Markov's Prize

by Mark Barber

  His still smoking carbine held in one hand and his helmet in the other, Tahl dragged his weary legs away from the departing transport drone and headed back toward the fountain where he had left his command squad and where Cane’s arm had already been healed by the command medi-drone. Squad Denne walked past him on the other side of the rubble-strewn street, their squad leader giving a respectful nod as they passed.

  “Great job today, Denne,” Tahl said seriously as he recalled their stoic defense on the left flank near the fortunately one-sided drone engagement. “Go get some rest.”

  “Piece of piss, Boss! Easy!” Strike Leader Vias forced a smile, although the looks on the faces of his troopers told a different story.

  Tahl arrived back at the fountain where Cane and Kachi sat patiently with the squad’s medi-drone and spotter drone, the height difference between the two men almost comical.

  “Boss,” the pale-faced Cane shot to his feet, the jagged hole from the sniper shot still visible in his armor, “sorry about before. Rookie mistake. I should have been taking better cover.”

  “A few of us learned not to underestimate these people today,” Tahl said gently, “first and foremost, me. Let’s all just do our best from it and move on. Where’s the senior?”

  “Went that way, sir,” Kachi gestured to a narrow street to the right of the square. “Said he saw something. Nothing for us to worry about.”

  “Wait here,” Tahl said, making every attempt to keep his tone neutral as he picked up his pace to follow Kachi’s directions. As soon as he was out of view, Tahl sprinted down the street and around a corner to see Van Noor stood motionless a few yan away, facing a building with a small fire burning in its doorway.

  “Bry?”

  Van Noor looked across at him with red eyes. He turned back to face the building – a toy shop – before bringing up his plasma carbine, smashing the window and stepping inside the burning building. Tahl dashed to catch him up and saw his old comrade pick up a stuffed bear before wandering out into the street again.

  “I saw this,” Van Noor said quietly. “Couldn’t let the poor little thing burn.”

  Tahl activated his mental link to the shard and checked Van Noor’s emotional state. He paced over to the older man and grabbed his arm, flipping open the battlesuit’s readout panel to physically check the fluid levels rather than rely on the shard feedback. Van Noor’s emergency bottle of pskenthesis - a drug that could be used to calm the operator’s nerves in extreme conditions when the shard’s external assistance was not enough – was completely empty. Tahl closed his eyes and let out a breath.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tahl laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Van Noor looked up at him as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  “I just want them back,” his voice croaked. “I want my wife. I want my children. I didn’t do anything wrong! I just want them back.”

  Tahl placed one arm around the older man’s shoulders and walked him away from the burning toy shop.

  “I’m sorry, Bry” he said quietly, “I’m so sorry.”

  The old soldier burst into tears and sobbed hysterically as he clung to him.

  ***

  The Wardroom

  Concord Warship, Aurora II

  The small planks of wood, each about the size of a panhuman fingernail, hovered steadily in the air above the half completed model of the archaic sailing ship. Mandarin Owenne stood by the long, rectangular viewport which stretched across the luxurious cabin – befitting of his rank – his hands clasped at the small of his back as he stared out into the nothingness of deep space and concentrated on the complexities of the model ship on the table behind him. Utilizing his own nanosphere, he had surrounded the model ship and all of the individual wooden decking panels with nanobots and now used his superior control over his shard to mentally move each panel, one by one, into its exact place on the model. As each little wooden piece was laid down, he mentally commanded the nanobots to break down the molecular bond of its edges and then reform it, gluing the pieces firmly in place.

  Outside his cabin, the destroyer, Inceptor, held position some five thousand yan off the Aurora II’s port quarter, her long range scanners conducting sweeps of her assigned sector to provide early warning of any approaching threat. A pair of fighters swept rapidly and silently past the viewscreen, yawing to the left to depart from the carrier and take position in a loose circuit around the task force to join the other fighters already established on Combat Defense Patrol. Owenne gently laid down another plank in the very center of the deck of his model ship, careful to calculate the spacing correctly to a fraction of a milli-yan, otherwise the positioning of the main mast would later cause him problems.

  “One assumes you have called this meeting to discuss the recent discovery in the Zolus system?”

  The voice in his head, as clear as if he was being physically spoken to by a visitor in his spacious cabin, came from Mandarin Narik onboard the cruiser Dependable.

  “One assumes correctly,” Owenne replied. “I’d say a Ghar battlefleet is cause enough to consider changing our plans, wouldn’t you?”

  “The chances of sustaining significant naval losses in a direct fleet engagement exceed ninety quantum,” declared Mandarin Luffe from her cabin onboard the cruiser Agility.

  “Yes, I know,” Owenne replied as he began work on the awkward deck panels which ran along the curved edges of his model. “Perhaps you forgot that instantaneous data transfer from the IMTel is an ability open to all of us. Not just you.”

  “Perhaps my esteemed colleague suffered from a momentary yet understandable lapse in awareness due to your seemingly complete inability to conduct yourself in the manner one expects from a Concord Mandarin?” Narik countered coolly.

  “Balls!” Owenne declared. “I’ll conduct myself in any manner I see fit, thank you very much! Now, onto the more pressing matter. Ghar battlefleet. Initial reports have their fleet centerd around two large capital ships. Thoughts?”

  “Let them make planetfall,” Luffe said softly. “Whilst Task Force 1312 could undoubtedly defeat them, the losses to our warships would be highly undesirable. We should engage them in a lengthy engagement upon the ground rather than a swift and costly confrontation in space.”

  “So losing Concord troopers on the ground is desirable?” Owenne snapped, emphasizing the last word.

  “You know precisely what she means, Mandarin Owenne,” Narik said calmly. “Casualties are inevitable. Our business is that of risk assessment, management, and mitigation. The Ghar are more vulnerable when drawn into a lengthy conflict rather than a swift encounter on their terms.”

  Owenne laid down the last deck panel, allowing himself a slight smile as a reward for his patience not only with the delicate model sailing vessel, but also his two NuHu colleagues.

  “And we are all agreed on the Ghar’s target?” Luffe added. “I would place the likelihood of a planetary assault upon Markov’s Prize at ninety-two quantum.”

  “Explain your calculations,” Narik demanded, his tone still polite.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Owenne sighed. “Those nasty little bastards are after the jump gate in the Sen System! It’s how we got here, it’s safe, it leads straight to densely populated systems teeming with the panhuman life they live to eradicate! And if this band of Ghar wishes to properly exploit the gate, long term, they will need a base of operations, and that base of operations will require slave labor! Slave labor just like we’re currently engaged in fighting with on Markov’s Prize!”

  “Whilst your language does you no credit, Mandarin Owenne, I do agree entirely with your assessment,” Luffe said.

  “Agreed,” Narik said after a barely detectable pause. “Then we are content to allow a Ghar landing on Markov’s Prize so that we may enter into a war of attrition and defeat them whilst avoiding a costly fleet encounter.”

  “And what of civilian casualties?” Luffe asked.

  “Tragic, but unavoidable” Owenn
e replied. “You need to grasp the bigger picture. What we’re all thinking but none of us are saying is that if we go head to head with these frightful buggers in some set piece naval encounter, we might actually lose. If Task Force 1312 is beaten back from that jump gate in Sen, we’re not looking at a couple of billion people on one planet. We’re looking at several densely populated systems. We risk Markov’s Prize so as to protect the gate. To stop the Ghar from getting access to a real prize. Besides, we’re not really looking at the entire population of the planet, only those near the Ghar landing site and subsequent engagements.”

  “You seem very preoccupied with this particular planet, Mandarin Owenne,” Narik’s voice seemed almost challenging in its tone. “Perhaps there is something else about this planet which marks it out from the many others whose jump gate leads to a vulnerable population of billions?”

  “You know full well what my thoughts are,” Owenne retorted.

  “You believe Markov’s Prize is Embryo?” Luffe asked. “How many more planets will you scour before…”

  “As many as it takes!” Owenne snapped, slamming a fist into the desk in front of him. “As many as it takes. I shall head to Markov’s Prize myself. I have an old friend there, one of the company commanders in the 44th Strike Formation. It will be a fitting reunion.”

  “Caution, Mandarin Owenne,” Narik warned, “the primary role of the mandarin is to provide strategic guidance, not tactical leadership on the battlefield.”

  “Rubbish!” Owenne declared boldly. “It does the proverbial soul no end of good to get stuck in with the fisticuffs from time to time! You stay here in your nice, warm space boat. I’m off to get my hands dirty.”

  ***

  Rhona left her helmet on the dusty desk at the door of the improvised Company HQ building as she entered. Night had fallen and the sound of discharging weapons sporadically crackled from the city to the north as Concord troops fought small skirmishes with the planet’s defenders in the rubble. The HQ building was formerly a venue for social gathering and drinking. The rooms upstairs were used for accommodation whilst the main bar downstairs had been converted into a planning room, with holographic projections of the surrounding area painting pale blue images near the long wall at the back of the building.

  “Take your time, Kat, no rush,” exhaled Strike Leader Yavn of Squad Teal.

  Yavn sat around a long, rectangular table with the other strike leaders of the company – Vias, Heide, Althern, and Rall. Tahl and Van Noor were nowhere to be seen.

  “The Boss ain’t here, so I guess I ain’t late,” Rhona replied as she pulled up a chair, span it around and mounted it like a saddle, leaning forward as she planted her armored forearms on the chair’s back.

  “We were told to be here two minutes ago,” Rall scowled, “so no, you are late.”

  None of the other squad leaders interjected – the silence spoke volumes to Rhona.

  “I was checking on the members of my squad,” Rhona replied. “I guess that takes me a little longer than it does for you these days, Feon.”

  Rall jumped to his feet.

  “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know damn well what it means, boy,” Rhona leaned forward and rested her chin in her hands. “How many good guys died today because you led them into some dumb death or glory charge against a larger enemy force? Our job was to hold the line, not invade the north half of the city! We dig in, we stop them coming. If you’d stuck to your damn job, then those boys and girls would be getting their heads down to sleep right now, instead of being packed in frozen nitrogen.”

  Althern was next to stand up, pointing an accusing finger at Rhona as his face twisted in fury.

  “Just who the f…”

  “That will do.”

  A slow, commanding voice brought the room to a halt as Tahl descended the staircase from the first floor. Rhona joined the other strike leaders in standing to attention as the company commander approached.

  “It’s been a long day,” Tahl said, his normally calm voice betraying some annoyance, “it’s been a long week. Come to think of it, this is our fourth planetary assault in immediate succession – it’s been a long year for all of us. Do not lose sight of the aim and start fighting amongst yourselves like children. I expect more from my leaders. Much more. Clear?”

  A chorus of mumbled responses of ‘sir’ were issued in affirmation.

  “Take a seat, all of you,” Tahl said, his tone still far from relaxed. “I won’t keep you long. The latest update is that the assault has broken the back of the planetary defense force. Our greatest threat remains the isolated units of enemy armored vehicles, of which we believe are still concentrated some 20k to the north of the city. Alpha Company will hold the line for the next two days whilst we remain here on standby to plug any gaps at the front. We’re expecting reinforcements in the morning – ten troopers.”

  “Any old hands, Boss, or all straight out of training?” asked Vias.

  “They’re all new, so give them the time and effort they deserve.”

  “I hate to be the one to bring it up,” Heide said slowly, “but has there been any more talk of leave? None of us are working to rule here, but our people are well overdue a break from ops. Our troopers are tired. We’re all making mistakes that we shouldn’t be making. It’s not a question of…”

  Tahl held his hand up to silence the blond haired squad leader.

  “I know what you’re saying, Walen,” his familiar, softer tone returned. “Nobody is accusing our soldiers of shirking or looking for an easy ride. The rules are in place to ensure our people give optimal performance on operations, but right now the resources are not available to relieve us, and consequently those rules governing our time on continuous ops have been broken. I fully acknowledge what you are saying about errors and mistakes, but it’s out of my hands. I’ll call the company together first thing in the morning and apologize myself, but right now we’re stuck here and need to be ready in case Alpha Company needs us at the front. One more thing from me – I’ve sent Senior Strike Leader Van Noor to liaise with the Intelligence Cell, he’ll be away for a couple of days. In the meantime, Ci Yavn will be acting as Senior Strike Leader. It’s only for a couple of days, but please support him until Bry is back with us. Any other questions?”

  Nobody spoke.

  “That’s all,” Tahl said, waiting until everybody had stood up before adding a few more words. “Feon, Katya, wait behind.”

  Rhona watched as Yavn, Vias, Heide, and Althern filed over to the door, recovered their helmets, and then departed into the night back to their squads. Tahl gestured for Rall to follow him to the far end of the bar, where the two immediately began an animated conversation. Rhona watched, assessing their body language until Rall stared directly over at her, a clear indication to her that she was very much the subject of his words.

  She turned away, touching the bandana around her forehead and sparing a moment to think of her father and little brother. Life had thrown her a series of challenges, and she had very little idea how she had ended up as a soldier, a Concord soldier at that, and now holding a position of authority. She sometimes envied the relative safety of her previous life, even if it had felt far from safe at the time.

  Rall stormed past her, staring daggers at her silently until he recovered his helmet and barged out into the night, slamming the wooden door behind him. Tahl walked over to her before pulling up a chair and sitting down, gesturing for her to do the same. Again, she swiveled the chair around to sit with her knees either side of the chair back, leaning forward over it.

  “You doing okay?” The strike captain asked.

  “Just dandy, Boss,” Rhona replied, risking a wink.

  Tahl’s face lit up with a brief smile.

  “You know that feedback you get through the shard which lets you know how all of your troopers are doing? That little indication of what they’re feeling and how they’re coping? I get that same feedback thro
ugh the command shard from my strike leaders. I get that feedback from you. You’ve got a lot of anger welling up there.”

  “Me?” Rhona exclaimed. “What about that idiot you were just talking to who killed half his guys today? At least I’m…”

  “Proving my point for me?” Tahl offered.

  Rhona swore and looked away for a second before meeting his gaze again, her dark locks falling down over one eye.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “We spoke about you learning karampei,” Tahl said. “Maybe it would do you some good.”

  Rhona recalled the conversation. At the end of the Prostock Campaign – the last planet they had assaulted – she had shared a brief conversation with Tahl, and in an ill advised moment, she had decided to ask him to teach her the martial art he had once been famous for using in full contact competition fighting.

  “Yeah… I guess that might help.”

  “Well,” Tahl stood again, “if you change your mind, the offer is there. But, whilst I’ve got you here for a few moments, there’s something I need to talk to you about… you know what? Never mind, we can talk about it some other time. Go get some rest, we may well be in the thick of it again before long.”

  “Got it, Boss,” Rhona shrugged, grabbing her helmet before heading out into the hot night to find her squad and get some overdue sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Firebase Alpha

  Equatorial Region

  Markov’s Prize

  L-Day plus 23

  Rubbing his eyes and exhaling again, Sessetti planted his hands behind his head as he lay back on his bunk, staring up at where he had positioned the projection of his magazine on the ceiling of his alcove. It appeared to be the norm to leave alcoves open to the circular communal area; although even after two full days away from the frontline, Sessetti would still have appreciated some privacy. Firebase Alpha had grown exponentially since they had left for the last assault two weeks earlier; the site was now unrecognizable from the isolated beach they had attacked when Weste had been decapitated by an artillery shell.