by E. G. Castle
Things weren’t looking good. His group, barely numbering just over two hundred, were tired, hurt, low on ammunition, and pretty much only barely capable of moving forward. A major battle was almost certainly beyond them. Frank himself had almost completely run through his battlesuit’s power a while back. The only reason he was still wearing it was for the extra armor and still barely working com systems; and because they had drilled it into every Marine at bootcamp not to leave their battlesuit behind.
In any case, Frank wasn’t sure he had the energy to take it off, even if he wanted to.
Back on the situation, the lieutenant tried to think of something to do. There wasn’t much. His force’s capabilities and options were simply too limited.
With a tired shrug, he gave up.
“Peop-” He stopped to cough, then began again.
“People, form a defensive line! We can’t outrun them anymore, so the best we can to is to take some of them with us!” His voice was tired and weaker than he’d prefer. But the order was heard and passed along to those who hadn’t heard it.
Wearied and exhausted, the Kzarchians and Marines tiredly formed their defensive line, taking cover where they could, and doing their best to make sure their weapons were loaded and ready.
Frank had run out of his pistol’s ammunition long ago, and so now was using an energy rifle from a dead Kzarchian. He mechanically checked it while kneeling behind a tree, mind fuzzily wondering how long it would take for them to be overrun.
Already he could here the pirates closing in, the noise as they shoved their way through the forest, and gunshots as they fired…
Wait, gunshots?
Raising his head, Frank looked around.
No, bullets of either the physical or energy type weren’t going through the group’s position… What was going on?
Around him, the lieutenant saw some of the others looking around too, but most of the Kzarchians and Marines were too tired to pay much attention.
The gunshots were growing more rapid, and Frank could hear the sounds of combat crashing through the forest; a mix of screams, yells, bangs, and just plain sound, from the cacophony of it all.
Then pirates began to appear, and there was no longer any time for wondering.
Despite it being a borrowed, unfamiliar weapon, Frank managed to take down the first pirate he saw in a quick double shot.
Then the battle became more general, too many people running around and firing their weapons to really keep track of things, such as whether the person targeted had actually gone down.
In his mind, Frank could tell something was odd though.
But he couldn’t quite put his mental finger on it…
Abruptly, there were no more pirates.
“What’s… What’s going on?” a Kzarchian panted near the lieutenant, favoring a wounded left arm and leg.
Shrugging, Frank badly wished his battlesuit was up and running. With out his sensors, he felt near blind.
“Sir!” Sergeant Javer’s voice came over the com, sounding unaccustomedly animated. “The base-”
“Frank? This is Colonel Fil’dwis. Are you all right?! Our sensors are saying your battlesuit’s dead, but that you’re still alive. What’s the hell going on with you and your group?!”
“Colonel? Tom?! What are you doing here?”
“When we received your message, I organized the troops we had in the camp. We sent them out slowly, in small groups so they wouldn’t be noticed. We would’ve hit the pirates ten minutes ago, but we needed to spend a couple of minutes concentrating. How’s your group doing? Our sensors may be malfunctioning; it looks like you’ve only got about two hundred left…” His voice trailed off hopefully.
“There are only two hundred left,” said Frank grimly. There was a crushed silence on the other side of the line.
Then the lieutenant continued in a lighter tone.
“Thanks for the save though, Tom. I genuinely thought we were finally done for.”
“What happened? Your report wasn’t very clear. Even accounting for the fact it was having to punch through the pirates’ jamming, it was a muddle.”
“Yeah, well…” Frank grimaced. He had sent out a report a while back, once they had gotten far enough away from the governor’s mansion. However, he had done so while in middle of a firefight, so its legibility had probably been low.
“I was occupied with getting shot at. And shooting back. I was busy, alright?”
Tom snorted.
“Fine. But you’re going to need to make a proper report. And anyway, where are all the colonels? I’m not seeing any of them on the com channel…”
Squinting, Frank saw people approaching, the Kzarchian reinforcements. Around him, tired cheers began to ring out, a temporary counterpart to the screams of pain from the wounded.
“Yeah, they’re all dead.”
Colonel Fil’dwis digested that for a second, as he finally appeared, striding up to Frank.
“All of them?” he inquired, his voice having an echo effect through the com, until he shut it off.
“Yeah. Some survived the first couple of ambushes, but by now…” Lieutenant Harsmith shook his head, then suddenly grabbed onto the tree he had been behind, to prevent himself from falling.
“Anyway, how’s the rest of the battle going?”
“The pirates are pretty much on the run, actually. You guys may have had it worse, but they’ve also been hiking and fighting for the last couple of hours. When they got hit by our surprise attack, they began collapsing. If we could only have hit them a bit earlier, you wouldn’t have even gotten that last attack. Trust me, they’re done… For today, at any rate.”
“Good.” Frank then proceeded to collapse the ground.
“Frank? Frank?! FRANK! Dammit, we need a medic here! NOW!”
Chapter Thirteen
“So. That’s what happened.” The remaining commanders of the Kzarchian forces stared at him. Of course, they knew it had been bad. The mere fact that the Kzarchian force had been reduced from six hundred to two hundred, and the Marines from thirty-seven to twenty-one, attested to how terrible it had been.
But to hear about it from someone who had been through it all, from the person who had commanded the forces through most of the battle, who had his own right arm blown of, and who nearly died at the end…
“My god,” muttered one of the colonels at the far end, an elderly man who had been restricted to desk duty since before the pirate invasion started. “It must have been like a living hell!”
“It was.”
There was another silence.
Then Frank said, “May I ask again where the general is?”
One of the colonels shook his head.
“We don’t know where he is. The last we heard from him was a message he had left saying he was off to take care of something private. I’m thinking he was waiting somewhere until you came back, and when he heard about the disaster, stayed there to think things over.”
That didn’t really sound like the general, but no-one else had any better idea.
“Well, he’d better show up soon,” one of the colonels said cantankerously, another old desk-rider. “If he doesn’t, we’re going to be in one damn mess.”
“Why? It’s hardly like the pirates are likely to do anything-”
“Just because they lost men too? Ha! Their bloody pirates. Why would they care if some of their own died? It just means a bigger share of loot to them.”
“Regardless, we’ve been hit hard. I don’t think we’re going to be ready for anything major for at least a week.”
“Yeah? And you think the pirates are just going to do nothin’? We’ve got to prepare!”
“That’s right! We should strike them now! When they’re not expecting-”
“That’s a terrible idea. We just lost four hundred men! And half of the remaining Marines! We’re in no shape for-”
The table devolved into an argument, two colonels favoring action of some kin
d, the other three wanting to wait for a while and get things back in order.
“Sirs?”
They turned towards him. Before they could say anything Lieutenant Harsmith continued.
“Sirs, I think we have an obvious problem that needs to be addressed.”
They stared at him for a second. Then Colonel Fil’dwis said suddenly, “The spy.”
“Exactly. They knew we were coming. Before we do anything else, we need to consider how to deal with him, and do it. Fast.”
“Hmm…” One of the colonels tapped thoughtfully on the table. “We know he, whoever he is, somehow managed to get information past all our efforts to shut down the camp. Based on the way the pirates were so perfectly positioned, it’s the only logical conclusion.”
“That doesn’t really help to figure out who it is,” a different colonel said tiredly. “And that’s the real issue.”
“But if we could figure out how he’s doing it we could at least prevent him from getting information out. Otherwise, everything we decide is going to go right to the pirates.”
“At minimum, we should put in some more security measures,” Tom said, leaning forward.
“Yeah, sure. But for all we know, the pirates may have the camp thoroughly bugged.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. We clean the base every day.”
“If there’s a spy though, he could pick the device up before we could spot it, and place it back afterwards!” the first one argued.
“That’s an excellent point,” a different colonel said. “Why don’t we start having random sweeps? That’ll make it harder for the spy to try that trick.”
To this there was a general agreement.
But not for much else.
When, an hour later, the meeting ended, very little had been decided. Honestly, Frank felt that until the general popped back up, not much was going to be resolved. Say what you would about him, General Val’gor made sure things got done. And where was he anyway…?
“Lieutenant!”
“Eh? Oh, Tom.”
“What are you doing walking around?” the colonel demanded, striding up. “You were supposed to return to medical as soon as the meeting ended.”
“I was just going to get a stiff drink first. I need one, especially after that meeting.”
Snorting, Tom fell in with him as they entered a bar.
“Can’t argue with that. But then it’s right to medical with you!”
“Yeah, yeah, nanny.”
“Oh, shut up. Fred! Two mugs of beer!”
Two mugs of beer were promptly delivered.
Both officers sitting, they spent the next few moments in the quiet appreciation of a cold drink.
“How are the troops taking things?” Frank finally asked.
In answer, Tom gave a shrug and grimace.
“Yeah, I thought so.”
“It could have been worse,” the colonel said grumpily. “We’ve lost a lot, but so did the pirates. And you did manage to bring a third of our men back.” He then gave a sigh. “Even so the atmosphere in the camp going to be down for a while.”
“And it doesn’t help the general is still not showing up. Where is he?”
“Who knows…”
For several moments, they simply sat quietly, savoring their drinks.
“Tom?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any idea how the spy got his information out? You said you were looking into things.”
The colonel frowned.
“I wish I did. But the analysts have no idea how it was done. The entire camp has been sewed up tight since we first learned about the spy. A physical hand-off would be near impossible, all electronic sources of communications are being monitored or blocked… You’ll understand how desperate they are when none of the analysts laughed when one of them suggested the spy was sending messages by mirror flashing.”
They both chuckled.
“We really need to catch him though,” Frank said, sobering. “Another few more disasters like today, and we’ll be in real trouble.”
“Yeah… My condolences on the loss of your sergeant and men.” Colonel Fil’dwis said abruptly.
Frank didn’t say anything for a second.
“…Thanks.” Tom just nodded his head, knowing how the other was feeling.
Taking another drink, Frank found himself thinking of his platoon sergeant.
He and McKain had never been particularly close. But the sergeant had been a comrade, a good soldier, and a good man. If a grumpy one. McKain had supported him, and the lieutenant had relied heavily on him. On his experience and skills.
Without him, without his support, Lieutenant Harsmith actually felt a bit… lost.
His lips twitched at the thought, and he raised his mug to the memory of his former sergeant.
Hope you’re having a good time, McKain.
Then he drank.
“Sir? Colonel?” asked a person heading to their table.
“Sergeant Dri’ver? Yes?”
“The report you wanted, sir.” She handed a document over.
Frowning, Tom looked it over.
“Anything interesting? Or useful?” Frank asked.
Handing it back to the sergeant, Colonel Fil’dwis grimaced.
“I wish. No, it’s just another list of our available resources… what remains of them.”
The lieutenant winced. With all the fighting the Kzarchians had been doing, and without easy ways to resupply, they must be running seriously low.
“Sergeant Dri’ver, if you would please escort the lieutenant to medical.”
Frank started.
“What?”
“You’re almost done your drink, and you said-”
“I can take care of myself!”
“Frank, you’re getting wobbly again.”
He was. A tiring hour or so, the remaining effects of his wounds, and most of a mug of beer had all worked together to make him dizzy.
“But-”
Tom looked at him.
Frank gave up.
“All right,” he said grumpily. Swigging down what remained of his beer, Frank attempted to stand. Off-balance, and with only one hand, he found it a bit tricky to accomplish.
“Come on, sergeant. Time for you to embark on a most important and dangerous guarding mission,” he said sarcastically. Heading for the door, Frank managed to get there without falling, although he did grab the doorknob rather quickly.
“Do you need some help, sir?”
“No.” he said shortly.
As he made his way across the camp, occasionally grabbing things to steady himself, he asked the sergeant, more as a distraction than anything else, “So you’re still with Tom?”
The sergeant’s face was carefully blank.
“Sir?”
“What exactly do you do for him these days? He’s not running much missions anymore, as a colonel.”
“…I help him with the paperwork, mostly.”
“You mean you’re his secretary,” Frank chuckled.
“Yes, sir.” she said stiffly.
By this time they were near medical.
“You can leave now, sergeant. I’ll make it from here.”
“The colonel said I was supposed to escort you to medical.”
“And you did. So you can go now.”
Despite his urging, she remained with him until he was inside, and in the hands of the doctors there.
***
There was a heavy silence around the table, as everyone wondered who Bloody Jack was going to blame for the disaster this time.
The pirate chief himself was simply sitting and waiting, as he had done since the meeting started, five minutes ago.
He knew someone would break sooner or later.
Finally a pirate leaned forward, speaking in a slightly nasal whine.
“Look, we-”
Bloody Jack shot him.
As the former pirate was burning to death, the pirate captain asked pleasa
ntly, “Would anyone else like to offer excuses, like Mr. Hands?”
There was silence.
“Excellent. In that case, we can proceed. Hamil, would you like to explain exactly what happened?”
In a carefully neutral voice, the pirate said, “We got information on their attack and set up an ambush. They walked into it, and we pushed them around until we had them surrounded. Managing to break out, they tried to escape while we attempted to enfold them into a pincer maneuver. The Marines held us back long enough for the Kzarchians to escape. We chased them, until they used a sacrificial blocking force. We killed them all, but the extra distance the Kzarchians had managed to get allowed them to get most of the way to their camp with us only able to launch small attacks. We were about to finally fall upon them, when we met an unexpected counter-attack from their camp. We, ah, fell back. Then we returned to the governor’s mansion.”
“And tell me,” Bloody Jack said idly. “How many did we kill?”
“About four hundred. Over two-thirds of their force, and half of the Marines.”
“And how many of us died?” The pirate chief’s voice was still idle.
“…Nearly seven hundred.”
“Would you like to explain how we lost more than they did, despite being the ones to set the trap?”
Hamil kept silent, knowing his life was on the line. Letting the silence stretch out, Bloody Jack tapped lightly on the table.
No-one said anything.
“Okay,” Bloody Jack finally said. “We didn’t quite accomplish what we wanted. But we dealt the Kzarchians a heavy defeat, and they know it. And I’m thinking we should capitalize on it.”
“Do what?” one of the pirate captains cautiously asked.
“Capitalize on it. Their morale has undoubtedly taken a severe blow. And considering their losses, we now have an excellent chance to finish them off.”
“How?”
“I’ve previously had Mad set up a plan for a mass attack on their base. Now is an excellent time to use it. We’ll gather all our forces, and using-” Bloody Jack noticed everyone around the table was looking uncomfortable.
“What?” he demanded.
“Captain Bloody Jack, we don’t… We don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“What are you talking about?” the pirate chieftain said ominously.