by J. N. Chaney
The lieutenant waited until the laughter died out and said, “That doesn’t mean there won’t be. If there is any retaliation, you’re to ignore it. We can’t tip our hand.”
That was a tough call, but Rev and Tomiko had come to the same decision on their own. It would be tough if the Centaurs started rampaging to punish the people, but their mission had a broader scope, as tough as that was to accept.
“So, anyone else ‘kinda’ kill a kapo?” the lieutenant asked.
No one said anything.
“OK, then. We’ve got some work to do now, and not much time. Aside from the kapo issue, we’ve got a good portion of the population working as slave labor at any given time. They’re usually guarded by the automated tin-asses, but still, if we’re smart about this, we can use that to our advantage. We don’t really know yet too many details yet of how the citizens are controlled while they’re working, but . . . uh, yes, Pelletier? You’ve got another surprise for us?”
Rev grimaced, then said, “Yes, sir. I kinda . . . I mean, I went into the old emitter station in my AO as if I was one of the workers. They’ve got about three hundred people working inside setting up some automated mini tin-asses assembling a crystal . . . hell, lieutenant, it’s kinda hard to explain, but I’ve got it all recorded for a Priority Three broadcast.”
“You just went in like a worker,” the lieutenant asked. “No thought of being compromised?”
Rev felt like when he was back on New Hope, seeing the judge who sentenced him into the Corps after his traffic ticket. “I thought it was important, sir.”
“Fuck me royal, Pelletier. You were taking a big chance.” He hesitated a moment, then sighed and said, “Well, like the 18th Century wet-water Navy hero said, ‘He who will not risk, cannot win.’ You took a risk, but it sounds like a win.
“We’re taking a short break. Everyone jack into Pelletier here and download his Priority Three. Once we see what we’ve got, then we can come up with a working Frag Order.”
“Any saved rounds?”
Everyone’s hands shot up at once.
“Nix,” the lieutenant said.
“What about our weapons?”
Which was exactly what Rev was going to ask, and from the looks of the others, was what was on their minds, too.
“I knew you were going to ask me that.”
Then why aren’t you answering?
A Marine without a weapon felt naked. Rev had hated staging the weapons back at the assembly area, but no one knew, at the time, what the situation was like in the city. With the lax security, and the fact that there were several armed groups in the other cordons, it made sense to arm themselves . . . at least, to his mind.
Even without a weapon, Rev was more than capable of handling any human. That wasn’t his concern, however. He and Tomiko were tasked with getting their two cordons to safety, and one single Centaur paladin, or even a riever, could wreak havoc on that.
The lieutenant pursed his lips, then said, “I can’t have any of you leaving now. We’ve got too much to do.”
Rev’s heart fell.
“But if you have someone who can retrieve them, someone who can do it surreptitiously, then I’m authorizing it if you think you need them.”
I think I do.
There was a collected sigh of relief.
Rev didn’t have anyone in mind, but Lima would. Given the timeline, whoever went could make it to the assembly area and back with a couple of hours to spare.
“Sir? Uniforms?” Gunny prompted the lieutenant.
“Ah, yeah. I guess you’re right. If you’re armed, I want you in your singlet.”
Each Marine and corpsman had a Marine Corps singlet. Formfitting, they were worn under the PAL-5, but they provided no armor capability on their own. But what they did have was the Marine Corps anchor and crossed swords in gold and their name and rank on the chest. There had been discussion if wearing them would make them targets, concern that was heightened with the knowledge that many of the citizens were Children of Angels. It made sense to Rev, though. Carrying their weapons was enough to make them targets, and at least this way, the people should recognize that they were there to help them.
“Any more saved rounds?” the lieutenant asked, scanning the two teams.
No one said a word.
“In that case, you’ve all got the frag. Our overriding mission remains the same, but between the kapos and the slave labor, I think the changes increase our odds.
“Bottom line is that there’s a good chance we no longer have the element of surprise, and like Sergeant Nix pointed out, the tin-asses and kapos might be implementing plans to take care of their slave workforce like the Nazis did in WWII. It’s our duty not to let that happen. And with that, let’s go. You’ve got a lot to do and not much time to get it done.”
“Ooh-rah,” the assembled Marines yelled.
Rev got to his feet when Hus-man grabbed him by the arm. “That was good shit you gathered.”
“I just recorded it all.”
No one had time to watch the entire recording, but a few minutes was enough to give each Marine an idea of how the people were being utilized.
“What do you think it all means?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a weapon. Miko thinks they’re gonna put out more oxygen.”
“I think she might be right.”
“Quit the gabbing. You heard the lieutenant,” the gunny said, looking at the two.
“Gotta go,” Hus-man said. “See you back in the rear with the gear.”
Rev clapped his friend on the shoulder, then filed out of the building. He still had a good half an hour to go to get back, and that wasn’t considering some nosy kapo becoming interested in him.
And come hell or high water, he needed to get back in time to find a runner to go and pick up their weapons.
6
“Keep your head down, Miko.”
“That’s it? Not on your life am I going to let you get away with that. Come give me a hug.”
M-49 in his hand, Rev leaned forward, enveloping the much smaller Marine. Lima and Fydor stood back and patiently waited.
Rev didn’t like splitting up with her, but there was just too much for them to cover. Tomiko was going with Fydor to the market, while Rev and Lima were going to the job site. Other teams were staging around their AO. None of them knew what was going to happen, only that they were to be ready to react.
Rev hadn’t gotten involved with that, and that scared him. Amicia Lin was in charge of that effort, and he knew she was a confident, proven commodity, one who understood the web of distribution. But getting food delivered was not the same as leading people into combat.
And that is what this was. Everyone hoped for a safe evacuation, but in fifty minutes, the planet would be embroiled in a shooting war, and people were going to get killed.
“I said a hug, not a mauling,” Tomiko said, pulling back. “Time’s a-wasting.”
“See you at the market,” Rev said.
“Just make sure you do, and bring a few hundred lee . . . uh, civilians with you,” Tomiko said as she glanced at the two Tenerifians.
If they knew she’d been about to say “leeches,” they didn’t show it.
“Let’s hit it, Lima,” Rev said, and the two slipped out the back of the building.
He patted his M-49, glad to have it. He was happier with the four M-554 Morays, which had replaced the older Mantises, on his back. He’d fired one when it was still the XM-554 back at Nguyen, and he’d fired countless simulations, but this was the first time he planned to use them in combat.
He’d feel even more comfortable being with his team for this, but that just wasn’t in the cards. He had to make do with who he had with him.
“Lead on,” he told Lima.
She had selected a route that should minimize being spotted, but it was hard to miss the fact that Rev was armed. It would be harder when he stripped down to his Marine singlet, but that was still to come. It was almost a
certainty that some word had slipped out, but pretty soon, everything would be evident.
Lima wasn’t armed with anything other than her ceramic knife.
I guess she’s proven herself to be pretty competent with it, he had to admit to himself.
Still, he’d have felt more comfortable taking point. The only problem with that was he didn’t know where the heck they were going.
Rats scurried among the trash that littered the narrow alleys. A one-eyed cat warily watched them pass from the top of a broken crate. A rotting stench rose up from under a large jumbled pile of what looked to be discarded, soiled blankets, and Rev was glad his sense of smell hadn’t been augmented. He didn’t stop to investigate what or who was under there.
Out in the main thoroughfares and the market, there was the façade of life going on, but this was evidence that things had broken down.
Lima turned down an even narrower alley that led to a small square, bounded by five-story tall buildings.
“Wait here,” she said, before ducking through a door.
Rev considered the entrance to the little courtyard, then the door. With a sigh, he swiveled to face the entrance, M-49 at the ready. If Lima wasn’t who she said she was, if she was going to turn him into the kapos, she’d had plenty of opportunities to do so already, starting when she slit that first kapos’ throat.
It didn’t take long. In less than a minute, the door opened again, and Lima led a thin, older man out. His back was stooped, and his face was lined with age. Rev guessed he was in his eighties, possibly his nineties.
“Corporal, this is Tanton McCough.”
“Semper fi, Corporal. Staff Sergeant McCough. Oh-seven-forty-two,” the man said, holding out his hand.
Oh-seven-forty-two. Engineer, then. At least he’s Direct Combat.
“Semper fi, uh . . . Staff Sergeant.”
Rev could feel the former Marine’s eyes examining him as if taking in his mettle, which was disconcerting. Rev was the one who should be determining if this old man was up to the task, not the other way around.
“Lima here says you need some reinforcements.”
The man’s body may be showing the effects of a hard life, but his eyes were bright, his voice sure. Eighty wasn’t end-of-life old, per se, but it wasn’t twenty.
“You been in the shit before?” Rev asked.
The man lifted his head back and laughed, the sound reverberating between the high walls surrounding him. “Me? Plastina. Taylor’s World. The Massan Rebellion. Seven ship takedowns including the Sunshine Carnival.”
Rev knew about the Sunshine Carnival, of course. A holovid had been made about the rescue of the 3,000-plus tourists from the New Order pirates. Tough battle, carried out extremely well, at least as depicted. He was vaguely aware of the Massan Rebellion. He must have been sleeping during that part of the history classes at boot camp, but yes, this former Marine had been in combat.
“Remind me to ask you about those other battles.”
“OK, then,” he said, pulling one of the Morays off his back. “This is the M-554 Moray.”
McCough’s eyes lit up like a child’s at Christmas, and Rev instantly knew in his heart that the old man was the real deal. Marines loved things that go boom.
“Sweet. Old-Corps, though, by the look of it. Not some high-tech wonder-weapon.”
“It’s dual-mode. Steam-powered after launch, then active or lock-on seeking.”
“Steam?” he asked, taking the weapon from Rev and examining it with professional eyes, fingers immediately going to the trigger and the rest of the weapon.
The more Rev saw of him, the more comfortable he was getting. This Marine knew what he was doing.
“It’s to defeat the tin-asses’ jamming.”
“‘Tin-asses?’ Typical Marine name for the bastards,” McCough said with a half-laugh, half-grunt. “But steam? Like in boiling water?”
“No, some synthetic. The laser in the launch housing boils the liquid, which provides propulsion and guidance.”
“So, I need to keep the sight housing reticule on the target,” he said without Rev having to explain it.
Yeah, this guy’s a pro.
“And if something happens to me, or the Cents EMP the laser?”
“It locks on the last command and continues on the track.”
McCough nodded and brought the Moray to his shoulder.
“This is the safety, and this is the trigger. There’s a small charge to eject the missile before the laser takes over.
The former Marine brought the weapon up to his shoulder several times, sighting and mimicking following a target.
“Easy-peasy, kinda like the old Kraits we had when I was a boot. Not the steam, bit, but the sight and the feel.
“But Lima didn’t get me just so I can get an update of the Corps’ new toys. Who am I going to kill? I mean, specifically?” McCough asked.
In about thirty minutes, Marines will be landing to take back the planet.”
“About fucking time,” McCough said in excitement. “And what’s my role in all of this?”
“There’re two tin-asses at the—”
“PASCO,” McCough interrupted. “The emitter station.”
“Yeah, the emitter station. I need someone else to fire in tandem with me to take them both out before they can activate any self-defense systems.”
McCough considered that and then said, “Lots of people inside working right now. What’s your plan for them?”
“I’m not part of the invasion force, at least in an offensive measure. I’m here to help with the evacuation. There are lots of us here already, all with the same mission.”
“A NEO, then.”
This guy really is Old Corps. We haven’t called these missions Non-combatant Evacuation Operations for years. Not that it matters if he can deliver on the goods.
“And what about the Cents inside?” McCough asked.
“They’re in construction mode. No weapons. I’ve been inside with them.”
“It don’t take them but a few minutes to convert,” the former Marine said.
That was something Rev hadn’t realized, but it made sense. The chassis were the same. This was just one more obstacle in the way.
“Then we’ll just have to get the people out before that happens.”
“Uh, I hate to interrupt your little gun-porn-fest here, but maybe we need to get going?” Lima said.
“Yeah, of course,” Rev said. “Let’s go.”
“This is pretty serious stuff, in case you forgot. Lots of lives on the line.”
“Isn’t Henrik working days at PASCO?” McCough asked her.
She nodded, then opened the door and disappeared inside the building.
“Who’s Henrik?” Rev asked McCough as they started to follow.
“Her son.”
That hit Rev hard. To him, in many ways, this was just a mission. Yes, he cared about the people of the planet, but still, it was something assigned to him, a duty he had to perform for the greater good. But for Lima, for McCough, for millions of people on the planet, this was their lives. This was everything.
I swear, I’m not going to fail you.
The shop was mostly empty, a dozen racks each with a few items of clothing hanging from them. From the dust, it probably hadn’t been open since the initial invasion, but it was also a far cry from the garbage out in the alleyways he and Lima had taken to get there. The shop opened to the street Rev recognized from his trip to the emitter station. They were only a block or so away from the entrance to it. A few people were outside on the street, going about their business.
The people outside like that, along with those inside their homes, were a major concern to Rev and the rest of the Marines. Right now, people chosen by Fydor were being brought up to speed on what was happening, and their tasks were to root out and find those people and get them moving to the evacuation centers.
> Rev was pretty sure that effort was going to devolve into a clusterfuck. There was just too much uncertainty. He’d already discussed this with Tomiko, and he knew his mission wasn’t going to be over once he got the PASCO civilians to the market. He’d still have thousands of people scattered throughout the two cordons—and maybe more from the adjoining ones. He’d have to tackle that the best he could.
“Hold on, Lima. We’re about a block away, right?” he asked as she started to open the front door.
“Yeah. PASCO Place is the next street over, then it’s one block to the gate.”
“Time?” he subvocalized. He had his own timer clicking down in the lower right corner of his sight, but he wanted to confirm.
He sidled up to the front window and blinked a marker at the edge of the corner up ahead.
“Distance.”
Rev pulled up McCough and pointed to the corner. “How long will it take you to run those eighty-five meters to the corner, get into a kneeling position, and fire?”
“Don’t rightly know, Corporal. Fifteen seconds, maybe a few more for these old legs to get me there, but I need to snap in with this thing, first.”
Crap. I should have had him do that already.
“We’ve got five minutes. Go to it.”
McCough smiled, then dropped to a perfect sitting position, smoothly bringing the Moray to his shoulder. He stood and went through it again.
“Don’t you think you should get in position now? You can wait just this side of Takhsin’s Deli. That’s the red building on the corner,” Lima quietly asked him while McCough went through his paces.
“We’re more than a little obvious when we’re armed, and I’ll be more so when I shuck these clothes. Plus we don’t know if any of those people on the street are Angel shits.”
Her eyes widened, and she asked, “You’re going out there naked? Is that some sort of Marine thing?”
“What? No! Why do you . . . oh, I guess I didn’t tell you.” He pulled down his collar to reveal the top of his Marine singlet. “I’m going out in uniform.”