by John Bowers
From hidden speakers under his desk floated the mournful lyrics of Mr. Lonely, by Bobby Vinton.
Chapter 34
Wednesday, 3 February, 0230 (PCC) - Alpha 2, Alpha Centauri System
Over the next three months, the 33rd Star Marines remained in a support role for other units, spending most of their time in base camp. They'd made the initial landing on Alpha 2and been heavily involved for several weeks after that. The Federation Infantry carried the ball in many regions of the planet, much of it day-to-day slugging against the enemy. The Star Marines had been trained for more specialized fighting, such as assaulting planetoids, space stations, enemy warships, and fighting in zero gravity. Their initial work was complete, and most were held in reserve until their special skills were once again required.
Rico returned from Sunday Mass on 3 February, walked into the squad tent and stowed his missal in his footlocker. Roberson was bent over a worn pocket Bible and glanced up when he came in.
"How was church, Martinez?"
"It was okay." Rico stretched out on his rack and closed his eyes. Sunday was the only day he could catch up on his sleep, and he was looking forward to a nap. They were the only two in the tent, and Roberson was still watching him.
"You were born Catholic?" he asked unexpectedly.
Rico opened his eyes and peered at him.
"Yeah."
"Ever think about converting?"
"Why?"
"The Bible says you've got to be born again to enter Heaven. You're not born again, are you?"
"I dunno. What does that mean?"
"It means you surrender your life to Christ. You give Him your heart, your thoughts, your will. You accept Jesus as your personal savior and be baptized."
"I was baptized." Rico's eyes closed again. He was starting to understand why the others resented Roberson.
"When?"
"When I was born."
Roberson put the Bible down and stood up, crossing to sit on a rack next to him.
"See, that's not the same thing, Martinez. You were an infant. I'll bet you were asleep at the time, weren't you?"
"Hell, I dunno. I was a baby."
"Exactly! But Jesus was an adult when He was baptized. You can't confess your sins when you're not even old enough to talk. Repentance can only come from a mind that's mature enough to recognize the need for it. You Catholics are doing it all wrong!"
Rico frowned in irritation.
"What difference does it make, Preacher? I'm a Christian, just like you —"
"Oh, no, not like me!" Roberson smiled. "I've been born again, Rico. You haven't. You need to think about that."
"Look, I'm a Christian, I believe in the Trinity, I've been baptized. I took Communion just a half-hour ago. That's all I can do —"
"That's another thing!" Roberson interrupted. "The word 'baptize' comes from the Greek baptiso, which means total immersion. You haven't really been baptized if you just had a sprinkle on your forehead. Your whole body has to go under, to symbolize the death of the old man …"
"Goddammit!" Rico leaped to his feet in frustration. "Leave me alone, will you! Just git outta my face with this shit, man! I don't need your nitpickin' bullshit! If a person has to understand all the Greek and Hebrew shit to be saved, then everybody's lost, okay? Because nobody understands it all, and everybody has a different opinion about it. So git outta my face, because you don't really know any more about it than I do!"
Rico turned and stalked out of the tent, leaving a startled Roberson behind him. Roberson stared at the doorway in dismay for a moment, then shook his head sadly. Returning to his own rack, he dropped to his knees and folded his hands together.
"Father, forgive him. He knows not what he does."
Mt. Tamalaya, Alpha 2, Alpha Centauri System
They received orders at sunset, and hastily loaded their gear into APC/H's (Armored Personnel Carrier, Hover). They had no idea where they were going, but no one doubted the enemy would be there. The entire 3rd Star Marine Division was involved, and they traveled most of the night, covering several hundred miles. Dawn found them in a high mountain pass, staring across alpine peaks toward more alpine peaks held by the enemy. The unit briefings told them they were no longer facing Sirians; these mountains were held by Vegans, experienced mountain troops.
The broad objective was to capture the mountain range, known locally as the Alphalayas, with peaks ranging up to nineteen thousand feet. The short-term objective, the one handed to 3rd Division, was to capture Mt. Tamalaya, which lay directly ahead.
"Why don't we just surround the fuckers and starve 'em out?" Texas suggested as Capt. Connor conducted the briefing for Delta Company.
"Sometimes we do," Connor replied patiently. "In this case, we can't. The Vegans are using this peak as a Ladar station to detect our fighter squadrons coming in from orbit. They also have some heavy ASC hardware that has to be put out of action. Our fighters have tried bombing them, but without success. They have a very complicated defensive network, and our ships are too fast to target them accurately. The only option left is for us to do it."
"Thanks, Captain!" Texas grinned. "I feel much better now!"
Connor smiled grudgingly as the entire company broke into laughter.
"All right. We're the point company, and I want First Platoon in front. We've got plenty of heavy support behind you, and it'll be delivered as soon as you need it. But be careful what you ask for — those crags in there are like honeycombs, and while missiles might work for some of them, artillery will be better for others. Think about the situation before you decide what kind of support you need."
He turned to the holomap in front of them. A solar collector on the ground nearby provided the power to operate it.
"We think the Ladar receivers are located here, here, here — and here." He pointed to each location. "Each is surrounded by an underground defensive network, with bunkers embedded at strategic locations. What you have to remember is, the enemy has had eight years to construct all this; when you think you've knocked out a bunker, it may be that the enemy has simply ducked underground to another one, and might come back again. Don't take anything for granted."
He pointed to an uneven ring surrounding the entire mountaintop.
"In addition to the individual defense complexes, there's an outer defensive ring, and you'll have to get to that first. We believe it's tied to the inner networks via tunnels, so be extremely careful. You could find yourselves inside the outer net and suddenly come under fire from the rear."
Connor faced his men and swept their faces with his eyes.
"I won't kid you: this one is going to be a cast-iron bitch. It's tougher than anything we've tried before."
They were no longer laughing. Every face was grim. Connor switched holos and showed them the approach to the mountain.
"There's only one approach to the target that offers any hope of success," he said. "Right here."
He pointed. The holomap displayed what they could see in front of them, a broad valley of nothing but white.
"To even reach the damned mountain, we have to traverse this snowfield. Seventeen miles, no cover. They have it completely targeted and locked in. Anything that moves out there will come under intense fire. They're using mostly heavy laser, so when they shoot you won't hear it coming."
He turned to face them, his face blue from cold.
"We'll be using infantry sleds to get across that snowfield. The Engineers will be responsible for getting us to the base of the mountain, and the Fighter Service is going to keep the mountain busy while we do. Once we jump off, we'll have fifteen minutes to get there. That's how long the fighters can keep them tied up, and then it'll be at least an hour before the next strike can hit them. We're gonna try to get two regiments over there before dawn, and then it'll be up to us to penetrate as deep as we can before the next attempt can be made."
He talked another thirty minutes, giving them details in greater depth. They would jump off, he said
, as soon as it got dark. Due to the lunar cycle, there would be no moonlight.
"When you leave this briefing," Connor finished, "go directly to the Quartermaster and draw snow covers for your fatigues. Also, I want every man to wear anti-laser vests. I know you don't like them, but that's an order. You're going to need every advantage you can get. Every man carries at least one plasma charge, and double your grenade load."
Rico and Second Squad shivered in the cold as the day wore on. They had nothing to do but wait and worry, and Rico would rather be in battle than sitting around dreading it. The only relief came from the hot food that was dispensed from portable kitchen hovers. Contrary to usual practice, the Star Marines were willing to go the extra mile to make sure these men had a fitting last meal.
Lucaston, Alpha 2, Alpha Centauri System
Onja Kvoorik and David Coffey walked out of the briefing hut at Fleet Base 49, just across the river from Lucaston. They'd been stationed there for three months, enabling them to fly up to six ground support missions per day, instead of one, as they had been doing. Their time was divided between ground support and fighter interdiction; the Sirians still had fighters based on the planet, and more seemed to arrive from Beta Centauri every day. Since the campaign began, Onja had shot down more than forty enemy fighters, running her career total to well over three hundred.
Alpha Prime was setting as the pilots of ZF-313 mounted their QuasarFighters and began checking their systems. Ground crews already had them powered up, the jets turning quietly, and all that remained was to get airborne and carry out the mission. Timing would be crucial on this one.
Before they boarded the ship, Onja turned to Coffey and gave him a hug. He kissed her warmly in return.
"This one is gonna be hot," he said quietly, and she nodded.
"I know. I'll give it all I've got."
"You always do. Say a prayer to your Sophia while you're at it."
Onja smiled thinly, and they climbed into the ship.
Takeoff was routine. Major Madison contacted the tower for squadron clearance, and they lifted off in pairs, rattling the ground as they streaked down the runway and then pulled into sixty-degree climbs. David Coffey took the lead with his wingman, banking to the north and climbing to seventy thousand feet. The target was a twenty-minute flight at Mach 2, and by the time he approached, the star was down and darkness had crept across the mountains.
"Java Man, target in sight," Coffey said over the SpectraWav. Behind him the squadron sections began to fall back into attack sequence.
"Java Man, Mad Man," Madison replied. He was leading the second section. "You have the lead, Java Man. We have a signal from the Star Marines. They're ready."
"Roger," Coffey replied. "Java Man has the lead."
Onja swallowed involuntarily, checked her arming switches, and sucked a deep breath.
"Fighter Queen is ready," she said.
"This is Java Man. Section one, follow me."
Onja could see the Ladar tracking on her screens. The Vegans on the mountaintop below were fully aware of their presence, and it was going to be down the throat. She felt her hand tremble ever so slightly; she'd been born on Vega, and though Vega was now a Sirian colony, she always found it hard to deliberately fire on other Vegans.
But the time for such reflection was past. Coffey rolled inverted and kicked his rockets, screaming toward the planet fourteen miles below at over a thousand knots. Laser fire reached for them instantly, creating thunderclaps as they missed. The QuasarFighter shuddered under the repeated near-misses. Shields couldn't be used in the atmosphere, so their only defense against the heavy ASC lasers was speed.
Coffey held it on course, driving hard as the distance closed rapidly. Onja had the target in her sights, and released four salvoes of missiles, which emptied her wing tubes, then switched to auto-reload while she turned to her autocannon and directed streams of 29mm toward the rapidly approaching mountaintop.
Coffey began pulling out then, and Onja's eyes bulged under the G forces. Her pressure suit compensated, but she blacked out well before the climbout was complete. Coffey did the same, and the onboard computer flew the ship during the long seconds needed for recovery, flattening its trajectory to reduce the G load and climbing just enough to avoid the mountain peaks that loomed ahead.
One after another, twenty-three fighters streamed out of the night sky, each firing missiles and strafing with autocannon. Shields protected the mountaintop fortress, and most of the missiles exploded against them, a few missing to hit nearby mountain peaks. The constant crack of explosions took its toll on the heavy shields, but didn't crack them, and when the last fighter had screamed out of its dive, no appreciable damage had been done.
But three fighters had been shot down, corkscrewing away into the night, trailing flame and smoke.
The squadron clawed for altitude, the crews shaking off their double vision, and came around again. It took three minutes from the last attack until Coffey was in position to dive again. He swallowed grimly and announced his intention, then rolled over and screamed for the ground again.
Onja's tubes had reloaded, and once again she held the target in her sights. Once again the heavy lasers reached upward, and she bared her teeth at the defenders’ arrogance — she could see lateral streaks of lasers as well. The Vegans were so confident of their ability to fend off the fighters that they were also firing on the Star Marines, who would now be approaching to make their assault. The whole purpose of the strike was to prevent them from doing just that.
Onja released her next spread of missiles, but instead of turning to her autocannon, switched to her laser instead, stabbing the perimeter of the Vegan shields in the hopes of hitting something that might feed power to them. If she could hit a generator, there might be a chance of bringing those shields down. Even that was no guarantee of knocking out the lasers, but it would increase the —
WHAAAM!
Something hit the QuasarFighter like a sledgehammer, and Onja's body slammed forward into her console hard enough to knock the breath out of her. She recoiled as her suspension harness took up the slack, spinning crazily from side to side, and realized helplessly that the fighter itself was spinning. They must have taken a direct hit!
She tried to speak, to ask the AI how bad was the damage, to ask Coffey if he was all right. But she couldn't speak; her throat seemed blocked. She could barely breathe, and as the seconds ticked by, she felt a ringing pain throughout her body, as if she'd just fallen onto starcrete from a tall building. She tasted blood.
But the AI told her, even though she couldn't ask.
"Attent! Direct hit! Cockpit area destroyed, turret damaged, spacecraft on fire! Flight integrity compromised. Recommend ejection! Repeat, all systems offline! Recommend ejection!"
Onja felt as if she were in a centrifuge. The ship was rolling crazily, still traveling at well over Mach 1. The turret had filled with smoke, and though she couldn't see any flames, she knew they were there. Most of her holos were dark, and even without the computer's evaluation she instinctively knew the fighter was doomed.
"Goddess Sophia!" she whispered with difficulty. "Help me!"
Mt. Tamalaya, Alpha 2, Alpha Centauri System
As soon as the star went down, the temperature dropped by thirty degrees. Rico was grateful for the electronics in his uniform, but even that was inadequate; he was miserable with cold. The infantry sleds arrived and the Marines began to mount up. Rico stood in line with Jeff White and the Fearless Fourless. Six men to a sled. The rest of the squad would take the next one. But at the last minute, Sgt. Ragsdale announced he would ride the lead sled, and Rico was bumped back to the next one. But that one was already loaded; Roberson and the replacements were on board, and they'd loaded extra plasma charges, which took up the remaining space. No room.
Swearing, Rico trudged through the ankle-deep snow to the third sled and climbed aboard. It belonged to Third Squad, and someone complained that Rico was crowding him out.
"So sue me!" Rico snarled angrily. A minute later he felt bad for being a dick. But he didn't give up his seat.
They waited thirty minutes for the fighter attack to start. When they heard the thin, high-pitched screams of diving fighters, they knew, and at the same moment got the word in their headsets. Rico closed his eyes and crossed himself as the hoversled lifted off.
It was quiet across the valley, the only sound the swish of hover jets and the rushing wind. Rico was seated in the very back, and all he could see was pale white in every direction; even the darkness didn't hide the snow. Directly in front of him sat the huddled forms of men from Third Squad, the rounded shapes of helmets, and the looming silhouette of Mt. Tamalaya.
They'd covered perhaps three miles when the light show started. As cold wind rushed past his face, Rico's heart sped into turbo as he saw explosions in the air above the target peak, and massive streaks of laser slicing upward. He couldn't see the fighters themselves, but heard them above the muffled explosions in the distance. He heard them pulling out of their dives, and was rocked by the sonic explosions that reverberated down the valley.
Then he saw one. At first it was a bright flash in the sky, then it began to corkscrew toward the ground, pulling out slightly but trailing what looked like a mile of flame as it struggled for control. He tensed as he watched, sweating out its death struggle, willing the pilot to pull out … But the ship crossed the valley ahead of them and slammed into the base of a peak that jutted above the snowfield. The explosion was brilliant and spectacular, but all Rico could think was that two people had died.
They'd covered seven miles when Rico saw the pencil flash streak by a dozen yards away, and with his heart in his mouth realized the Vegans were shooting at the infantry sleds. Even the space attack hadn't prevented them opening fire, and as a second streak shrieked past, the sled pilot began evasive maneuvers. The sled rose and fell rapidly, and jinked from side to side. Rico stared at the mountain with wide eyes, fully aware that he could do nothing but wait and pray. His fate was completely out of his hands.