Hell Fighters From Earth Book 2

by William C. Seigler

  “Hello, how do you feel?”

  “Not too bad, they’ve got me on morphine. I should be okay in a couple of days.”

  “Good.”

  “I guess we won.”

  “We sure did,” responded Smith. “We blacked their eyes but good.”

  He coughed. “Serves them right, messing with the Legion of the Damned.”

  “You’re mighty right about that.” He reached over, took the man’s hand, and shook it. It was limp. Smith returned his smile and moved on. He would be dead shortly; Smith knew it.

  There was blood everywhere. Nurses and physician’s aids were performing surgeries inside a makeshift surgery area. Lastly, he found Argie. She was still triaging patients.

  Two medics carried a stretcher past him. Smith followed to where they were lining up the bodies. They had long since run out of sheets to place over them.

  Getting medical moving was going to be a major undertaking. He had to let her know, but how was he to move these people?

  “Lieutenant de la Fuentes,” he called out from a few meters. “I need to speak to you.”

  “Yes, Captain, of course.”

  They stepped away from the others. “I feel pretty stupid asking how it’s going.”

  “Yeah, it’s a-going, all right.”

  “We’ve got to move out,” he said. Smith was prepared for an argument and with yet another explanation, but her response surprised him.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Of course. We couldn’t possibly remain here; they’ll blast this place to kingdom come.”

  “You’re smart.”

  “Well, it helps that several company commanders have come to get their people. They wanted to move them themselves; figured we were up to our eyeballs in problems. They were right.”

  “I was wondering how I was going to get the medical staff moving.”

  “You’re not, we are. You’re not the type to micromanage, are you darling?”

  The incredulity of being called ‘darling’ under these circumstances dragged laughter out of him when he would not have thought he and any left. He thought he sounded insane.

  “Have you gotten any sleep?” asked Argie, taking on a worried expression.

  “Some, am I micromanaging?”

  “All you need to do is tell me where we are going and when to leave; Farouk and I will handle the rest.”

  “Where is Farouk?”

  “He has a detail loading up everything we don’t need just this minute.”

  “How are you doing on morphine?” he asked.

  “Getting low, like everything else. You do realize we will not save all of them. Many of them can’t be moved, not without killing them.”

  “And we can’t leave them here either,” he added.

  They looked around the cavern in silence. She spoke up. “What do you plan to do with the bodies?”

  “Hadn’t really thought about that. I guess we will have to organize a burial detail.”

  “Are you sure? The Reptilians can come along and exhume the bodies. That would give them something to study and any Intel they take from the bodies can be used against us.”

  “That or just put them on public display. I wouldn’t care for that,” he said.

  “Neither would I; the only thing to do is burn the bodies and scatter the ashes.”

  “There is not a lot of oxygen on this world. I’m not sure there is enough to support combustion. For now, we will have to take the bodies with us.”

  “Have you seen how many there are, over a hundred. There will be more as the dying continues,” she said.

  “There is no easy solution, but we’ve got to find one, and quickly. I’ll find Dmitri. Possibly some of the caves are cold enough and deep enough to store the bodies.”

  “Heck, if we can get them deep enough, maybe we can bury them after all,” offered Argie.

  “Yes, there might be a cavern deep enough. Then if we could mask the entrance, no one could ever find them.”

  “We might even add some booby traps, just in case the enemy gets ambitious,” she added.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of removing them for a proper burial later, after all this is over.”

  “You are an optimist,” she teased.

  “No, I’m keeping the Legion alive just to piss off our enemies in Parliament and the navy.”

  “I knew there was something I loved about you,” she said.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mess will have something in about half an hour.”

  “Something?” she asked.

  “Coffee, hot sweet cakes, and soup; just something to keep people going.”

  “Sounds good; I just realized I’m hungry,” Argie replied.

  “I’ve got to get going,” he said.

  “We still haven’t said what to do with the men who cannot be moved.”

  “No, we haven’t. Give me a report ASAP. How many are they, who cannot be moved, how many will die, and any idea how long it will take.”

  “Damn it, we are talking about our people, our fellow legionnaires!” she growled.

  “Don’t you think I know that,” he replied as gently as he could under the circumstances. “What would I want done if it were me, and soon enough it might be.”

  “What would you want?”

  “If there was no hope and I couldn’t be moved, leave me a pistol. One bullet would do, though some cultures think it would be better if someone else did it.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  “Your commander or your best friend.”

  “Would you do me?”

  “Would you want me to?” he asked. “I would prefer you do it for me.”

  “You had something to do,” she replied, preferring not to think about the question.

  “Yes, I’ll check back with you later if I can.” He turned and walked away. He wanted to see what was happening on the surface.

  He climbed up to his observation post. There was a lookout on duty. “Are you the only one awake?”

  “Oh no sir, Hector and I are taking turns. We won’t let them slip up on us sir.”

  “Good, good. I’m going outside. Contact me if anything happens.” He stepped outside, put his helmet over his head, and switched it on. Now he could see any data transferred between individuals and units.

  Down below, he could see a detachment of legionnaires collecting weapons and ammunition. He walked down the ridge. The smell of death was everywhere, only worse than he imagined.

  We should bury them, but there are not enough of us. And there is no time. There is only time to take what we need. I can’t even give my own men a decent burial!

  Below him, men were collecting weapons and placing them on a cart. Others were gathering ammunition. A couple of men were vomiting. Smith understood why.

  The Reptilian blood was blue black and had hardened. He could not tell how contorted their faces were from how they might have looked in life. Their mouths were open, and their tongues hung out the side of their elongated tooth filled snouts. The eyes were open and flat, lifelessly staring at the sky.

  Smith knew that navy Intel could produce useful intelligence from the bodies, but there was no navy and no Intel. Strangely, he no longer saw the Reptilians as the enemy: the Separatists were.

  To his right, he saw an unexpected movement. An injured Reptilian was attempting to level a rifle at one of his men.

  “Hey watch out!” and he lunged at the Reptilian, knocking the weapon out of line and causing the shot to go wide.

  Denver stood on the weapon while two legionnaires restrained the Reptilian. The creature relaxed and gave no resistance. Smith disarmed him. He appeared to heave, trying to breathe.

  Smith found what appeared to b
e a hookup to a breathing apparatus. He hooked it up, and soon the Reptilian’s breathing slowed.

  The enemy soldier was wounded and had lost blood. Smith felt around the Reptilian’s kit for anything that looked like a bandage. There wasn’t one, but he found what might be a canteen. Smith shook it and heard liquid slosh around inside.

  He handed it to the Reptilian who opened it and drank. Smith took his own bandage and wrapped the injured enemy’s wound as best he could. He stood and backed away as did the others.

  “What do we do with him, sir?”

  “Nothing, there is nothing we can do. We don’t have the men or the materials to take care of the enemy wounded.” We can scarcely take care of our own.

  As Smith led the men away to gather more weapons and ammunition, the injured Reptilian slowly turned his head and watched them fade into the distance.

  Chapter 24 - Skulking About

  Admiral La Force could hardly believe his ears. He stepped over to a chair in his study and slumped into it, “Sit down Commander.”

  Fitz sat and waited, letting his report sink in. He had reported on the contact with Cee’s soon-to-be wife and his plan to transport the supplies out to the last planet in the system containing New Earth. If Cee could get a jump ship, the in-system ship would land in the bay and be carried to the planet where the Legion had been dropped off.

  The supplies, food, medical materials, and ammo, could then be delivered. All this assumes that there is a Legion left to deliver anything to!

  The Admiral snorted and shook his head. “Commander, there are a hundred ways this could go wrong.”

  “Sir, there is no perfect plan for what we are doing.”

  “Yes, I know. I have to wonder how. What did you call him?”

  “Cee, Smith and he agreed on Cee, sir,” replied Fitz.

  “As good a name as any, I suppose. Anyway, I wonder how Cee found out about your attempts.”

  “I don’t know, sir. What I find interesting is that their command structure has apparently buried him so deep he can’t make contact personally. What’s that all about?”

  “Oh, they are probably as confused by Cee’s actions as we are, maybe more. He took initiative. You think it’s been bred out of us, I suspect it’s even more so with them,” replied La Force.

  “And I suspect they don’t know how to handle it.”

  “Do we?” added La Force.

  “Probably not.”

  “Definitely not, and from what I pick up on the ‘old boy network’, the higher-ups are freaking out because one of the little buggers took that initiative. It was not expected; nor is it desirable, in some quarters.

  “Now, as to our current situation, Blackstone and Appleton will deliver the goods, land on the far side of the last planet, and wait.”

  “Sir,” interrupted Fitz.

  “Yes, Commander?”

  “I think I should lead this mission, even though Blackstone outranks me.”

  “Why?” asked La Force.

  “I recruited a great many of those men and women. They know me and may not shoot me on sight. They are bound to be a bit upset at us.”

  “Yes,” mused La Force, “hadn’t thought of that, but I need you here to interface directly with our operatives.”

  “Sir, only a small percentage of the men know them, Smith only just met the Blackstone. Somebody might shoot first and …”

  “And ask questions later,” interjected La Force. “I see your point.”

  The men sat in silence, each trying to figure the best way forward. Finally, Fitz spoke up. “How about Appleton and you going to Rill City and you introduce him to our people?”

  “That is possible,” said the Admiral thoughtfully, “but that would only enlarge the circle of people who can have that knowledge tortured out of them.”

  “True, but I really think I should be there on the ground. Even Smith might want to shoot the first navy person he sees. He and I have been through a lot together; maybe he won’t let them shoot me.”

  “I don’t know,” laughed La Force, “he might be the one who wants to shoot you most.”

  “I hope not, sir.”

  “Well, your plan might work. I’m still not sure if I want Appleton fully briefed on our operation. However, I could introduce him. They would know why, but he would not. Later if I had to use him as a go-between, they would know him. I feel more comfortable that way.”

  Fitz brightened, “Yes, that will do. There is one other advantage. If we are found out, well, you were on the Moon, and had nothing to do with a renegade lieutenant commander.”

  “I couldn’t desert you that way,” La Force protested.

  “But you have to Admiral. If you are found out, I will disown you, and you must be prepared to do the same. Otherwise, one slip up and both the effort to save the Legion and to find out who is behind the assassination will go up in smoke.”

  “You are right. What have we come to when honest men have to skulk around like criminals?”

  “When the criminals take over governance, sir,” replied Fitz.

  “Isn’t that what our ancestors escaped?”

  “Tried to escape, sir.”

  “Maybe we are trying to escape being human.”

  “Perhaps they were looking for something better,” offered Fitz.

  “Searching for their better angels perhaps. The same human beings who write sonnets and symphonies also create collectives and dig mass graves. Our ancestors saw it and tried to escape. Now, evil is so palpable I can taste it.”

  “And now, sir, as you say, honest men have to skulk about as criminals.”

  “Do we know we are right?” pleaded Admiral La Force.

  “Sir?”

  “Are they not greater than we are? We are talking about senior naval officers and Parliament itself.

  “Sir, don’t be seduced by rank. The head of our society has been murdered, murdered by those same people who think themselves our betters. They are not angels; they are only men, and prey to ‘all the sins the flesh is err to’.”

  The Admiral was visibly sweating now. “Do you know what we are doing?”

  “What sir?”

  “History will record us as fools and traitors, or it will record us as the people who saved our society.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, history be hanged. There is a job to do, and there is no one else to do it but us.”

  “You are a good officer, Commander Fitzpatrick.” The Admiral was silent for a full minute.

  “Very well Commander, do it your way, but Blackstone will command the mission, rank and all that. Commander Appleton and I will travel to Rill City on the next jump ship to Sol. You and Colonel Blackstone will meet the jump ship as planned.”

  Admiral La Force turned to look him right in the eyes, “If you are caught, I will disavow any knowledge of your actions and condemn you as being a loose cannon, and may God have mercy on my soul.”

  * * * *

  “Well, here we are,” said Blackstone. He and Fitz were parked on a prominence overlooking a broad plain covered with boulders of basalt. There was a tall cliff off to the left, and in the distance, to the right front, there were several low hills. The spot Blackstone had picked gave them a good view and should allow the jump ship to find them. There they had sat for three hours waiting for contact with the inbound clandestine ship.

  “Yep,” Fitz replied. “We’re here all right.” He had been snoozing in and out for the last hour. Fitz rubbed his eyes.

  “I must confess,” said Blackstone, rubbing his hands across the panel, “it’s good to be back in the saddle.”

  “Been a while since you’ve flown a spacecraft?”

  “Oh yeah, especially a small one like this. I was glad to get promoted and assigned to a larger ship with more room and comforts, but now I realize
just how much fun these smaller ships can be.

  “Even before being briefed on the mission, I was busy pulling this baby out of mothballs and practice flying with the simulator program.”

  “It’s a good thing that we work for navy Intel,” said Fitz. “Otherwise we never would have gotten permission to get off New Earth.”

  “You got that right.” Blackstone thought about it for a bit then added, “You know, I might have to dream up other excuses to go fly this thing.”

  “You planning to name it?” asked Fitz.

  “‘It’, a ship is not an ‘it’. It’s a she, and no, I haven’t thought about naming her. Now, what would do, let me see.”

  “How about Freebooter?” interjected Fitz with a broad grin. “Or how about, The Admiral’s Secret Lady?”

  “Maybe we had better stick to the pirate theme. The Admiral’s wife might have something to say about the other.”

  Both men laughed at that.

  “Well, for right now I think I’ll stick to NV-109,” said Blackstone.

  “Maybe so,” responded Fitz. A moment later he added, “Do you see that over there?”

  “Yes, I see it. There is a glow coming low across the plain.”

  The glow quickly increased. “You think they’ve gotten wise to us?” asked Fitz.

  “We’ll soon know. Cee’s people were supposed to contact us from orbit, and then we fly up to them.”

  The glow rapidly increased, and soon a ship slid up next to them and set down.

  “That’s interesting,” observed Fitz.

  “Yeah, there is no way we can fit in that thing. Something must have gone wrong,” added Blackstone.

  The glow from the alien spacecraft diminished. “I had better put on my headband.”

  “Wait, it’s opening up,” warned Blackstone.

  A tiny pile of metal and plastic, or something like that, trundled across the space between the two ships. As it came in front of the two men, it held up a sign. It read: Do not use the headband device. Come to our spacecraft.

  “What do you make of that?” asked Blackstone.

  “Don’t know, maybe I should get suited up.”

  “Yeah, maybe you should. Don’t use the radio unless you absolutely have to. Here let me give you a hand.”