“Let’s change the subject,” Dean said. “What will you do when the Pope retires?”
“My oath will be fulfilled and I will return to practicing medicine.”
“You won’t serve the next Pope?”
“There is no guarantee that I will even be asked, and to be honest I don’t think I want to. Like I said, it is an all consuming commitment.”
“Do you ever consider leaving Rome Three?”
“To go where? Earth? No, it is too crowded, too divided for my taste.”
“Things seem pretty divided here,” Dean pointed out.
“True, but here I am needed. Here people see the world from a similar point of view. Are you even a member of the church, Captain?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I was raised in an evangelical tradition, but it was never taken too seriously.”
“That is a shame,” she declared. “There is freedom in service to God. I will pray for you.”
“Thank you,” was all he could think to say.
“Perhaps someday you will return to Nova Roma. If so, I hope you will look me up.”
“Count on it,” Dean said.
She smiled, and Dean thought there was hint of color on her cheeks. She turned back to her work and he had another task, although it was nothing as pleasant as flirting with a beautiful doctor. Still, it had to be done, and he didn’t want to put it off any longer. He opened a private channel and took a deep breath to settle his nerves.
“Corporal Chancy,” he said as calmly as he could manage.
“Yes,” said the pouty voice.
“Meet me just outside the rear exit of the Papal Palace,” he ordered.
“Fine,” Chancy replied.
Dean cut the connection, swallowed the curses he felt like spewing, and started back toward the kitchens. He wasn’t sure what his responsibility with the traitorous Corporal was. Breaking the chain of command and going around Dean was a huge breech of military discipline. Major McDowell shouldn’t have even made time to hear Chancy’s complaints, Dean was convinced that if not for Chancy’s father, the ambitious Major would have sent the whining Corporal away without a second thought. Dean was left in the awkward position of knowing his Corporal was actively trying to ruin him and yet there was no recourse to be taken until they returned from their tour. Dean could be stuck with Chancy for years, on a tiny ship, deep in space. He would have to do his best not to kill the disloyal little monster.
The alarm sounded in Dean’s TCU at the same instant that the kitchen doors opened. It was a code red, and meant they were under attack. Dean sent an immediate call for his platoon as he turned away from the kitchens and hurried back into the Grand Reception room. Dean wasn’t sure where the attack was coming from and opted to wait for further information while the other commanders scrambled from their workstation. They had been so intent on preparing for the summit no one was expecting an attack.
Dean cycled through his vid feeds. His platoon was rushing through the kitchen to meet him. On the compound walls, Harper’s MSVs were still broadcasting, although there was a flashing icon in the bottom corner of the vid feed that warned of the quickly fading battery life. He saw streets filled with people. Most had weapons of some sort. Yet the people weren’t attacking, they just stood there. A few raised their weapons and popped off shots, but Dean doubted they were even actually aiming at specific targets.
His platoon was approaching, including Chancy who had retrieved his munitions pack. The HA Specialists mechanized boots thumped hard on the marble flooring, which Dean feared would leave permanent damage but he couldn’t worry about that at the moment. All around him the other officers were ordering their platoons to battle stations on the compound wall. Even Major McDowell was rushing up the staircase with his aides, but Dean hesitated. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Get to the wall, Captain!” McDowell bellowed down at Dean, although he didn’t stop to ensure his order was followed.
“What the hell are you waiting on?” Chancy demanded. “Are you a coward?”
Adkins hit Chancy with the butt of his side arm, which was the only weapon the HA Specialist carried that wasn’t attached to his armor. Chancy hit the floor, slid several paces, then lay still.
“Damn,” Pimrey said. “I been wanting to do that since I met the little weasel.”
“It felt good,” Adkins said.
“Can it, Adkins, we all wanted to punch him,” Ghost said. “Your orders, Captain?”
“Where do you want us?” Harper added. “I’ve got enemy units surrounding the compound.”
“Shouldn’t we go out?” D’Vris asked.
“No,” Dean said, still not sure why he was hesitating. All he knew was that something wasn’t right, but he didn’t know what it was. And then the elevator dinged. Dean glanced over and saw that the up arrow on the elevator was lit and everything clicked into place as the sliding doors opened and two dozen Swiss Guard poured out, their automatic weapons rising to take aim at Dean’s platoon.
Chapter 32
“Concave!” Dean shouted.
The Heavy Armor Specialists responded instantly. Their bodies sliding to form the curving wall around Dean and the other Specialists before their minds fully understood the order. It helped that they were already standing in a loose formation around the others. They dropped into their defensive stances, their big Titanium-Hydrogen alloy shields coming on line at the speed of thought, which was fortunate because a split second later the Swiss Guard began firing.
“Talon, Beak, Engage!” Dean added.
Harper, Tallgrass, Ghost, and Dean moved to attack positions just behind the HA line. The HA utility cannons were already firing, but the Swiss Guard had learned from the failed tactics of the previous battle. They immediately spread out, forcing Dean’s platoon to track them, instead of staying bunched together. They had large rectangular riot shields and helmets, which had obviously been procured from the city’s security forces.
“Damn!” Adkins shouted as his flechettes bounced harmlessly off the shields the Swiss Guard were carrying.
“I can’t get a clean shot!” Pimrey complained.
“Shoot low,” Ghost growled.
Dean was firing his side arm over the shield wall, but he wasn’t actually taking aim at anyone. Instead he was flipping through the vid feeds of the HA utility cannons. Wilson had a good view of the elevator and to Dean’s horror he saw that it was on its way back up. His platoon was under heavy fire, and had only dispatched half of the first group to emerge. Another two dozen would soon be exiting the elevator.
“Ghost, Wilson, Kliner,” Dean said. “Concentrate your fire on the elevator.”
There was a bright chime that indicated the elevator was about to open, but the sound was completely out of place in the midst of the heavy reports from the assault rifles the Swiss Guard were firing.
“Holy hell!” Pimrey shouted as his utility cannon blew apart, the shrapnel from the smoking metal flew in every direction, but Ghost took the brunt of it. His helmet was peppered but withstood the assault. The seal around his neck on the other hand only slowed the hot metal. He dropped to the floor, holding the side of his neck with one hand. Dean saw blood before tearing his attention away and refocusing on the elevator.
Non-lethal flechettes spewed from Adkins and Kliner’s auto cannons, but the guards inside the elevator were ready, their shields held in a tight formation of their own. They moved out of the elevator and immediately dashed for cover. Dean cursed then turned to Harper.
“We have to take that elevator out of commission,” he shouted. “Use an AAV.”
“Sir, if it gets hit with gun fire and explodes, it will kill everyone in this room,” Harper warned. “Including us.”
“What about just one of the bombs? Can you arm it and send it to take out that elevator?”
“I can arm it, but it’s gravity propelled. There’s no way to get it inside.”
The elevato
r closed and Dean knew his platoon was in trouble. They could retreat, but if they did, they would lose the Pope who was still in his quarters upstairs under minimal guard. If that happened, the entire mission would fail. There were just too many people in the city and on the planet who were loyal to the Holy Father whether they agreed with his commands or not. And if the OWFR was pushed off the planet, the rebels would be hunted down like animals, bearing the brunt of the Pope’s wrath.
Dean ran through the vid feeds again. Pimrey was using his side arm, aiming up and over his shield, but with very little success. The Swiss Guard was vulnerable under their shields, but they soon recognized the weakness and there was plenty of furniture in the room to use as cover. Regular ammunition would have punched through the furniture easily, but the non-lethal flechettes couldn’t penetrate. The platoon was taking careful shots, but there were three dozen Swiss Guardsmen firing military grade assault rifles. They were trying to target the HA utility cannons, trying to replicate the destruction they had caused to Pimrey’s weapon. Dean knew it was only a matter of time before his platoon was overwhelmed. They were holding the guards back for the moment, but he knew that another two dozen of the highly trained and motivated guards were on their way up in the elevator.
“Screw this,” he snarled, as a plan came together. “Tallgrass, how’s your throwing arm?”
“Excellent, sir!” she shouted in response.
“Harper give Tallgrass one of the bombs from AAV.”
“Yes sir,” she replied, stooping down to pull the munition from the drone that was mounted on her shoulder.
“Ghost! You still with me?” Dean asked.
“Damn straight,” he said as he got slowly to his feet.
The sniper was holding his wounded neck with one hand and firing his side arm over the shield wall with his other. Dean could see Ghost’s vitals were elevated, but his blood pressure was holding and he hoped that meant that nothing vital had been punctured by the exploding utility cannon.
“I’m ready, sir,” Tallgrass said.
“Alright, on my mark we open up with auto fire, everywhere but the elevator. Pin those bastards down. When that elevator door opens, you throw that bomb Tallgrass.”
“We’ll be breaking the non-lethal orders we were given,” D’Vris said.
“Anyone got a problem with that?” Dean asked.
The platoon was silent.
“Good, let’s do this.”
The elevator chime was the signal and Dean shouted his command, rising up and firing his utility rifle, which had been strapped to his back but he had slung it around and set it to fully automatic fire. The chattering of thousands of flechette darts being fired sounded like a heavy rainstorm pelting a tin metal rooftop, but the return fire ceased for nearly two seconds.
Tallgrass stood up behind the line and threw the bomb just as the doors of the elevator slid apart. More Swiss Guard in riot gear were just moving out when the bomb went off. The sound was so loud Dean’s TCU cut the audio feed completely. Fire spewed out of the elevator and bodies were cast out like playing cards being flicked into the air. Then the elevator car fell and the destruction was cut short.
“Reload!” Dean shouted.
The heavy rifle fire started again, the lead bullets pinging off the HA shields. Dean, Ghost, Harper, and Tallgrass were forced to pick off the guards who were dashing from obstacle to obstacle in an attempt to flank his platoon. A ricochet caught Private Trey Carter, one of the Triplets, in the leg, ripping a gash into his thick calf muscle. He shouted in pain and nearly toppled onto his side. He was on the end of the HA line and Wilson grabbed his arm and held his friend upright.
“Hold together!” Dean shouted.
More and more of the Swiss Guard were going down. Only the most careful had avoided being hit by the tranquilizer flechettes. Dean was down to his final reload, and he was regretting that Chancy had been knocked out with his large pack of ammunition before the fight began, when a voice from above echoed down to them.
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” the voice echoed. “We have the Pope. Drop your weapons and surrender, or we will kill him.”
The firing stopped.
“I repeat, drop your weapons.”
Dean looked up and saw Major McDowell, the Pope, and one of the Major’s aides, leaning over the gilt railing of the third floor landing.
The assault rifles and riot shields were tossed to the ground. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Then he turned to Ghost.
“Let me see,” he ordered.
“It’s a scratch,” Ghost said, but his voice seemed raspy to Dean.
“Harper, Tallgrass, escort Ghost to the medical facility,” Dean ordered. “HA will hold this position. Carter you alright?”
“Yes sir,” the HA Private said.
“We’ll get you help soon,” Dean assured him.
“Take those guards into custody, Captain,” the Major shouted down, his voice booming from his armor’s external speakers.
“Yes, sir,” Dean replied.
He moved out from behind his HA line and toward the Swiss Guard. There were only a dozen left standing and they stared at Dean with unconcealed hate. He realized their ploy had almost worked. While the OWFR commanders planned for a peace conference, the remnants of the Swiss Guard had rearmed themselves and entered the compound the same way the Pope had tried to flee. The escape elevator was off line, but the well trained fighters of the Swiss Guard had no trouble climbing down the ladder rungs in the elevator shaft. Then they made their way to the lower floor of the palace, where no guard was there to oppose them. It had been an inspired plan, but Dean’s gut had kept him from rushing out to man the walls with the other platoons, and once again he had been right.
He didn’t bother trying to restrain the guardsmen. Instead he bunched them together and then shot them all with tranquilizer flechettes. They cursed him as they dropped to the floor before succumbing to the drugs. One quick search around the reception room assured him that they weren’t in danger from ant rouge guards who had fled the fight, waiting for a chance to ambush the Recon Specialists or officers.
“Kliner, Wilson, stay with Carter. Adkins, Pimrey, and D’Vris, search every room. We can’t afford for even one of those bastards to be hiding somewhere down here.”
“I need a weapon,” Pimrey said.
Dean picked up Chancy’s utility rifle and handed it to the big HA Specialist, who had a few cuts from the exploding cannon over his shoulder.
“How bad are you hurt?” Dean asked.
“Just a few scratches, Captain. I don’t need to see a doc.”
“Good, carry on,” he ordered.
Dean moved slowly up the large staircase and then took the smaller set of stairs from the second floor to the third, where he found Major McDowell.
“Threat is neutralized, sir,” he said.
“Very good, Captain,” the Major said. “Casualties?”
“I have three wounded, one serious, two minor. We blew up an elevator car full of Swiss Guardsmen. At least two dozen dead, maybe more. I can’t say for sure.”
“You did what you had to do,” the Major said.
Dean nodded, hoping that when the Major made his report, his opinion of Dean’s actions wouldn’t change.
Chapter 33
By the time Ghost’s and Carter’s wounds were stitched up, the other platoon leaders had returned. The people in the streets drifted back to their homes once word spread that the attack by the Swiss Guard had failed. Chancy was back on his feet, and sulking. And their shuttle was on its way to collect Dean and his platoon.
“I suppose this is goodbye, Captain,” Rosen said.
“Yes, I suppose so,” Dean said. “It’s too bad we didn’t have time to get to know each other better.”
She nodded. “It would have been nice.”
The HA Specialists had to move slowly up the stairs toward the roof. Carter had been forced to remove his armor to get his leg stitched and the decision w
as made to leave it behind. Dean helped Ghost make the ascent, while Harper and Tallgrass supported Carter’s massive body as he hopped up the steps. Specialists from other platoons carried the gurneys with Chavez and Cat. Corporal Valosky was still unconscious, but Doctor Rosen assured Dean it was due to the pain medication and nothing else. Chavez was awake and complaining. He didn’t like that he had missed most of the fighting.
“We’re all alive,” Dean said. “Stop your grumbling.”
The other Specialists seemed just as miffed to have missed the action inside the Papal Palace, and Dean would have gladly traded places with them. He enjoyed commanding his platoon, and he like the challenge of devising strategy and tactics, but he didn’t enjoy being shot at.
The shuttle landed, it was a simple passenger craft, barely big enough for his platoon with two gurneys. It took nearly half an hour to secure the stretchers for space flight, and then Dean dropped into his seat exhausted. The flight was smooth at first, but breaking out of the planet’s atmosphere took all of the small vessel’s capabilities. It shook and rattled, the air outside roaring until Dean was convinced the shuttle would break apart. And then, suddenly everything became calm, and Dean felt himself floating in zero-gravity.
“Hell of ride,” Chavez said weakly.
“Almost home,” Dean replied.
An hour later and they were safely docked in the Charlemagne’s small hanger. Dean ordered his Specialists to their quarters for rest until further notice. Dean accompanied Chavez and Cat into the med bay, where the ship’s monitors took up the task of insuring that they recovered. Dean stripped out of his armor to find dark purple bruises all over his chest and left shoulder. The bonding agent his armor had extruded, ripped open the wound on his bicep when he removed the armor. The ship’s medic, the small vessel didn’t warrant an actual doctor, which Dean hadn’t realized before, stitched up the wound and wrapped it in gauze.
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