by Joseph O'Day
Brogan rushed on, rallying his men past burned and dismembered men from both sides. He wondered briefly if he was slipping on mud or blood. Flashes of light flared in front of him as Eagle Company continued to secure its advantage.
“This is Eagle 3. Sitcom report.”
“Second Platoon, all secure.”
“Third Platoon, all secure.”
“Fourth Platoon, we have enemy troops bottled up in a cave, and they refuse to surrender. But our grenadier’s bought it. Can you send up another?”
“Roger that, Fourth. Second Platoon, can you assist?
“He’s on the way, Eagle 3.”
“Fourth Platoon, throw out some red smoke so we can locate you. Second and Third, sweep the area and search for survivors.” Brogan saw the red smoke and moved toward it, scanning the immediate ground ahead and to both sides.
Finally he crawled up to Fourth’s position, and the grimy sergeant reported. “I think it’s Captain Jantsen—with some other enemy leaders—who’s in the cave, sir.”
Removing his helmet Brogan gestured for the others to do the same. “If that’s the captain, he can monitor our com.” Only the helmets of officers and NCOs possessed transmitters that could both send and receive. Everyone else’s could only receive. This avoided confusion on the field.
The helmets were the legacy of long years of improvements. They were composed of biochemically produced Orb Weaver spider silk, which was stronger that steel but extremely lightweight and flexible. The breakthrough in synthesizing spider silk was ancient history—almost three hundred years old. Biorb, the commercial name of the synthetic, had revolutionized industry. Its many applications included bulletproof vests, automobiles, conduit, and, later, flyers and spaceships. When it came to military helmets, a reflective composition was added that effectively scattered the beam of handheld lasers. The Biorb itself displaced the impact of most projectile weapons. By pulling down the face screen composed of tough transparent material, the helmet became an effective gas mask. It could even be used as a self-contained breathing device for short periods of time. Each helmet was also equipped with computerized night vision and amplified vision, along with readout displays of calculated distance, direction, and identity of selected object.
Brogan noted that the sergeant’s helmet had deflected a laser shot. His hair was singed and his face blistered on one side. In fact, as Brogan looked more closely, the sergeant’s whole camouflage uniform was charred from the intensity of the heat.
Somehow the sergeant looked familiar to Brogan. “Don’t I know you from somewhere, sergeant?”
“It’s been a few years, sir, but you sure look different from that ragged, barefoot kid at the space port on Cirrus. I’m Manazes,” the sergeant confessed as Brogan’s face betrayed the beginnings of recognition. “I was corporal of the guard when you reported for duty.”
“Yes, I remember now,” Brogan acknowledged enthusiastically. “You were a good man to have around then, and I’m sure you’re a good man to have around now. Think there’s any other way out of that cave?”
“Not that we’ve found, Lieutenant. But we can lob some smoke in there and see if it comes out anywhere else.”
“Sounds good. Grenadier, smoke that cave! Second Squad, circle around and look for an escape hole. Send a runner if you spot any.”
The canisters were launched and smoke began to roil from the cave entrance. Laser beams issued from the opening as the trapped men shot blindly at possible attackers.
“Shall we use the droids, sir?” offered Manazes.
“No. If the Captain is still alive, he may try to resume command of them. I’m surprised he hasn’t tried it already. Could be he’s dead . . . or wounded. We’ll lay down a covering fire of grenades and assault the cave,” he decided reluctantly.
Laser weapons had developed into potent tools for the military. But many of the more primitive explosive weapons still possessed a vital tactical role. A chief tactical disadvantage of lasers was that they fired only in a straight line. This meant that a depression or defilade gave protection from the beam. Therefore, grenades, mortars, and high-explosive artillery were still used to engage an enemy in defilade. This was the principle Brogan now intended to exploit.
The cave limited the defenders’ field of fire, so by staying out of that fire zone, his troops could avoid casualties, yet return fire with relative impunity.
A runner from Second Squad suddenly appeared. “Second Squad reports another entrance and are in position to cover it.”
“Good. Grenadier, fire HE!” Brogan shouted hoarsely. The relatively slow moving grenades arched through the air and disappeared into the mouth of the cave. The explosions boomed hollowly from the interior, and rocks, dust, and debris ripped from the opening. The grenadier finished emptying his canister of HE rounds into the cave. The jungle grew quiet.
Smoke wafted in the breeze and the ever-present mist hugged the ground, mingling to give the jungle a sinister atmosphere. It was a theatrical setting. Brogan almost expected to see some hideous apparition appear from the edge of the jungle. Stirring himself, Brogan said, “Let’s see if we got ’em.”
A dozen or so men rose from cover and ran in a zigzag, broken pattern toward the cave entrance. When they reached the darkness of the hollow, Brogan paused to make sure everyone was in position. Then whirling, he leaped into the blackness and paused in a crouch against the rock wall after only a few feet to allow his eyes to adjust. What he saw was not pretty.
Bodies were flung everywhere. The cave walls were splattered with blood and pieces of flesh. Brogan’s lip curled in revulsion, and Manazes was trying to control the contents of his stomach. As they pressed deeper into the cave, the men flipped on their torches. Brogan was about to seal his helmet when an exclamation drove everything from his mind.
“Hey, Lieutenant! It’s Captain Jantsen. And it looks like he’s still alive!”
The captain was firmly wedged into a crevice, where he seemed to have been hurled by the blast. He was covered from head to foot with the blood and gore of his comrades, so it was difficult to tell how badly he was hurt.
“He must’ve been knocked cold by the concussion,” commented Brogan tersely.
“We’ve got another injured man over here, sir,” announced a private. “But that seems to be it. Everyone else has bought it.”
“OK. Let’s get ’em outa here. Move!”
With little compassion the soldiers freed the bodies and carried them clear of the cave. Once outside Brogan ordered, “Sergeant Manazes, organize a burial detail. Drag all the nearby rebel bodies into the cave, then seal it. You four men, bring the captain and the other wounded man to the convoy. I want to find out from the first sergeant what happened here before Captain Jantsen comes to. Let’s go!”
Brogan set out with his detachment to track down Sergeant Dombrowski, while Manazes organized the burial party. On the way down, Brogan spoke into his com unit. “Third Platoon.”
“Yes, sir,” came a voice.
“Spread out to all perimeters and secure the area. And put the droids on heat-seeking detail. Make certain no force of significant size remains to engage us.”
“Right away, sir.”
Dombrowski was hobbling around on a makeshift crutch by the time Brogan’s detachment reached the blasted convoy. He was booming out orders in his raspy, monotonal voice, supervising care of the wounded and restoring some semblance of order. Seeing Brogan, a grin split his face. “Well, I don’t hear no more shootin’, so’s I suppose we beat the rotten scum.”
“Yep, and here’s the chief scum himself,” Brogan said, pointing out the captain.
“Well, well. You don’t say! I’ve yet to thank him properly for this mangled foot of mine. You jest leave ’im with me for a couple minutes, and you won’t havta worry about him no more.” Dombrowski pasted on a sickly sweet smile.
“Sorry, Sergeant. We’re going to handle this one by the book. In order to place a commanding officer under a
rrest for treason, I need the corroboration of at least three witnesses. Just point me in the right direction.”
“Right over there.” The Sergeant pointed to a group of wounded huddled against the burned-out husk of a flyer. “You go get their statements, and I’ll hobble off to find the article we need for you to arrest him legal-like.” First sergeants served as chief administration officers and were very much the experts on regulations.
Brogan moved over to the flyer. As he interviewed the men, a picture began to emerge of what had taken place. Since the convoy had first left base, Dombrowski had questioned the captain about the wisdom of flying so low along a well-marked trail. Jantsen got ugly and threatened to put the “Top” on report if he didn’t pipe down and follow orders. The captain was clearly agitated about something. At this point the XO also tried dissuading Jantsen from following the trail in favor of heading overland instead.
To everyone’s surprise, the CO drew his side arm and shouted, “I’m in command here, and anyone who tries to countermand my orders will be shot!” Many COs were difficult to get along with and some were even known to have pulled a weapon on their own men, as Jantsen did. But the occupants of the flyer were disconcerted at the unusual and mentally unstable behavior of their commander. So they held their peace and hoped something would break in their favor. It was to prove a forlorn hope.
Upon reaching the prearranged ambush area, Jantsen started shooting without warning. Then he ditched the flyer and leaped off, not taking the time to make sure of his kills. The last anyone saw him, he was sprinting into the trees in a westerly direction.
Satisfied that he had learned all he could from the witnesses, Brogan started back toward Dombrowski. “Top!” he shouted. “Do we have any POW tamers? If so, let’s get the turncoat under restraints before he comes around.”
“Already done, sir! And only just in time, too! The creep is starting to come to.”
Brogan joined the sergeant. “I have the authority here for you to formally arrest the traitor,” Dombrowski informed him, as he handed the lieutenant a scan. Brogan examined it closely. Then noticing that the captain had fully regained consciousness and was appraising the two men, he confronted him with the charges.
“Captain Jantsen of his Majesty’s Fusiliers, I charge you with treason under the Uniform Code of Military Conduct of 2226, article 23, and with murder, article 15, and with other such crimes as may be deemed appropriate by a courts martial convened by the commander of his Majesty’s forces operating on the Imperial Dominion of Peru II.”
Jantsen’s face contorted with rage as he spat at Brogan and said with venom, “You’re quite an efficient little cockroach, aren’t you, Lieutenant? Just who do you think you are? Release me from these restraints immediately. That’s a direct order, mister!”
“You’re no longer in a position to give orders, sir. I have relieved you of your command, as provided by article 1141 of the UCMC. And I am holding you for an official courts martial. As senior surviving officer, I have assumed command of this unit.”
“What a fool I was to underestimate you,” exclaimed Jantsen. “I shouldn’t have assumed that a junior officer would be incapable of rallying the company. Once again Darkhow has chosen his men wisely. I should have put one of my men in the rear flyer to take care of our upstart lieutenant,” he blurted disdainfully. “Well, no matter. Freedom will still prevail!” he shouted, his voice rising shrill. “We will yet be victorious! The Empire can’t stifle freedom forever!”
“What would a rock worm like you know about freedom?” sneered Dombrowski. The huge sergeant loomed menacingly over the helpless captive. Jantsen cowered before him. “With your permission, sir,” he spat through gritted teeth, “I’ll gag this prisoner so he can’t spread any more of his vile sedition.”
“Very well, Top. Yank the com unit out of his helmet and close the faceplate. That should muffle him some.”
“You may be able to silence me, you whoremongers, but you can’t silence all of us. One day this land will be free of the despotism of the Emperor!”
Brogan had never heard such talk from one of the Emperor’s own men. “I think you would only trade one type of oppression for another. True freedom is spiritual, not political.” With that, the helmet was lowered over Jantsen’s head.
As he walked away, Brogan wondered at what he had just said. Then he called for the Top to follow. “Have the com get me Lt. Colonel Darkhow at the base. We had better find out what they want us to do.”
“We haven’t had com with the base since we were burned down,” Dombrowski replied. Brogan frowned his understanding. The atmosphere and the heavy mineral deposits of Peru II combined to make the headsets effective essentially for line of sight only. It took an unusually powerful comset to reach the longer distances, such as the main base fifty kilometers away.
Turning to the com operator, Brogan asked, “Can you get a fix on a comsat?”
“Negative, sir. All satellites seem to have been shot down. At least none are above the horizon.”
Brogan looked down at the ground, deep in thought, while the soldier monitored frequencies.
“Sir,” the com operator said, “we can’t send, but we can receive. And from the sound of the traffic, I’d say the main base is under heavy attack. Sir,” the operator said, looking up with strained eyes, “we may not have a base to return to. And as for the outpost we were sent to reinforce, we have no radio traffic at all. They may have been wiped out before we got here.”
Brogan sighed. “Very well. Top, have the men chow down and rest for awhile. Then have them get their gear organized for a forced march. Have a techman check the skids to see if any of them can be made to run. I’m going to monitor the com myself for awhile and make a final decision about what to do.”
Suddenly Brogan stiffened with pain. He was finally aware of the broad, sharp pain emanating from his badly burned foot. He sat down heavily and called for a medic. “Just take care of the pain,” he said grimly when the medic arrived. “Leave the rest for later.”
6
Carl Mogul paced the polished marble floor in his luxurious penthouse suite. The gleaming surface, composed of the finest marble parquet, was seamed with pure gold. The high, arched windows held no glass or screens but, instead, were adorned with exquisite gossamer draperies. The light streamed through their southern exposure, lighting the room from end to end. Mogul was pacing the foyer, which gave access to seven other rooms. Its length and spaciousness always seemed to help him think. He was thinking furiously now.
Insufferable fools and bumblers! he fumed inwardly regarding the many advisors who surrounded him constantly. I ought to banish the lot of ’em to a pesthole for the remainder of their pitiful, worthless days!
Josh, Carl’s irresponsible pup of a younger brother, added fuel to the fire of Mogul’s mounting anger and frustration. And that fool brother of mine, childishly playing the demigod, leading a gang of ruffians in terrorizing the lower levels of the city!
But most recently Josh had the thoughtless temerity to disfigure a nobleman—and without even the common sense of disguising himself. “What an empty-headed idiot!” Carl exclaimed to the air around him. “How am I going to satisfy this man’s claim to justice? I would have a disgusting coward for a brother!”
Some imagined slight to Josh’s pride had triggered the unfortunate incident, and Josh had not taken the honorable route of calling the offender out for a duel. A duel was perfectly acceptable according to civil law. It allowed for no claim of retribution. An unprovoked ambush, however, was an entirely different matter. If the nobleman who was attacked survived the assault, he could demand retribution. And even if he did not, his surviving relatives could demand it in his stead.
Josh Mogul, by anyone’s definition, was a genuine spoiled brat. He had always and inevitably gotten everything he ever wanted. As the son who was most like his father, Kepec Mogul, Josh was his father’s favorite. And it was this favoritism that was his brother’s primar
y vexation.
Carl was Josh’s opposite: he had always tried to please his father. He had gone to the Academy when it had not been necessary. He had plodded his way through the military ranks when just one word from the Emperor would have meant instant promotion. He had worked like a slave furthering his father’s plans. He had gotten all the thankless jobs. Now he had another one: trying to decide how to make Josh’s latest snafu cause as little harm to their designs as possible.
Mogul’s pacing came to an abrupt halt. His fist came slamming down into the open palm of his hand. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed. “I’ll send him off-planet! That’s the perfect solution!” A devilish grin slowly cracked his face. That will provide several benefits: it will keep Josh from having to face his accuser, thus satisfying my father; it will keep him out of the way and incapable of spoiling any more of our schemes, making my life much easier; and it will teach him a lesson he will never forget, thus pleasing me. It’ll be a great way to finally get back at the little wimp!
Mogul took a deep, cleansing breath of sublime satisfaction and exhaled slowly and noisily. “Let’s see, now,” he remarked hollowly to the empty foyer, “the Fusiliers would probably be the way to go. Yes, yes, the Fusiliers. That way I could always have someone keeping an eye on him, just to make sure.”
Mogul cupped his elbow in his hand and fingered his mouth in thought. There’s no way Josh would accept an appointment to the Academy—no way he’d ever make it through, Mogul grinned harshly. He’d be kicked out on his rebellious arse in no time. But the idea of giving a direct commission to his brother was repulsive to Mogul. However, a nobleman serving in the enlisted ranks was out of the question.
A flash of insight went off in Mogul’s head. But if I do give him a commission and send him into combat on Peru II with no combat training, it would be like signing his own death warrant. Mogul rubbed his hands together with glee. “Even our father has finally agreed that this time Josh went too far,” he said aloud. “I’m sure he would reluctantly agree to my plan. And if Josh is killed on Peru II, though Father would certainly take it hard, I might be able to find a way to use his death against Mizpala, and that would make it all worthwhile. But even if the fool should survive, he would be a better man for it, and maybe more of an asset than the liability he is now.”