One of the drivers shouts over the comm. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”
A new wave of trucks emerges, and we are on the edge of being overrun.
“Keep shooting!” I shout. “We’re going out together one way or the other.”
Its engine roaring, one koob truck accelerates to the front of the pack. Our trio of runners, hobbled by Maldorn’s injury, is directly in the truck’s path. We can’t get a clear shot.
“Wraith! Behind you!” Calling out the warning is all I can do.
Wraith pulls his pistol and does a half-turn to face the oncoming truck. He takes a moment to aim, then sends three tightly grouped shots at the Kublaren driver. They all seem to hit. The alien slumps onto the steering column, forcing the vehicle into a sharp left turn. The sudden change of direction causes the vehicle to roll toward the fleeing legionnaires.
“Get down!” I hear Wraith call into the comm.
The three soldiers drop onto their stomachs, Maldorn crying out in pain, as the truck bounces and rolls over their heads. It comes to a stop almost directly in front of them. Twenties and Wraith hoist up the wounded leej and continue their trek toward the sleds. Wraith takes care to put a blaster shot into every koob thrown from the vehicle, though I have no idea whether they survived the crash, and perhaps he doesn’t either. KTF.
Dat-dat-dat-dat!
The gunners fend off more of the koob vanguard as the three legionnaires climb into the other sled.
“Doors up!” calls a driver. “Let’s go!”
I hit the switch and steady myself against the sled’s acceleration. The koob trucks shrink away toward the horizon. Those things can’t hang with a combat sled when it comes to speed, armor, or firepower. Not that I’m complaining.
Dat-dat-dat-dat!
The twins continue to blaze away until, gradually, the shots dry up like the last lonely drops of a rainstorm.
We drive, reveling in the silence. Our blood was up, and we’re content to have it come back down. Relieved to finally be returning to the mind-numbing perimeter patrols and collapsible impervisteel of Camp Forge.
Legionnaires begin to pull off their helmets. I notice Andien watch as the men pull off their grime-stained buckets, seeing for the first time the faces of the men who hurried her away from the wrecked village.
“Everybody all right?” I ask.
“Yeah. What’s the word on Maldorn?”
“Broken arm,” I answer, relaying a message from Captain Ford.
I tap a legionnaire on the shoulder. Clauderro. He still has his helmet on. “Head up to the guns so the basic can get in from the wind and take a breather.”
“Yes, sir.”
Clauderro switches positions with the basic, who nods at me before taking a jump seat. His uniform and kerchief are thick with Kublaren dust. The kid pulls down the protective cloth and pushes his goggles up to his forehead. Resting against the headrest, he looks up at the cabin ceiling. Quiet pockets of conversation start up.
I lean in close enough to read the name on the basic’s uniform. “Good shooting back there, Specialist Kags.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Chhun.” He looks over to Andien, who is holding herself, arms wrapped around her chest. “KTF, right?”
“Absolutely,” I answer.
“Yeah, you’re gettin’ it.” Exo has a smile on his face. He punches Kags on the arm. “Come a long way since we rolled out of Camp Forge, huh, Basic?”
Kags doesn’t look away. “Guess so.” The legionnaires around him smile. The kid is a Republic Army basic, but he’s warrior. A brother through combat.
“Tell you boys what, though.” Exo stands up and walks past his audience, all sitting in their jump seats. “You want KTF, watch what happens once we report in at Camp Forge.”
The legionnaires nod. Once we regroup, the koobs have hell to pay.
Exo continues, “Pappy wakes up from that cycler. Colonel LaDonna finds out about all this. Bet we don’t have time to make the latrine bots work before we’re speeding back out with the tanks. Bring that whole Moona Village down to the ground.”
“Just like that.” The comment comes from Andien. There’s something hot in her voice, like anger but more controlled. Subdued. A dampened wrath, not yet hot enough to burn. “Bring the whole village down to the ground, repercussions be damned. Considering how that worked out today…”
“Listen, lady,” Rook says. “Sorry about what happened to your friends. But those koobs were gonna kill some good guys one way or the other. They’d have ambushed all of us, only Captain Ford and Lieutenant Chhun,” he nods at me, “were too sharp to let our unit get caught off guard.”
Andien looks to me, trying hard not to glance down at the blood covering my armor. “You’ll forgive me for not breaking out into applause. You did, after all, stand by while a village with eighty sentient beings, including a half dozen Republic science officers, was blown into atomized pieces.”
Part of me wants to ignore her comment. She’s reeling from what happened—from seeing her friends buried alive or dead on the streets. But the way the rest of the leejes on the sled are looking at me makes me feel like I’ve got to say something. “Miss, I’m sorry for what happened. If we had any idea that the village was friendly, things would have ended up differently. We would have cut down the Moona warriors who led us there to kill our fellow citizens. But the koobs who led us to your village were identified as allies by Repub Intelligence. They took us to a village that was right in the middle of Indian country, a hostile zone. There was no Republic flag. No banner. Hell, not even a research beacon our comms could have identified. We both know you and your team were operating in a clandestine fashion, and it worked out for all of us about as bad as possible. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” Andien looks away, like she’s not interested in talking further. “Ontash is the one whose wife lies dead from a legionnaire blaster bolt. Apologize to him.”
I resist the urge to look over at Masters. He doesn’t need the added burden of being revealed as the legionnaire who pulled the trigger. Still, from the corner of my eye I see him bury his head in his hands.
The rest of the ride back to Camp Forge is quiet.
17
I’m pulled from a light sleep by the sudden, excited chatter of drivers over the command comm channel.
“… smoke on the horizon…”
“Copy. No beacon at marker 1-dot-actual…”
“… well, try the channel…”
“… —omeone wake up Captain Devers…”
“Silver-3, Silver-3. I’m seeing smoke…”
I shake my head of any lingering sleep and look around. The sled is still quiet, and the legionnaires aren’t showing any concern. No one has called anything out over the open comm.
“Uh, hey, guys…” Clauderro calls down from the sled’s gun emplacements. “I’m seeing some columns of smoke off in the distance from where Camp Forge should be.”
Rook leans forward in his seat. “What’s goin’ on, Lieutenant?”
“Not sure.” I pat Clauderro on the back of his leg. “Clauderro, climb down here and gear up. Specialist Kags, take his place.”
“Yes, sir.” The basic clambers up into the turret and replaces the legionnaire.
“Buckets on,” I order. “Everyone make sure you’re primed and ready.”
The cabin fills with clicks and clatters as each soldier double-checks his equipment. I hail Wraith on our private channel.
“Go for Wraith.”
“Getting reports of smoke from CF,” I say.
“Yeah,” Wraith answers. “I got up on the turret to use my mags. Doesn’t look good. We’ll speed in—ETA three minutes. Meet me outside, but keep your leejes in the sleds. Door guards only. My speeder is scouting ahead to make sure the area is clear.”
“Copy.” I’d like to ask more, go over strategy… something. But unlike Wraith, I don’t have a bucket, and anything I say will be heard by
the rest of the cabin. And based on how Wraith sounded, I suspect we’ve not only lost the Chiasm, we’ve also lost Camp Forge. I’m not sure I want the unfiltered truth coming out just yet. At least not until I’ve got some idea of a plan.
“Okay, listen up, legionnaires.” I sling my N-4 over my shoulder and move to the sled doors. “We’re two minutes to CF. Early indications are that there was some kind of attack…”
I’m cut off by a chorus of involuntary curses and hissing sighs.
“… some kind of attack,” I repeat, getting control of the cabin. “Advance scouts should report soon, but be ready for anything.”
“Sir, do we know if—”
Hearing an incoming chime from Wraith, I hold up my index finger, cutting the legionnaire off. “One second, leej. Go for Chhun.”
“Okay, it’s like this,” Wraith says. “Site is clear, no hostiles. But everything is gone. I mean everything. One hundred percent KIA. I’m looking at them now. Speed in and order your squad to remain at the doors. I want to be able to move off in seconds if need be. Once you arrive, meet me outside and we’ll put together a plan.”
“Copy. Chhun out.” I swallow. This is about the worst news possible.
“What’s going on?” Andien asks from her seat. She’s picking at her fingernails.
“We’re in control of the situation,” I answer.
That’s technically true. We control the battlefield. It’s just a burning wreck of destroyed Republic equipment and dead soldiers. I give myself three seconds to be sure my voice is composed and then face the men.
“Okay, leejes. I heard from our advance sled. There was an attack, and it was bad.”
“Like… how bad?” Masters asks.
“Total team kill.”
There’s a stunned silence in the sled.
Exo shakes his head. “No way. No way!”
“That’s what I’m hearing. When we stop and drop, I’m going out alone to meet with Captain Ford. Rook, Clauderro, you’re guarding the door. Everyone else stays inside. Captain Ford wants us ready to speed out the moment the order is given.”
Our combat sled slows and stops. I drop the ramp and exit.
I’m immediately greeted by the smell of burning. Fuel cells, munitions, impervisteel, flesh—you name it. The sheer devastation of the fort is almost enough to make me stop in my tracks. Dead legionnaires and basics are strewn all over. Few of them are still in one piece. Some are victims of what must have been a massive blast, judging by the crater where the tank bays once stood. The impervisteel buildings of the camp are twisted and disfigured, and not one of the structures still stands.
Wraith is waiting for me, N-4 at the ready. I run out to greet him as the sled turret gunners maintain a vigil, scanning for another attack.
“Any clues about how this happened?” I ask.
“No. But this is a total loss. We need to think about where to go next, what our best option is for staying alive until someone notices the Chiasm has stopped reporting. Could be a while. You haven’t seen the west end of the camp.”
“What’d you see?”
“Looked like a last stand. Lots of dead leejes, most of ’em bunched up together. Most of ’em mutilated. A whole lot of koob blood, but no koob bodies. They had time to remove the dead. Our ambush, this, the Chiasm—this was all planned. Coordinated. And from those kimbrin and human corpses back on the ridge, we both know who had a hand in helping plan it.”
I see Captain Devers approaching from his sled. He stops in his tracks, staring in awe at the destruction. “What… what happened?”
“That’s what we need to figure out,” Wraith calls out. “Get over here, because I don’t want us to stick around any longer than is necessary.”
“But who did this?” Devers insists, still taking bewildered baby steps in our direction. “Who could have…?”
“Captain Devers, focus.” Wraith gives me a look. “You said you were in contact with Camp Forge and the Chiasm. Judging by these fires, CF was hit not long after you closed comms with Colonel LaDonna. I need you to think to the exact time of your last transmission.”
“I…”
“Captain Devers, this is critical. Did you speak with the Chiasm?”
“I…”
The comm chimes, and Doc Quigs speaks over the command channel. “Captain Devers, I’ve got a lot of legionnaires and basics in a bad way. Is there any medical salvage? Because I’ll be frank, some of these soldiers are going to die if they don’t get more than skinpacks soon.”
“I… I…”
All the questions seem to hit Devers at once, and he’s frozen with indecision.
“Captain Devers… the Chiasm?”
“I need supplies, now!”
“Sir… we need to speed out of here.”
Devers takes a half step away from us, pauses, and says, “You… you two have this covered, I think. I’m going to return to my sled and make sure…” He jogs a couple of steps. “Make sure…” He doesn’t bother finishing the sentence. He just runs off.
He’s about halfway between his waiting sled and the two of us when I see a gray blur streaking toward him. Exo makes an open field tackle and drives Devers hard into the ground.
“You point sonofabitch!”
Devers is on his back, trying to scramble away from Exo, who leaps on top of him, driving an armored forearm into the captain’s bucket. “You see all this? This is on you, Point! I’m gonna kill you!”
Exo rains down blows on Devers’s head and neck, but the leej armor takes almost all of the impact. Frustrated by this, Exo slips around the struggling captain and pushes his knees into Devers’s chest. Fending off Devers’s attempts to slap his arms away, Exo pulls at the captain’s bucket, removing it with such violence that I worry for a second that he broke Devers’s neck.
Raising a fist high in the air, Exo utters a curse and drills Devers square in the face. The punch causes an audible crunch, and blood pours from Devers nose. Exo rears up and brings his fist crashing down on the side of Devers’s jaw. The force is enough to cause Exo to nearly fall over.
I realize that no one, myself included, is making a move to stop what’s happening. Legionnaires and basics have all left their sleds and are standing as spectators. There’s a part of me that’s content for this to just play out to its conclusion. Even Wraith, so quick to take action, is standing by, unmoving.
Exo rises to his feet and removes his own helmet while Devers writhes on the ground, utterly defenseless.
“Stinking point!” A well-placed kick is driven into Devers’s ribs right where the armor opens up to allow for a fuller range of motion in the arms.
Captain Devers rolls onto his stomach with the impact, gasping for air. His mouth is wide open, like a koob. Blood and saliva spill onto the fractured permacrete deck of Camp Forge. One of his eyes is swelled completely shut, and the other is blood red. He looks like a prizefighter in a fight that should have been called three rounds ago.
Exo kicks him again. “You talked to CF? You didn’t talk to no one!” Another kick. “Nah! You just got my buddies killed! And for what?”
I realize that I’m running toward the fight and that Wraith is keeping pace. “Exo, that’s enough!”
Exo looks up at me, his eyes wet and half-crazed. “He deserves to die, Lieutenant.”
Devers lets out a groan and crawls on the ground, clawing his way toward Wraith and me. “H-help… meeee…”
Exo kicks him again. “You deserve to die, Point!”
In a flash, Exo draws his vibroknife and rolls Devers onto his back. Seeing the blade, Devers gets a burst of adrenaline and is able to throw up his arms before Exo drops down on top of him, trying to plunge the knife into the officer.
“Exo!” I scream, sprinting toward the melee. I see the other legionnaires break and move to stop what’s coming.
Devers pushes at Exo’s chin with his right hand while his left hand grasps Exo’s right wrist, struggling to keep the knife at bay. Bu
t the captain doesn’t have that legionnaire strength the rest of us have. The knife is driven toward his heart as if in slow motion, as every muscle fiber in the captain’s body is overcome.
Seeing that he can’t keep the knife away, Devers cries out, “No! No… no!”
The tip of the knife penetrates the armor as Exo turns his head left and then right in an attempt to get Devers’s palm off of his chin. Nearly all of Exo’s weight is being pressed into the knife, and it slowly bites through the armor, coming ever nearer to ripping into the flesh beneath.
I’m within five steps of the skirmish, and I don’t think I’ll make it in time.
But Wraith is faster than I am. He leaps and spears Exo, driving the legionnaire off of Captain Devers. In a moment, the attacker is surrounded by legionnaires.
No one handles him roughly. No one hits him, and he doesn’t try fighting us. He just stared as Devers, who’s lying flat on his back, exhausted and helpless. There’s a pool of blood around his head, but it’s from his broken nose. The knife didn’t make it through.
No one goes to Devers until Quigs comes out of a med-sled. “What’s going on out…” He stops mid-sentence and runs to the captain to start treating his wounds. “What happened?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say.
“Subconjunctival hemorrhage,” Quigs mumbles to himself. He pulls out a clotting agent from his belt and begins to sprinkle it on Devers’s face. “Well, I am worried about it, Lieutenant. I don’t have the supplies I need to keep half the men in the sleds alive for another week, and I damn sure don’t need more wounded coming without the enemy’s help.”
Rook walks up to Quigs, his rapid-fire squad automatic blaster hoisted over his shoulder. He looks down at Devers’s bruised and bloodied face. “You ask me, Exo did you a favor, Doc. Captain Devers can’t get the rest of us dusted no more now that he’s out of the fight.”
I look to the sleds, where the surviving scientists and Repub-Army basics are watching. That they’re without hope is obvious from the forlorn looks on their faces. A flush of guilt and shame washes over me. If legionnaires can’t keep from almost killing each other in this situation, what prospect is there for them?
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