by Brian Dorsey
“Oh, the Lady Astra,” added Martin as she rolled her eyes.
“That’s right, Emily,” answered Jackson. As he continued, Martin felt his grip on her hands tighten. “And don’t underestimate her. She is as talented in politics as you are at warfare. She will not like how close you and the Colonel are and will try to find a reason to get rid of you. One way or another.”
“The Colonel won’t allow it,” shot back Martin.
“It might not be up to him, Emily. With this war going public, you have to exist just as much in her environment as our own. Just be careful.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said confidently.
“It’s not just you, Emily.”
Martin felt a rush of anticipation as Jackson leaned in close.
“Your father—”
“Don’t,” said Martin quickly, almost yelling. “You don’t get to talk about—”
“Stop,” said Jackson boldly.
Martin froze. She saw the seriousness on his face and conceded. No one else, except maybe Stone or her father long ago, could silence her in such a way.
“You know how these First Families are, Em. If she decided to get you out of the picture, the Astra Varus will not be above using your father as leverage. And you and I both know she has the power to do just about anything she wants to.”
“I fucking hate them,” replied Martin. The tear that had started to form now running down her cheek. “They ruin people’s lives and don’t give it a second thought.”
“It might be better for both of us to leave,” posed Jackson.
“But you said you needed to be away from me?” asked Martin, her emotions in turmoil.
Jackson’s concern, her emotional roller-coaster ride, and a few more minutes of the whiskey flowing through her veins again stirred up the old feelings. “Can you promise to not hurt me again?” she asked, almost pleading. She saw that he loved her—that she knew. Staring into his eyes, she saw Jackson start to answer, then pause.
“Emily,” he replied as Martin felt him release his hold her hands and sit back in his chair. “You know I’m no good. And I can’t make you a promise like that, no matter how much I want to.”
Martin felt sick. For them, love was not enough. Their careers, Jackson’s lack of control, and Martin’s need for structure made any chance of true happiness for them impossible. Struggling to regain control over her emotions and the alcohol in her system, she sat up straight in her chair.
“So we do what we always do,” said Martin, struggling to be strong with the only man other than her father that she had allowed to see her weak.
Martin looked for a response from Jackson. He looked as emotionally wrecked as she felt. After a long pause he spoke.
“Well, Emily. Keep an eye out for Astra because she’ll have both of hers on you.”
As Jackson spoke, Martin saw his attitude shift from one of caring and concern to the carefree Jackson everyone else knew.
“Thanks for the advice,” she said, helping him end their painful conversation.
“No problem, Emily…uh…Captain,” interrupted Jackson, a smile coming to his face as he rose from the table and placed his hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle, caring squeeze.
She looked up toward Jackson who gave her a telling smile and then glanced over to the pool of Recreation Girls.
“It was nice talking, but I need to take advantage of this target-rich environment before it’s too late,” added Jackson as he removed his hand from her shoulder and gave her a hearty slap on the back. “See ya at quarters…well, maybe,” he added as he headed off toward the eager group of women.
Martin watched him walk over to the waiting stable of social climbers and easy women and wrap his arms around the waist of the two blondes. “Shit,” said Martin aloud as she turned back to her bottle. “That was a close one,” she added as she took a long drink.
Chapter 8
The peaceful quiet of space was interrupted by the explosion of metallic noise as massive spaceships decelerated following their jump to Juliet 3. As the fleet reached orbital speed, the bridge of the Pantelus Varuk came alive with activity.
“Jump location verified accurate,” reported the navigator.
“Very well,” acknowledged the ship’s captain, with Admiral Nevarus Sequentius standing at his side.
“All weapons systems and sensors operational,” reported the Combat Center Watch Officer.
“Very well.”
“Combat air patrol package delta launch confirmed,” announced the Air Combat Coordinator. “Twenty-five condor fighters off-ship and comms checks verified.”
“Captain, sensors have detected the presence of both increased neutrino levels and concentrated metals,” reported the Combat Center Watch Officer.
“How old?” demanded the captain as he hurried over to the data screen. “How many concentrations?” he continued as he bit his lower lip and clenched his jaw.
“Is there a problem, Admiral?” asked the nearby Cataline, not understanding the reason for concern.
“Possibly,” replied a frustrated Sequentius. “The neutrino levels could have been residual radiation from reactors onboard a large spacecraft and the concentrated metals could be byproducts of the magnetic concentration process from their jumps.”
“Five concentration sites, Sir. Sensors have analyzed data and determined them to be too small to support any jump activity within the last two weeks. According to the computer there’s a 75 percent probability the increased magnetic signature is due to a recent asteroid,” reported the Watch Officer.
“What about the neutrino levels?”
“Barely above background levels, sir. Tracking sensors report no spacecraft other than ours in this sector.”
“Very well, Ensign,” replied the captain. “Inform engineering to maintain auxiliary reactors online just in case someone pops up. Admiral, the battle group is prepared to support assault operations.”
“Very well, Captain. Gaes Prime has reported ready status as well.” Admiral Sequentius turned to General Tacitus. “You may begin your assault, General.”
***
Inside the Raven troop carrier, Stone looked across the hangar to Martin. He had known her since she was a teenage cadet training with his platoon for her combat certification, and she had always fascinated him.
“I’ve always been amazed how excited you look before a mission,” confessed Stone.
“Are you kidding,” replied Martin. “It’s better than sex…and much more satisfying,” she said sarcastically as she glanced toward Jackson, who was setting a few seats down the line.
Not knowing what she had said, Jackson smiled and gave a thumbs-up.
Stone could only laugh.
As Stone watched, Martin started fiddling with her hair, which hung down to her shoulders. After a few seconds of restless twisting and twirling she bunched her hair into the familiar ponytail he had grown accustomed to seeing her wear in the field. As she finished tying off her hair she glanced at Stone, her face beaming like a child opening a birthday present. Stone knew her excitement was not a manifestation of apprehension or fear; Captain Emily Martin was one of the few people who served not only out of a sense of duty; she truly loved what she did.
“Ready to get back into the field, Sir?” she asked while loading an extended magazine into her rifle and verifying her weapons status menu. “I’ve had enough R & R to last the rest of my life.”
“Probably not as ready as you, Captain,” he smiled back.
‘Raven squadron 3, this is Air Combat Control, execute Lima Seven. Launch all aircraft.’ Blasted over the transport’s intercom.
“Back in the saddle,” said Martin, rubbing her hands together as the transport lifted off from the hangar bay and lunged out the bay doors into space. As the transports rendezvoused and began their descent to the planet, Martin spoke again. “This is the smoothest ride I have ever had in a combat transport,” she said.
“You’ve got to
be kidding me,” said a nearby lieutenant fighting to keep his breakfast down.
“We’re used to a very different insertion technique,” replied Stone as he placed his hand on the young man’s should to steady him.
“Wha…What do you mea…mean?” asked the pale lieutenant.
Martin was more than happy to answer.
“The silent insertion,” she shouted over the humming of the shuttle propulsion system. “Mostly dead-stick…to limit electronic emissions for clandestine missions, the transports initiate a short impulse burst for the correct trajectory. After that, you just sorta fall through the atmosphere like a meteorite.” Martin made zooming grandiose hand gestures as she continued to educate, and taunt, the young lieutenant. “All sensors and navigation equipment are secured until a few hundred meters from the ground when the transports come alive, engage reverse thrusters, and pull massive gravitational forces coming to a stop a meter or two from the ground.” Martin made a violent jerking motion to demonstrate the g-force of such an insertion.
It was more than the lieutenant could take. As he lost his breakfast all over his shoes, Martin looked toward Stone and smiled.
Looking out the viewing window during the slower-than-usual descent, Stone was amazed by the spectacle unfolding as he watched. He could see dozens of transports in their pre-assigned assault routes heading toward the planet. Stone knew there was nothing subtle about this mission. They were coming in sensors at full power and guns blazing. There would be no question about their arrival. As he looked further back he could see the massive battle cruisers and orbital destroyers drifting along, protected by swarms of condor fighters.
‘Stand by for entering the atmosphere,’ passed over the announcing circuit.
As he turned away from the viewing window he saw the hawk assault craft and condor fighters speeding past the transports to provide support for the incoming transports.
If only there were more. Stone feared the stripping of his assault craft would severely hamper his efforts and endanger his men.
‘Standby for insertion,’ echoed through the transport as the blackness of space transformed into the blue skies of Juliet 3. The rumble of the transport told Stone they were making the final banking turn before disembarking. A loud buzzing horn actuated as the compartment light shifted from white to red and the intercom spoke again.
‘Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven….’
“I love this part,” shouted Martin over the roar of the thrusters as she gripped her rifle.
Stone looked down toward Martin’s feet; her toes tapping up and down with anticipation.
‘3, 2, 1…’
The transport impacted the ground, safety harnesses released, and the doors instantly dropped.
The sound of thruster engaging was deafening and the flash of sunlight from Juliet 3’s two suns was bright as Stone exited the transport. Rushing out of the open doors, the first thing he saw as the glare faded was Martin racing toward a small embankment running along an irrigation ditch. He quickly followed.
Leaping over the embankment and taking up a position next to Martin, Stone began to survey the area. In front of him was an open field of waist-high amber-colored wheat. The wind generated from the transports’ engines caused rippling waves to pass over the large field, reminding Stone of waves on a turbulent sea. Beyond the field a slight rocky rise gave way to dense forest. Just north of Stone’s position was a modest farm with a storage building and a few small structures. Behind the farm a gentle slope led to a wooded knoll that jutted out from the flat landscape around it. To the east lay broken fields in various levels of harvest. They extended to the horizon. South of his position was more broken and rocky ground leading to two large hills, both densely wooded.
But nothing else. No defensive positions. No enemy troops. Not even civilian farmers.
“Where are they at?” asked Martin as she peered through her optical magnifier toward the opposite side of the wheat field. “We should have come under fire before we even hit the deck.”
“I don’t know. Let’s get a status from Vatarus and Gates.”
Martin was right. Stone had expected to take casualties before the first transport hit the deck.
“Bravo one, Bravo two, this is Romeo Charlie, report status,” ordered Martin over the comms channel.
‘Romeo Charlie, this is Bravo One, status to follow: All Ravens on deck, no casualties, no hostile contacts, over.’
‘Romeo Charlie, this is Bravo Two, status to follow: All Ravens on deck, no casualties, no hostile contacts. It’s like we landed in a cemetery, over.’
Things were going very well, almost too well.
And Stone grew even more unsettled by the cemetery comment Senior Major Bruni had added to his report. Either the enemy had left the area, which meant they would cause problems for the main force, or they were waiting for something. Either outcome was bad.
“All right, Captain,” ordered Stone as he continued to scan the landscape. “Once they have their perimeters set up, have Vatarus, Gates, Bruni, and Jackson meet us in that farmhouse to our right.”
“Yes, Sir,” answered Martin, quickly turning her attention to barking orders to the staff contingent under her command.
***
The war counsel assembled in a rundown farmhouse in the center of the 25th’s defenses. Senior Major Bruni was sitting at a small, creaky wooden table in the center of the room reviewing logistics data cards. Gates squatted by the entrance drawing circles on the dusty floor with his knife. Jackson appeared dead to the world, asleep in a hand-woven chair by a heating duct while Vatarus and Martin stood on the porch in front of the house arguing the uniform regulations regarding Martin’s now infamous ponytail.
“Good evening, Sir. Shall we get started?” asked Martin eagerly as Stone approached, happy to end the annoying argument with Vatarus.
Stone gave her a nod.
“Attention on deck!” shouted Martin as she entered the small room in front of Stone as she gave a quick kick to Jackson’s chair to wake him.
The group gathered around the table as Bruni finished preparing the digital map. When he was ready, he nodded to Stone.
“Well, gentlemen, what’s our status?” asked Stone.
“Sir, we have had no contact with Nero’s men,” replied Vatarus.
“The few farmers we have questioned have given us nothing,” added Bruni.
“On one hand,” said Gates, “we should be glad our landing wasn’t opposed. On the other it’s a little odd for Nero to have let an entire regiment land without putting up a fight.”
Gates was right. The whole situation was uncomfortable to Stone. He was reminded of the calm on the central plains of Alpha Humana as the thunderclouds quietly but inevitably rolled over the landscape. “What is our current position?” asked Stone.
Bruni manipulated the controls on the digital map and a hologram of the terrain illuminated above the table. He began to speak.
“Major Gates has taken up positions along this ridge just north of here. 2nd Battalion links up with the 1st near this wheat field and their line extends into the rocky terrain south of here and up those two small wooded hills over there.” Turning from the hologram, Bruni pointed out the window to show the two rocky outcroppings rising from the fields outside.
“Our positions have good logistics and communications lines as well,” added Gates.
“When do you expect to move, Sir?” asked Vatarus.
“Not yet, Major,” replied Stone as he turned toward Jackson. “Lieutenant, I want you to take your men and set up sensors and sonic mines 360 degrees around our lines. You can start immediately”
“Yes, Sir,” said Jackson. “I’ll leave some Ters for ya,” he said with a smile to Martin before he hurried out of the room to carry out his mission.
“Hmmm,” replied Martin flatly.
“I want our lines to be solid before we begin any forays toward the city. I agree with Gates; let’s make sure if Nero has any surpr
ises we will have a few of our own for him,” continued Stone.
“Shall I inform General Tacitus that we will remain within our current lines?” asked Bruni.
“Contact the general and tell him we have conducted an unopposed landing and will begin operations in the area. If our landing wasn’t obvious enough to get Nero’s attention then us stumbling around the countryside isn’t going to make much of a difference.” Stone looked across the table at his senior commanders. He could see the apprehension on their faces. “Let’s get back to the men and keep them alert,” he ordered.
***
In the hills west of Stone’s lines, a Terillian captain stepped into the bunker entrance where Nero was talking with a Major General Nathan Windsong, commander of 2nd Division, Terillian Light Infantry. Both men were leaning over a hologram terrain map, which highlighted the area where Stone’s men had landed. The area around Stone’s position was dotted with markers indicating Terillian units. “The Hanmani forces have set up a small perimeter half a day from the city of Lady Lunari. It looks to be of about regiment strength,” reported the captain.
“Very well, Captain,” replied the general as he looked up from the hologram. “Inform General Lighthorse in sector five to commence operations against the main force. I will be in route with additional forces within the hour. General Nero, I will leave a brigade under General Fallingrock to augment your brigade.”
“Yes, General,” replied Nero. “What are your directions for the Xen regiment here?”
“Destroy them,” he replied.
***
Colonel Stone paced back and forth, one hand on his sidearm holster and the other resting on his sword. The heat radiating off the ground added a murky haze to the sea of wheat gently waving in the warm breeze.
He knew the enemy was out there somewhere.
“Sir?” asked an unusually apprehensive Martin.
“Tell him again,” said an exasperated Stone. “I recommend withdrawing from our current location to support the main force.”