’s main site was, but couldn’t attack it without worrying they’d lose.
If only the guerrillas had some gunboats, Frank actually would have felt things weren’t too bad, but they didn’t. The only gunboats on the planet, besides those of the pirates, had been destroyed in the pirates’ surprise attack.
And without air support, the guerrillas kept getting in trouble. Especially now that the pirates were being more careful with their gunboats. They hadn’t lost one in the last four days.
The situation, as he had already said, just wasn’t favoring the guerrillas. They were losing too many men, for too little effect.
Moodily, he downed another cup of beer, vaguely noting he needed to stop soon. It wouldn’t be good to start getting drunk.
“What were you doing before you got into this mess?” Tom asked, in an attempt to divert the conversation. Apparently, he had been thinking things over too.
“What do you mean? Before I came here?”
“Were you on leave? Or were you assigned here immediately after another deployment?”
“Oh, no. Well, not exactly; I was ordered here after a week of leave, but before that, I was on a standard assignment. No action, just a guard duty sort of thing.”
“Have you seen much action in you time in the Marines?”
Frank laughed, perhaps a trifle on the sour side.
“Not really. I’ve seen more combat here than I have in all three previous years I’ve been in the Marines. Actually,” the lieutenant admitted, “I’ve only been in action twice before I came to Kzarch. Neither were even major battles. One was a light skirmish with pirates, nothing like this, and the other was just a brush with nutjobs.”
“Nutjobs?”
“Don’t ask.” Frank rolled his eyes.
“What about your family? Where are you from?”
“I’m from Emerald, a farming planet, more or less. Family? Well, last I heard they were doing fine. I’m the oldest of three, by a few years. My younger brother’s still in college, and my sister’s just graduated from high school, I think. If I got the dates worked out right…”
“Oldest? Heh, you’re lucky. I was the middle one of my family. Of five.”
“You lived here all your life?”
“Yeah. Visited some other planets when I was younger, but found I wasn’t much interested in traveling. ”
“You traveled as a tourist?”
“Nah, took a job as a ship worker. Then I came back here, started a business.”
“So being in the military wasn’t your first choice.” The captain chuckled.
“Actually, I’m only a reservist.”
“Really?” Frank was genuinely surprised. Considering how good Tom was at his job…
“Yeah. Joined soon after I came back, then quit to start a business, like I said. Only re-enlisted when the pirates showed up. The general knew me, so he promoted me and put me in charge of a team. I’ve been running missions ever since.”
“Huh. Tell me, since you said you knew the general; what’s he really like? I mean, although we’re working together, I can’t say I actually know him…”
“I didn’t mean I know him well…” Tom protested. “I just served directly under him for a bit. Honestly, I was a trifle surprised he remembered me at all.”
“Still, you know him better than I do. Tell me what you can about what makes him tick.”
Captain Fil’d
wis hesitated.
“You have to understand…” he began slowly, “I don’t really mix much with Kzarch’s First Family.”
“First family?”
“That’s what they call themselves. They’re descended from the first family here, so… Anyway, the thing is, they dominate the Kzarch’s government. Always have. Probably always will Every governor we’ve had has always been one of them.” Frank repressed a wince. He knew such things weren’t uncommon on the more backwards planets, but still…
“Even the other important positions are usually filled by ‘em. It’s pretty rare we get someone who isn’t from the First Family in charge of anything really important. Thing is, the general, he wanted to be on the top. He was a grand-nephew of the previous governor, and figured he was the best choice once the previous guy died. But instead, the former governor’s son was chosen, his uncle. He, ah… wasn’t too happy about it.”
“So he’s ambitious. And had his ambition frustrated?”
“Bingo. Actually, I’d guess that one of the reasons he’s been running this whole show, the guerrilla thing, I mean, is because he figures that when the pirates get kicked out of here, he’ll be put in charge. Or something.”
“I see.” In his mind, Frank frowned. He didn’t really approve of the general’s ambitions, though, to be fair, he didn’t like politics regardless. Then he gave a shrug, and downed another cup.
Not his problem, although he did rather sympathize with the Kzarchians, who apparently had their government chosen for them.
Then he stood up.
“I think I’d better stop here, before I get drunk. You coming?”
“No, I have something else to do.”
“Oh? You got a date?”
Tom snorted, but looked uncomfortable.
Laughing, Frank waved and headed out of the makeshift bar, back to his platoon.
Chapter Seven
Cursing to himself, Frank lifted himself off the ground.
“Lieutenant?” the guerrilla captain asked cautiously.
“I’m fine,” the Marine snapped. “Let’s go. We’re already behind schedule.”