Invasion of Kzarch

by E. G. Castle

  But it looked like he wasn’t going to be escaping that way.

  Still cursing, the pirate lunged out of the room.

  ***

  “-st wall! I shot two beams in, but I’m pretty sure I missed.”

  He really is a tricky one, Frank thought, stopping for a moment to think.

  Where would the pirate go now?

  “Everyone, keep an eye out,” he finally ordered, resuming his way. “Don’t rely on your sensors. Expect him to try to pull something crafty; he’s getting cornered.”

  Several halls and wrong turns later, the lieutenant found himself at the large hole in the mansion again.

  “Oh, for-” Then his sensors picked up something.

  “What the…” The contact was flickering, only barely being detected. Then Frank realized what it was coming from, a moment before another flame bolt headed his way.

  Immediately, Frank threw himself backwards, and onto the floor. Just a foot from his nose, the flame bolt continued on its way down the corridor.

  “He’s here!” Frank sent, then rolled over, and tried to send a weg shot at the pirate above. The bolt missed, the pirate having already backed away.

  “You ain’t escaping again!” Frank shouted, making a frantic battlesuit-powered leap up to the other floor. It was only as he was almost there when it occurred to him that a direct route probably wasn’t the best idea… a moment too late.

  Another flame bolt speared out and smashed into him, and this time, he didn’t have shields to protect him.

  Burning, flames surrounding him, the lieutenant fell all the way to the basement floor. He smashed into it, although not as heavily as he would’ve expected.

  Moments later, when he blearily opened his eyes, Frank saw the pirate toss a grenade down- at him? No, at a part of the collapsed basement.

  “Wh-” Frank coughed weakly, the pain from his chest informing him he had several ribs broken. Then he realized his battlesuit was completely de-powered, it having used up the remnants of its power to try to slow him down and protect him from the impact at the end.

  Giving another dry cough, Frank winced as the grenade exploded. He tried to raise his left arm, but it was broken. And so was his ankle, it felt like.

  The pirate peering down ignored him. It was at that point, when Frank finally recognized him. The pirate who had started all the trouble. Who had invaded Kzarch. Who had killed most of his platoon, one way or another; and millions of Kzarchians. Bloody Jack.

  ***

  Staring at the hole his grenade had blown in the blockage, Bloody Jack nodded. It looked like he had managed to blast his way through. Good.

  Tapping a device on his belt, the pirate captain dropped down over the side, slowly sinking downwards.

  Peering hazily at him, Frank tried to raise his left arm, then remembered, from the sharp stab of pain, that it was injured, and that his battlesuit was out of power.

  His right hand scrabbled around for his pistol, which, since he had held it all the way down, only releasing it after the impact, wasn’t far away.

  Attracted to the motion, Bloody Jack went for his flamer, but Frank got his shot in first.

  It missed.

  Still, with it whizzing right passed him, Bloody Jack was forced to dive for cover, jumping in the air towards an open room. He twisted around and fired even as he landed.

  The flame bolt was already coming at him, but the lieutenant wasn’t going to miss this time. Carefully aiming, in the half-second before it hit, Frank pulled the trigger even as he was enveloped in flames.

  Just as Bloody Jack’s finger began to pull back again on the trigger, Frank’s pistol exby hit him dead center.

  The pirate’s entire chest exploded and sent blood and gore everywhere, making Bloody Jack live up to his nickname even in death. The force it blew him back into the room, the flame bolt heading aimlessly through the air, and Bloody Jack’s body, what remained of it, slammed to the floor.

  “Heh. Gotcha…” Frank whispered hoarsely.

  Then Frank’s hand involuntarily released his pistol and his arm dropped. He went completely limp; still covered in flames.

  Moments later, on the top floor, a Marine leaned out over the hole.

  “Lieutenant? Sir?” He could just barely make out the broken and burning figure down below.

  “Ah, sir? Oh, shit.” Jumping, the Marine floated down, landing heavily. Frank wasn’t the only one who had been running low on power.

  “Sir? Lieutenant Harsmith? Dammit!” he said involuntarily as he leaned over the lieutenant.

  “The lieutenant’s down, repeat, the lieutenant’s down!…”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Standing in the governor’s office, two days later, General Fil’dwis had just finished looking through a large stack of reports.

  Groaning, he stretched, wincing at the twinge from his left leg, and rubbed his eyes.

  “Sir?” Sergeant Dri’ver said as she entered the room.

  “Just going through things.” He paused, then continued, “Kzarch has taken a lot damage, over the last month or two. And it’s going to be a while before things get better.”

  “Yes, sir.” She was about to say something else, when Sergeant Kanova strode in.

  He came to attention, and offered a sharp salute to the general.

  “Sir, I have come to report that the platoon is back to full readiness.”

  “Thank you, sergeant.”

  “Yessir.”

  He stayed at attention.

  Eyebrows rising, General Fil’dwis asked, “Yes?”

  “Is the platoon going to be assigned to the clean-up? I mean, to hunt down the remaining pirates?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. Our regular forces should-”

  “Sir,” the sergeant interrupted, leaning forward slightly. “I understand you think that we Marines have done enough for Kzarch. Sacrificed… enough lives. But sir, it’s our job. I- The Marines really aren’t happy you’ve been leaving them out of the hunt.”

  “I… see.” the general said slowly. “Very well, I shall consider it.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And how is…?”

  “Getting better. His burns have finally started to fade away, and his bones have all been set and are healing. Basic injuries have mostly been taken care of by this point. But he’s still stuck in bed. He asked me to tell you that you owe him a beer.”

  “What?”

  “He said he figured he was owed at least that much, after taking out the pirate’s head honcho.”

  Tom let out an uncontrolled laugh.

  “Tell the lieutenant that when he gets better, he probably won’t have to buy a beer on Kzarch ever again! He or any other Marine, I’d say.”

  “Yes, sir!” With another snappy salute, the sergeant marched out.

  Still chuckling slightly, the general turned back to his work, Sergeant Dri’ver helping him. Then a messenger burst in.

  “Sir! We’ve detected- It’s the Marine reinforcements, sir!”

  “Ah. And just two days too late,” he commented witheringly.

  “Sir.” Sergeant Dri’ver said, somewhat reprovingly.

  “Right, sergeant. You, go tell Sergeant Kanova to get back here; he only left a minute ago. We’ll need him on hand to help greet the Marines. And com Lieutenant Harsmith- but tell him he’s ordered not to leave his bed! Move it!”

  “Yessir!”

  ***

  “Hello, lieutenant,” a Marine major said, surveying the bed and the person lying therein.

  Frank managed a rather shaky salute.

  “I’m Major Jameson, lieutenant.”

  “Lieutenant Harsmith. Nice to meet you, sir.”

  “Sorry we arrived so late, lieutenant,” the major said, sitting down in a nearby visitor’s chair.

  “Sir.” Frank said neutrally, laid back in his bed. A gray and glum air almost seemed to being oozing from him, holding a strong hint of bitterness as well. His time s
pent in recovery had given him a good while to think about all that had happened since the start of his ill-fated mission, to consider all the things that had gone wrong… Well, brood over them, more accurately.

  The major snorted.

  “Feeling resentful?”

  “A bit, sir. We did end up getting placed at the end of a rather long and flimsy limb. And I lost almost five-fifths of my platoon.” Indeed, only fourteen had survived, including him.

  “So? You think losses don’t happen in combat?”

  “Of course not, sir! But I lost so many… If we had known in the beginning-”

  Shaking his head, Major Jameson said, “‘Ifs’ and ‘ands’, lieutenant. You could do that to death. You completed your mission. Everything else is just window-dressing.”

  “Not to those who didn’t survive… Sir.”

  The officer shrugged.

  “No, not to them,” he allowed.

  For a minute, neither of them said anything.

  Then the major asked, “Would you like to hear why we finally came?”

  The lieutenant blinked.

  “I thought you were reinforcing due to standard procedure. After we didn’t report in for a month…”

  “Not quite. Oh, we probably would’ve been here in a week or two in any case, but the reason we actually came was that we finally got the damn distress message.”

  “What?”

  “The ship that the Kzarchians sent to call for us, the one that had the information you were supposed to get, broke down.”

  “What?!”

  The major smiled grimly.

  “Oh, yes. A day through the ship’s journey, its engines broke down. By the time it managed to fix them and limp to the nearest port, three weeks had already passed.”

  Frank let out a stream of curses, a trifle weakly, then sat back with a sigh.

  “Begging your pardon, sir.”

  “No need. That was the general reaction. At any rate, once base heard how bad the situation actually was, and that they hadn’t heard from you in a good while, which suggested that the worst may’ve happened, it hurriedly put together whatever and whoever was available, and sent us in at top speed. Of course, it turns out we weren’t necessary, so our rush was wasted.” The major shrugged.

  “Ah, well. Wouldn’t be the first time I was late to the dance.”

  Frank managed a chuckle.

  There was silence for a few seconds after that.

  “So,” Major Jameson said, “You’ll be happy to hear you’re probably going to get a medal from all this.”

  “What?!” Frank surged upright, then fell back heavily. “But I- I thought I was going to get a black mark on my record at best! I mean, I figured I’d probably be facing a court-martial!”

  “Why would you think that?” the major frowned.

  “I lost four-fifths of my men! And made so many stupid mistakes, too. We only barely managed to beat the pirates at all. If they had been proper troops-”

  Shaking his head, the major interrupted.

  “Your job is only to do the best you can, lieutenant,” he began severely, “Not-”

  “Best? Best?!” Frank snorted. “If this is my best, then I’d hate to see my worst.”

  Major James frowned at him.

  “Lieutenant,” he said sternly, coldly, “Listen to what I’m saying. You are a Marine, and an officer. Losing men and comrades is part of the life you’ve chosen. Is that clear?”

  “But-”

  “Is that CLEAR?”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” Frank automatically said.

  “But you lost most of your platoon,” continued the major, before Frank could say anything. “And you don’t see how that isn’t a problem.”

  “Well, yes. It’s… How could losing almost all of my platoon be anything other than a court-martial offense?”

  Snorting, the major replied, “Usually, it should be and is!”

  Then he sobered.

  “But in this case, there’s no doubt you got stuck in a terrible situation. Stranded without help on an outworld? With only the planet’s militia to help you take on three ships’ full of pirates? Who had already seized control of the planet?” He shook his head.

  “It’s amazing enough that you managed to achieve a victory at all. No-one can blame you for what happened.”

  Then he grimaced.

  “Okay, that’s not completely true. But there’s always a few idiots. At any rate, I can assure you my report will stress the many difficulties you faced; and what you managed to accomplish despite the odds.”

  “Th-thank you, sir. But the real ones who managed to accomplish it, who managed to defeat the pirates, were my Marines and the Kzarchians, sir. I didn’t really end up doing much of anything, in the end.”

  The major laughed, and rose.

  “That’s what all officers think. The good ones, anyway. It’s curse of being the one in charge, but having to depend on everyone else to get things done.”

  He gave a sketchy salute, and said, “‘Bye for now. I have to go make sure my Marines aren’t causing more trouble.”

  “Sir? What-?”

  “They already burnt a bar down so far. And I think they’re looking to add to their score,” Major Jameson said, shaking his head. “This is what happens when they don’t get action. See you later, lieutenant.” With a sharp about-face, the major left the room.

  ***

  “Frank! You’re finally out of medical?” Tom waved, seeing him approaching.

  “Not really.” Frank rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, gesturing slightly with his crutch.

  “They only let me out because I kept complaining. I don’t know… What, do they think I’m an invalid or something? They act as if I’m on my death bed!”

  “When you were brought in, you nearly were.”

  Sudden uncomfortable, at the mention of his near brush with the final darkness, Frank shrugged.

  “Yeah, well… It’s been a week already. I’m feeling much better!”

  “Sure… And you’re probably just stumbling around with a crutch for the fun of it.”

  “Hardee-har. So tell me, how’s things going? The few reports I’ve seen say you’ve about finished the clean-up.” The two of them walked along, Frank carefully propelling himself with his crutches as they talked.

  “Yeah. Can’t be completely sure, of course, but I think we’ve gotten all the pirates. We’re still trying to figure out what to do with the ones we’ve captured.” General Fil’dwis grimaced.

  Frank didn’t have the slightest doubt.

  “Execute them.”

  “Oh, sure. But how? Some people favor a good old-fashioned hanging, others suggest burning in oil. One of my staffers raised a rather intriguing possibility: Tell me, have you ever heard of someone being pulled to death by wild horses?”

  “No, can’t say I have. But if you want to demonstrate it on some of the pirates, I’d be happy to learn all about it!”

  Both chuckled.

  “What does Major Jameson have to say about it?” Frank asked.

  “Nothing. He says it’s up to us what we do with them. After all the crimes they committed here, anything short of death by prolonged torture is perfectly acceptable.”

  “Ah. So then, what do you intend to do?”

  The general grunted.

  “Honestly, I’d like to kill them in the most inventive and painful ways possible,” he admitted. “But I’m probably just going to just wait until the next governor’s chosen, and hand it over to him.”

  “Can you wait that long? I mean, I’d imagine people want something done with them now. And besides-”

  “Yeah,” Tom interrupted, “I’m getting pressured into doing something. If it comes to it, I’ll probably just execute them quietly.”

  “Quietly? I don’t think most Kzarchians are going to be happy with that…”

  “No kidding,” General Fil’dwis said feelingly, as they turned a corner. “But better that than a large spectac
le. We need to move on and focus on fixing things, not get stuck on getting ‘revenge’.”

  With difficulty, Frank shrugged.

  “Glad I’m not the one who has to make the decision.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Tom commented sarcastically. “Dump it on me, will ya?”

  “No, that was the colonels who chose you as general.”

  “And who was it that suggested I should be chosen?!”

  “Hey, don’t be blaming it on me!”

  “You are to blame!” Tom countered.

  “You were the obvious choice!”

  “Excuses, excuses…”

  Laughing, they went into one of the camp’s bars. Despite the war having been over for the last week, it was still filled with Kzarchians and Marines celebrating.

  The moment after the general and the lieutenant entered, once everyone noticed them, the entire bar rang with cheers, many of the inebriated clientele coming up and slapping the two on the back.

  Almost knocked over twice, Frank finally made his way to a side-table, where he waited for the general, who was finding it much harder to break away.

  He finally managed it, nearly five minutes later, shoving off the last two cheering drunks, then lunging for the other chair at the table.

  “Hard work dealing with your fans, isn’t it?” Frank observed.

  Tom grimaced, and gestured to a waiter to bring a mug over.

  “A beer, please! You want one?”

  “No, the doctors said absolutely no alcohol.” This time it was Frank’s turn to grimace.

  Laughing, Tom gestured again to the waiter, and called, “And one non-alcoholic beer for the lieutenant!”

  “Hey! I don’t want that bilge!”

  “You’ll have it and like it,” General Fil’dwis replied equitably. “You said I owed you a beer. Well, you’re going to get one! And drink it, and like it!”

  “You- you-!” Frank couldn’t find the words to express his disgust of the other’s underhanded trickery.

  “Just you wait!” he threatened finally, leaving unsaid, what, exactly, the other should wait for.

  “Yeah, sure,” Tom snorted, taking the beer the waiter brought over, and swallowing a deep draft from it. On the other side of the table, Frank looked dubiously at the non-alcoholic beer that had placed in front of him.