by E. G. Castle
“But at least he’ll survive.”
“Yeah.”
“Where is he now?” Turning, Frank looked in the direction of the general’s quarters, and saw the door and the wall it was in were deformed.
“The energy blast reached all the way here?”
“General Val’gor’s quarters are just down a hall,” Colonel Fil’dwis pointed out. “And I think the general is resting at the moment; in medical.”
“Should I-”
“I don’t think he’s ready for visitors.”
At that point, there was a commotion by the planning room’s main door.
“What’s- General!”
Limping slowly, using a crutch, General Juan made his way into the room.
“Get back!” a doctor snarled, as the guerrilla commanders attempted to approach. “The general is not to be bothered! He shouldn’t even be here!”
“Calm yourself, doctor,” the general got out, in a close approximation of his usual voice, though with hints of ragged agony in his voice. “They only wish to talk to me, not attack me.”
“I’d say you can hardly be sure of that, general! Not after the bomb.” he added meaningfully.
“True, doctor. But nonetheless…”
The general sat himself at the table, wincing as he did so. He looked around.
“Well, sit down.” he ordered dryly. The commanders did so, while the others moved back a bit.
Beginning to speak, tone heavy, General Juan said, “As you all know by now, I -we- have been attacked… By one of our own.” He gave a thin smile, then dropped it with a wince.
“I suppose it was inevitable. Presumably, the pirate located someone who was willing to sell us out, and convinced him to place the bomb.” Pausing for a second, he shook his head.
“In any case, what’s done is done. The only thing we can now do is to find the traitor, and at the same time, proceed with our plans to drive the pirates from our planet.”
A growl of agreement sounded around the table.
“As far as finding the traitor goes, I want everyone to keep their eyes open. Undoubtedly, the traitor will, ah, ‘betray’ himself. As long as we’re paying attention, we should be able to catch him.” He waited a second as the commanders murmured to themselves.
“Now then, I think we need to discuss the next mission we had planned, the one against the supply compound near the governor’s mansion.”
Everyone leaned forward, tensing slightly. Was the general going to call the attack off?
“I feel we must proceed with it, as soon as possible.” The tension in the room only rose, if for a different reason.
“Of course, in the shape I’m in, I will be unable to participate; unless we were to put it off for at least a week. Obviously not an acceptable option.”
“Therefore, I appoint in my stead Colonel John’son. Colonel, I charge you with arranging and completing the mission.”
“Yes, sir.” A rather nondescript commander nodded his head importantly.
“However… Your force will be far smaller than originally planned. You will only use a two hundred-fifty men.”
“May I ask why…?” said the colonel carefully.
“Because instead, all the Marines will be sent. I feel that a quicker, smaller, but just as powerful force will be the most effective means for accomplishing the mission.”
There was a moment of silence, then everyone began talking, Frank only not joining them because he want to carefully consider what to say.
“Sir,” he finally said, talking loudly enough to override the others, who fell silent as he spoke, “I don’t quite understand. The plan called for two-thirds of my Marines to be used in the first place. I frankly don’t see how adding the additional third will make up for the numbers you plan on taking out of Colonel Johnson’s forces.”
General Juan frowned.
“Lieutenant, your platoon would be far more effective for this sort of heavy raiding attack, considering how it will have to operate under stealth as much as possible. As well, they’ll be far more capable of extracting themselves if something goes wrong.”
“That’s true sir, but without the additional forces, my Marines would simply be killed. We need the support of your troops, general, or we’ll only be overwhelmed. Even if I had a full platoon it would be problematic, and at this point, I only have about forty left. And most of them have battlesuits that are no longer in perfect working order. I must therefore respectively refuse your suggestion, sir.” Around the table, breaths were held. The lieutenant was refusing an order? Technically, he wasn’t under the general’s command, but…
Still frowning, the general didn’t say anything, allowing Colonel Fil’dwis to break in.
“Sir, I have to agree. The Marines, even with the support of a battalion, aren’t going to be able to accomplish the mission.” Looking around, General Juan saw that most his commanders agreed.
His frown deepened, then his eyes closed for a second, as if making a hard decision.
“Very well,” he finally said. “Colonel John’son shall have six hundred men. With the addition of the Marines, I believe that shall be sufficient? Lieutenant?” His tone bordered on sarcastic.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Colonel John’son, you are to execute the plan in twenty-four hours.” There was an instant of shock, then everyone started speaking at once.
“General, I don’t-
“-too short of-”
“-we can do it!”
“Sir, I worry something-”
“General, I can’t guarantee such a short time will be suffic-”
“Sir, I must protest!”
“SILENCE!” General Juan boomed out. For a second some people continued talking, before falling silent under his glare.
“There will be no argument on this! The attack will proceed as ordered!” Everyone stayed quiet, avoiding each others’ eyes.
Finally, Lieutenant Harsmith spoke up, as the only one not technically under the general’s command.
“Sir, it’ll be chancy.”
The general said nothing, simply cocked an eyebrow.
Not fooled by the general’s apparent quiescence, Frank continued carefully.
“General, it’s going to be a hard, difficult mission. Chances of something going wrong, even catastrophically wrong, are high. If we don’t plan things carefully, things will be even worse.”
“That is true, lieutenant…” General Val’gor said slowly, “But nonetheless, the attack must proceed. Besides, we’ve been planning for it already, so it is not like the mission will be started without preparation. And the pirates are off-balance at the moment; their attack on me seems to be proof of that-”
Not a proof all the commanders agreed with; certainly not Frank himself.
“-plus they’ve lost a considerable amount of their forces, both of men, materials, and supplies.”
This, no-one could dispute. Indeed, several of them developed thoughtful looks.
“If we can strike them one or two hard blows, we may finally be able to crush them. On the other hand, realizing that they’re in a bad position, it is entirely likely they will attempt some sort of extreme tactic. Should they do so, and succeed… Our situation may well turn for the worse. I simply feel now, after having been a victim of an internal attack that I would never have believed they could pull off, that we cannot afford to wait.”
There was considerable muttering, but no-one disagreed.
“Are there any further points of consideration?”
“Actually, general,” Colonel Fil’dwis said. “What happens if the pirates get wind of what were planning? We know now that they have a spy in the camp.” The general nodded thoughtfully.
“I’ve already taken care of that. I’ve ordered that the base be fully locked down, with no other communication than what I myself allow.” He gave a grim smile.
“Actually, the spy makes it all the more imperative to get the attack off as soon as possi
ble. If he told the pirates about it, undoubtedly they’ll start preparing, but they won’t be expecting it for another couple of days. If we strike now…” Around the table, nods quickly caught on. Some were more cautious than others though.
Looking around, the general saw they had come around to his point of view. At least to the extent that they’d obey orders. Standing up, he said, “This may be one of the last campaigns of this war; so I need all of you to do your best. Victory for Kzarch!” Aside from the lieutenant, everyone repeated the general’s last sentence.
“Victory for Kzarch!”
***
“I don’t know…” The platoon sergeant was dubious.
“Why not?”
“Sir, it’s… I don’t like the idea of kicking off such a major operation without sufficient planning.”
“We have another twenty hours or so. And besides, we’ve been planning it for a while.”
“Not enough, sir. Of either.”
The lieutenant’s lips thinned, then he shrugged.
“All right, I can’t disagree. But considering the situation…”
This time it was the sergeant’s turn to shrug.
“True. But I still don’t like it.”
“Be that as it may, we need to get the platoon ready. With Lex’s battlesuit still damaged, and his arm out, I was thinking…”
The two spent some time going over things, making sure that everything was organized, and ready to go.
They were just about finished, when a messenger popped up.
“Lieutenant Harsmith?”
“Yes?”
“The general wants to see you… sir.” The messenger, barely more than a boy, only just managed to remember to add the ‘sir’.
“Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” He turned back to the paper he and McKain had been writing on, to finish sorting out the arrangements for the platoon.
The messenger stared, scandalized.
“The general wants to see you now!” he said in outrage. “How could you-”
McKain gave him a look.
The messenger’s mouth shut, and he suddenly looked as if he wished he had never opened it up in the first place.
“The general is wise enough to know,” the sergeant growled, “-that we need to take care of our own duties. And that a few minutes won’t matter.”
“Y-yessir!”
“I’m not a ‘sir’, I’m a sergeant!”
“Yes, sergeant!” The young man clumsily saluted, then turned and almost ran to get away.
Frank chuckled.
“Ah, if only I could be so intimidating.”
McKain snorted, but said nothing.
A minute or two later, after finishing with his sergeant, Frank headed to the medical wing. There, he found the general resting in a large chair. Despite the comfy seat, the general didn’t look in the slightest comfortable.
“Sir? You called for me?”
“Yes, I did, lieutenant.” The general shifted slightly, trying to avoid having his wounds touch the chair.
“I wanted to hear about your platoon. What sort of state is it in?”
“Currently, sir, I have nearly forty effectives. Some of their battlesuits maybe be damaged, and we are starting to have ammunition issues, but overall, I can field thirty-five Marines in fair condition.” General Juan nodded.
“And your wounded?”
“All three are getting better. Corporal Gordon and Lex are coming along a bit slowly, but…”
“I see. And will they be participating in the supply compound mission?”
The lieutenant blinked.
“Sir…?” he said slowly. “I don’t- That is, I doubt it.”
Frowning, the general shifted again.
“Lieutenant, we’re going to need every single Marine, hurt or not.”
“I understand that, general, but they aren’t really in any shape to do a mission.”
“We’re going to need them,” the general repeated.
Frank’s lips tightened.
“General, I can see your point. But they aren’t going to available.”
“Lieutenant, whether they’re fully healed or not, they need to go.”
“General, they do not.”
In middle of shifting, General Val’gor suddenly stilled.
“Are you contradicting me, lieutenant?” he said coldly.
Frank eyed him for a moment, but said nothing.
“Well?”
“If you’re wrong, general, you’re wrong,” the lieutenant said steadfastly. “Those Marines will not-”
“Lieutenant.” The general held up his hand, taking a different tack. “I understand you’re concerned for your men. But this is going to be the most important mission we’ve run. We need every one of your Marines. Every last one. Even if only as walking sensors, we’re going to need them. Is that clear?” The general’s tone, despite his strong words, was surprisingly reasonable.
Frank was still unhappy.
“Sir, having walking wounded is going to be a problem. Simply the morale situation-”
“It doesn’t matter. This mission, once done, should hopefully bring the end in sight.”
“We could just wait for the-”
“Reinforcements? That assumes the pirates don’t swamp us by then. I’ve gotten some recent information that they’ve been planning a major attack.”
“Here? But our defenses-”
“Are powerful. And yet, they apparently think they can get through them. I want to hit them and do it hard, before they can do anything like that. Once they’re off-balance, we can probably wait for the reinforcements; or finish them off ourselves.”
“But general-”
“Enough. Get your men ready for tomorrow. All of them.” There was a clear note of dismissal in his tone.
Frank thought for a second, then drew himself up slightly.
“Sir,” he began formally. “I will attempt to do as you ask. However, Corporal Gordon will not be available.”
“No?”
“No. He can’t walk, sir. His legs got blown off.”
“True. Very well, skip him. But get everyone else!”
The lieutenant simply saluted, then marched, no, stormed out.
For several minutes, he strode around fiercely, not paying attention to anything. As he did so, he fiercely raged in his mind against the general and his demands.
Demands, not orders; and that just made things worse.
Technically, Frank could have refused to obey. While according to standard procedure the general out-ranked him and was in command, they were still in two completely different branches of the United Federation’s military, if that was even the right way in describing the exceedingly distant relationship between the two. If he had chosen to, he could have used that to refuse the general’s demands.
But that would have been problematic.
It would have caused a dangerous, sticky situation. And with the platoon and Kzarchians about to launch a major mission, issues had to be avoided at all costs.
Cooling down slightly, Frank changed direction and headed to the platoon’s barracks. He’d better talk this over with Sergeant McKain.
Frank found the platoon sergeant working on his armor.
“McKain?”
“One sec,” he grunted.
The lieutenant waited as the sergeant finished buffing away a small, nearly invisible burn mark. Looking at his work, McKain grunted again, and buffed it some more. Then he stood up, and turned to Frank.
“Sir?”
“The general has a new order for us…” Frank began.
When he finished, several minutes later, the sergeant was pursing his lips.
Surprisingly, he was less worried than the lieutenant had expected.
“Hmm. Alright, I’ll make sure Lex and Rose get full medical treatment, and have them prepped to go. You’re right about Gordon though,” the sergeant said. “He won’t be back on his feet for at least a few days.”
&
nbsp; McKain noticed the lieutenant staring at him.
“What?”
“But- It’s- You’re not supposed to take injured troops into combat!” Frank finally sputtered out.
The platoon sergeant shrugged.
“That’s not even a regulation,” he pointed out.
“Well, no, but in the academy they pounded it in that-”
“Yeah, sure. In the field though, you gotta do what you gotta do. Usually, we just wait until an injured Marine is back to full health, but if we can’t, we can’t.”
“But-”
“Actually, commanders are just spoiled by the medical care available today,” McKain continued thoughtfully, his dour voice taking on a lecturing tone. “In the old days back on Earth, they used to send soldiers into battle even if they were seriously injured. As long as they could walk and wield a weapon, they went. Of course, it didn’t happen all the time… But often enough, soldiers would go into battle with a broken hand, or with a bullet inside, while sick, and so forth… It’ll be hard, but the Marines will handle it,” the platoon sergeant finished.
“I… see. But I still don’t like it.”
“It’s not a question of liking it.”
Shrugging, Frank decided he wasn’t going to get anywhere arguing the point.
“All right. In that case, I’ll just let you take care of things.”
“Yessir.” The sergeant saluted.
“But I did want to ask, do you think we’re going to need them?”
McKain hesitated.
“I… don’t know. Objectively, having two more Marines shouldn’t make too much of a difference… But it’s impossible to foresee what, if any, effect they’ll have. If things go south, they might really be necessary.”
It was no ringing endorsement, but Frank found the sergeant’s analysis at least of some small comfort; in that it gave him something of an excuse for doing what he really didn’t want to do.
“Fair enough. I’m going to go check in on medical, see how they’re doing. Take care of things here, sergeant.”
“Yessir.”
As the lieutenant left, the sergeant gave a small shake of his head. The lieutenant wasn’t actually a bad officer, but, boy was he sometimes green!
***
After checking on his men, Frank headed over to the camp’s main bar. There, he grabbed a drink and sat in the back, nursing it.