Bayonet Dawn (SMC Marauders Book 1)

by Scott Moon

  Foster raised his hand.

  “Look everyone, Private Foster has a question. Go ahead with it,” Lovejoy said.

  “I never understood the Dissident Union,” Foster said.

  Lovejoy groaned. “Looks like Foster didn’t have a question, but I think I can address his confession of ignorance. The Dissident Union doesn’t know what they want any better than young Private Foster does. Once, back when their movement started kicking up dust, they had demands and a new galactic constitution. Now they are just fighting for survival. Too desperate to quit.”

  Kevin listened, but it made little sense. The DU were derided as terrorists and anarchists by every news channel linked to Earth and Earth friendly worlds. It was almost a relief when they started using Void Trolls because it gave the talking heads something new to chatter about. No one from 595 paid attention to galactic news. The DU and their Void Trolls would never reach Earth or any of the major systems.

  Lieutenant Keper Lovejoy stood and stretched his back. “My sergeant informs me that my peers in the officer corps are impatient. Get back into formation. Captain Can’t-be-wrong wants to address his subjects.”

  Captain Brent Kingstar of the 343rd Marauders, Zulu Infantry Company entered the assembly area like a political dignitary. Aides and bodyguards surrounded him with obvious pride and dedication to duty. Despite Lovejoy’s unprofessional branding of the man, Kevin found him to be the most intelligent and gentlemanly officer he’d seen.

  Kingstar didn’t appear to need bodyguards or even an army. He stood as tall and muscular as only generations of genetic modification could make him. He had the demeanor of a scholar and the physique of a professional athlete of contact sports — part powerlifter, part bodybuilder, and part endurance enthusiast. With his winning smile, Kevin thought he would not remain a captain long.

  With questions forming in his head, Kevin studied Lovejoy and decided Lovejoy didn’t dislike the captain.

  “I can’t figure Lovejoy,” Kevin said when he had a chance.

  “Eccentric but good is what I hear in the mess hall and other places,” Foster said.

  Captain Kingstar jogged up a set of portable steps to a temporary podium. “Welcome, Zulu Infantry. I see a lot of familiar faces. Lovejoy, good to have you back.”

  “I just got word that Lovejoy was court-martialed or something,” Foster said quietly.

  “You aren’t supposed to be on your comms during assembly,” Kevin said between his teeth.

  “Everybody does it.”

  Kingstar stepped away from his podium and paced as he called out people he knew and complimented the SNC’s ship and crew. “Now this is what you have all been waiting for, so pay attention. The situation is as follows.”

  A thrill went up Kevin’s spine.

  “Three standard weeks ago, the 299th Avengers were sent to Brookhaven to reconnoiter and report the situation since the Brookhaven Campaign against elements of the DU and their Void Troll allies. The 299th became heavily engaged, and much as previous missions to this planet, retired in good order from the system but with heavy losses.”

  No one spoke. The only sound when the captain paused was the ship functioning.

  “The 301st and 302nd SAC divisions have been deployed along with Red, Blue, and Black fleets to blockade the system. By all reports, this operation is going well and will lead to the successful resolution of the DU Crisis. Cut off from support and without political allies, the DU must perish. However, the UNA, Greater France, and the Chinese Communist Empire have significant resources languishing on Brookhaven that must be recovered. The Coalition of Worlds is committed to the operation.”

  Kevin spotted Lacy and other familiar faces across the assembly area.

  Captain Kingstar continued. “The 343rd Marauders will deploy in advance of landing forces, securing three areas that will allow the largest invasion force in the history of space warfare to assault Brookhaven. We will be making a name for ourselves on this one, people, so give me your best.”

  Lovejoy and the other platoon leaders addressed their units as the captain walked from formation to formation, watching and listening. General orders went down the chain of command in mind-numbing detail.

  Kevin was exhausted by the time he made it back to quarters.

  20

  Captives

  AMANDA-MARGARET jumped from rock to rock until she was fifty meters from the towering waterfalls. Cliffs surrounded most of the lake, protecting it from the wind and filling it with water from incredible heights. Portions of the cliff face remained dry but smoothness suggested ancient water erosion on a grand scale. Rich mineral deposits striped the rocks like the wood grain of a proud old tree. She sat cross-legged and absorbed the beauty of the scene.

  Amanda knew she could escape in this direction. At low tide, there were many rocks. Some she could jump to, although others would require swimming. She had never swum before today, but it seemed natural and easy. Amanda understood fear differently from most teenagers she knew and that made many activities easy — at least on a basic level.

  Her twin, Ace Connelly, was totally without fear, which differed from Amanda’s calmness. She breathed without hurrying as she watched rainbows cut through mist in the dying light of dusk. Her twin did not need to face fear; it had been burned out of his mind.

  She looked toward the cave behind the second waterfall from the right of the cliff walls. Ace waited there, too injured to jump and swim.

  The Nix giant would be there with him, making excuses for his violent behavior in his barely understandable common galactic language. Ace, sitting against a cold stone wall facing the underside of the waterfall, would hold the Nix’s gaze and say nothing. Her brother excelled at games revolving around stubbornness.

  Amanda stood in a single motion and walked to the edge of the beautifully striated rock. Escape was possible. Arthur would order her to make a run for it if she could, knowing she would disobey.

  No one but Amanda was truly there for Ace, truly loyal and understanding. She jumped rock to rock, pausing to indulge in the spectacular scenery or study a creature in the water from time to time. In the same situation, her brother Kevin would struggle with guilt and anger. She did what she could and didn’t worry about the rest. If there wasn’t time to live a little now, there never would be.

  The tide came in. She hurried up the natural rock stairs leading behind the waterfall.

  “Amanda,” Ace said, relief heavy in his voice.

  “Brother,” she said as she went to him.

  “Stay away. Sit on the other side,” the Nix warrior called Cronin said. “The two of you have displeased me.”

  Amanda smiled as she bowed, careful to avoid direct eye contact. Experience had taught her that was a mistake. “Master Cronin.” She bent at the waist like a character in a historical movie, studying the floor.

  “You must stay,” Cronin said. “Eigon will catch you without my protection. Then you will be two more slaves to the Sirens of Siris,” he said.

  “You frighten me, Cronin. I wish we could help you, but you must understand we can’t. So why not allow us to go free?” Amanda said.

  “You are more free with the Nix than you will be with the Sirens,” Cronin said, standing to his full height, his armored back one enormous shadow.

  “We want to be free with humans,” Ace said.

  The giant turned from whatever had been distracting it and strode toward Ace.

  Amanda tensed. Everything the giant samurai-like monster did radiated menace. She did not like the look of the creature’s handheld weapons or the way it communicated with something or someone Amanda never saw. It was like their captor was waiting for something — maybe an order to chop off their heads or cook them in a stew pot.

  “I will explain why you are a captive and why I must die before I allow anyone to take you from the Nix. We will not use you as a weapon but will prevent others from using you thus.” He paused, squatting deep to make himself slightly shorter than
Amanda and her brother. “You dream without nightmares.”

  Ace nodded.

  Amanda held back tears.

  “Then why would you not want to stay with us forever? I see your pain. I see that it is now gone,” Cronin said.

  “You are the cause of it,” Ace said.

  “The cause and the cure.”

  The giant and the boy stared into each other’s eyes and said nothing. When the giant turned his attention to Amanda, she felt less brave than ever.

  “You also dream,” he said.

  Amanda trembled. I am afraid but will face my fear. I will fear nothing but giving up.

  “Your tall brother dreams,” Cronin said.

  She nodded, feeling as though she had betrayed Kevin. “He controls his dreams.”

  “He does not,” Cronin said. “What of your eldest? The one who rules even though he is male?”

  Amanda watched something strange in the giant’s expression but could not identify the emotion — something like fear entangled with hope. “What about him?”

  “Why doesn’t he dream?”

  Amanda shrugged. “He’s an asshole.”

  Ace laughed.

  Cronin glared at him, looming as though he would bite the teenage boy.

  “Well, he is,” Ace said.

  “What does his waste organ have to do with his personality?” Cronin asked.

  Amanda lost control and laughed until she cried, feeling so good she wanted to hug her brother and share the joyous release of tension.

  Cronin stood over eight feet tall, shoulders so broad and muscular they reminded Amanda of a bronze statue in one of her library documents. He dropped both hands to his side, but Amanda understood the posture meant nothing. She’d seen him draw his swords. Now that he had stolen one of the Void Troll rifles, he could kill anyone attempting to rescue Amanda and her twin.

  Muscles and armor moved seamlessly. She wasn’t sure where they were organic and where they were enhanced with strange technology.

  The feeling that Cronin was her captive would not leave her thoughts, senseless as the idea was.

  He might kill them both.

  Ace’s nightmares remained under control around the killer.

  She walked toward him and took his hand, marveling at how it covered hers far beyond her wrist. “Come with me, Cronin. I want you to see the waterfalls.”

  “I have seen them many times,” he said.

  “Come see them again.”

  “Promise not to trick me or run away,” he said.

  “Not this time. Maybe never,” she said.

  Amanda approached the mouth of the cave. Water dripped from the upper edge and flowed in rivulets around the edges to create a soothing sound. Mist curtained the opening as sunlight described peculiar patterns in the silvery air. In the distance was the sound of crashing waterfalls competing with sea breakers, flocks of birds soaring in to rest on the highest places they could find.

  She waited.

  Cronin stepped beside her, one massive hand on a sword hilt at his waist. “I have seen this many times. Nix are warriors. We face the enemies of our Siren oppressors and procreate at their command. Simple, and yet we have eyes and emotions whether you believe it or not.”

  Amanda took his hand again and led him along a narrow stone path to a ledge. She might have caused him to trip or otherwise tricked him. Arthur and Kevin, were they here, would yell at her to do this. Her parents would have agonized at the decision. Grandfather Brandon would have scorned such dishonor. Today, Amanda felt most at one with the memory of Grandmother Connelly.

  “This is a good place for treachery,” Cronin said, looking back to see if Ace were attempting escape from the cave. “Yet I think you might consider who will throw who off this goat path.”

  “You don’t need treachery to kill me,” Amanda said. She released his hand to climb the final distance and stood in the center of a stone circle. Erosion on the edges, cracks in places, and landward sections slick with moss made standing in the wind dangerous and exhilarating.

  Cronin joined her like a statue facing the sunset and water reflecting it. “Are you considered beautiful to humans?”

  Amanda blushed. “Am I considered beautiful to Nix?”

  He looked at her. “You are not Siren.”

  She feigned insult to hide her study of the tall, massive warrior. In the light of the dying day, she saw his extra arms. The Nix had at least six, including his primary arms, eight counting legs, and she couldn’t be sure there weren’t more limbs hidden under the others. Decorative ridges on the back of his armor and a collection of weapons hid most everything on his back.

  From a distance, an untrained observer would think him nothing more than a human giant in exotic armor — until they saw him fight with multiple arms.

  Dozens of meteors streaked from the sun, or so it seemed from the ledge over the waterfall bay. Each flare of light separated into smaller projectiles, which separated again.

  “Someone attacks the humans and their Void Trolls — your people perhaps,” Cronin said. His stoicism faltered as the bombardment intensified. In minutes, the horizon was painted with a continuous wall of glowing meteorites. “This attack will not succeed. The humans and their monsters of this world will shelter below the surface.” He looked at Amanda-Margaret Connelly. “Why are you crying?”

  She shook her head and refused to answer.

  21

  Storage Bay 27

  ADMIRAL Danzig Robedeaux knew he was drunk.

  He walked slower.

  He viewed his existence through a lens of sadness without urgency to change the melancholy to productivity.

  He missed his brother.

  Marine guards stood alert at each major intersection, saluting without pissing themselves like half of his junior officers did each time he approached.

  “Oorah, Marines,” he said as he returned their salutes.

  Professionalism ruled their actions. They remained stoic. Unlike some captains, Danzig respected the SMC, basically, and they basically respected him in return.

  Pausing in the hallway outside of his executive officer’s door, he let the sadness warm him.

  When he knocked, it was too loud.

  Time passed before she answered. The view screen showed her face flushed as she pushed her hair over one ear.

  “Captain?”

  “Get dressed, Ford. Put on fatigues. You may have to get dirty,” he said.

  She laughed, holding a hand over her mouth to suppress it.

  “Yes, Admiral Robedeaux. Wait, are you drunk? I’ve never seen you drunk.”

  Danzig stepped back from the door and looked right and left before leaning against the wall like he was a young Ensign getting ready to hustle someone at pool. Drunkenness was a terrible vice; it made him sleepy, or in this case, fatigued down to his core.

  Melanie Ford appeared in duty fatigues, dark blue and made for working, fighting, or general work. Naval fatigues looked like two-piece garments but were a unisuit like every clothing article in space. Simplicity saved lives when warning klaxons sounded and it was all hands on deck.

  “I am very intrigued, Admiral,” she said.

  “I had a dream about my brother. Don’t ask the details. I can’t remember. But when I woke up, I couldn’t sleep. Details about supplies and storage and logistical details you know I delegate to others started bothering me. I have to check some things. Have a look,” he said.

  “Of course, Admiral.”

  “I am sorry I interrupted your night off,” he said.

  “Don’t be.”

  They traveled to a lift and ascended fifteen decks to the unmanned storage areas. These levels were nearest the exterior of the ship, just under the armored exterior and mechanical layers needed to operate defense batteries and other systems. Because starships were two cylinders, one turning around the other, with launch bays at the ends of the cigar-shaped middle tube, gravity was the heaviest here.

  Certain items,
ship parts or industrial machinery destined for colony worlds, could only be moved when the gravity tubes were stopped. Launch bays were always zero gravity, as they were the stationary core of the ship.

  Danzig and Ford walked toward doors that opened as soon as the computer saw them. Security wasn’t what it was near more critical areas.

  “What are we looking for?” she asked.

  Pausing in the minimal light that followed them as they walked the cavernous spaces, he looked at mountains of locked and secured containers of all sizes. Smaller parcels linked together to create a mass of larger, single purpose crates. Some were large enough to contain a Thunderbolt drop-ship or Multi Attack Tank.

  “The Guide.”

  Ford grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him to face her.

  “What?” She looked around for eavesdroppers, despite their location. “What?” she whispered, leaning close enough he could smell the wine on her breath.

  He refused to meet her gaze, glancing down and to one side. “It was a dream. I won’t be able to sleep until I look around. One hour, then you can get on with your date with Moreau.”

  Ford blushed, speechless.

  “I heard admirals are supposed to be eccentric. Humor me,” he said.

  She nodded and followed him as he opened container after container.

  He stopped in Storage Bay 27, not believing the size of the storage blocks he found there.

  “What the hell are those?” Ford said.

  Danzig said nothing.

  “I am checking the manifest,” Ford said, pulling a tablet from her side leg pocket.

  “Wait until we are on the bridge,” he said.

  She stared at him. “We have to know what these contain.”

  “I know what they contain.”

  She crossed her arms and gave him “the look.”

  He smiled. He shook his head slightly. “These contain the parts to mega tanks.”

  Ford laughed. “You are drunk. The SMC and SAC stopped using those brutes over fifty years ago. There was a big deal about recycling them.”