by Peter Grant
“Yeah. So?”
“He’s the guy’s personal bodyguard. He was helping that Marine Major. We got him too. Both of ’em are wounded, but not too badly. We can trade ’em.” He gestured at a tall Major and a shorter, burly NCO who were being shoved towards them by his men.
“Where did the others take the Eksalansari?”
“Back to that supply depot we raided the other day.”
Métin swore furiously. “How the hell did they get back inside? Salvi’s group was supposed to seal off that place until we could get there!”
Robles shrugged. “They didn’t have much in the way of weapons when our people hit ’em a few days back, but they sure have now!” Neither man noticed the Marine Major’s eyes widen in surprise as he heard their words, followed by a faint grin, instantly wiped from his face. “Looks like the people in the transporter were talking to the depot by radio. As soon as Salvi and his people fired at the transporter, they fired back from the walls, an’ not just with rifles. They had some sort of explosives too.”
“There’s no way they could have artillery there!”
“Maybe not, Boss, but they got something. Salvi’s dead. They took him out in the first salvo, along with several of his people. The others hit the transporter a couple o’ times, but not hard enough to stop it. It made it through the gate. The Ekselansari’s inside now. I don’t know if he was hurt in the crash – these two ain’t said nothin’, an’ they may not know for sure – but I reckon he must have been, otherwise he’d have been helping them fight us off, wouldn’t he?”
“Maybe…” Métin’s voice was dubious. “They might have made him keep his head down. They know how important he is.”
“Could be, Boss, but I reckon we can get him out of there if we need him.”
“You do? How? If that place is as strong as you tell me, we’ll play hell attacking it.”
“We don’t need to, Boss. Look at all these prisoners you got. There’s gotta be some Marines there, right?”
“No Marines, but several Spacers from the ships in orbit plus some civilian techs from the Commonwealth. Bunch of Colonial Guards too.”
“OK – an’ we got this Major here, plus the Eksalansari’s personal bodyguard. You don’t get to have a job like that unless the guy you’re guarding likes you enough to keep you around, right?”
“I guess.”
“There you are, then. We offer to trade the Commonwealth hostages free an’ clear, not just in exchange for food like we planned, but also for the Eksalansari. The Marines at the depot will have to put their own people here ahead of everyone else – stands to reason, right? If they don’t agree at first, they get to see us shoot their people one or two at a time in sight of their main gate. Shouldn’t take more than a few dead before the guys inside see sense. Even if their officers don’t agree, the rest won’t want to see any more of their people die.”
Métin eyed his errant subordinate approvingly. “You’re usin’ your head, Robles! Yeah, that oughta work. We might even arrange a nasty surprise for ’em as they drive away.” They exchanged vicious, knowing grins. “Trouble is, how do we talk to ’em?” He gestured angrily at the radio clipped to his belt. Its speaker was emitting a strangled hissing squawk. “Bairam’s jammin’ all the standard radio frequencies, just like he said he would as soon as he took the communications building. He’s gonna do that until they’ve agreed t’ talk ta him like he wants.”
“Send someone under a white flag, Boss. I’ll go if you like. You can write them a message.”
Métin nodded slowly. “OK. If this works, you’ll have made up for your peoples’ screw-up with those missiles. Let’s finish the cleanup here an’ see how many Commonwealth hostages we got.”
June 28th 2850 GSC, afternoon
Steve was inspecting the armory when his radio crackled. “Kinnear to Maxwell. Sir, the techs have got the satellite dish working and have made contact with LCS Marathon. Captain Davis wants to speak to you immediately. Over.”
“Maxwell to Kinnear, on my way.”
Steve was already running for the communications room, even as he inwardly blessed the Qianjin spacers who had set up an improvised satellite dish to restore communications with the Lancastrian Commonwealth task force in space. The jamming of all terrestrial communications channels and the severing of satellite links through the planet’s communications center had been his single biggest concern until now. He knew why the troopship’s Commanding Officer wanted to speak with him so urgently. He would be desperate to know what had happened to the Eksalansari.
Steve burst into the comm room and slammed to a halt in front of the main satellite screen, hastily jury-rigged from a computer display connected to a field comm terminal. He was breathing heavily as he came to attention before Captain Davis’ hawk-like visage, visible in the terminal. “Senior Lieutenant Maxwell reports to Captain Davis, Sir!” He knew the Captain would see his face as well through the camera mounted atop the screen.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” The senior officer’s voice was curt. “Your people have just told us that you have the Eksalansari. What happened? Give me a quick status report. Over.”
“Aye aye, Sir.” Steve summarized the events of the morning in a few swift sentences. “All landline comm circuits have been cut and all planetary radio circuits are being jammed, so we don’t know what’s happened elsewhere. This depot isn’t equipped with Marine long-range radios, and we’re out of range of Marine HQ using armor radios, so we don’t know the status of their channels. I have techs assembling hoversats from the stores here, to try to establish a line-of-sight communications chain between us and Marine HQ. However, if the rebels have any more of those missiles they’ll try to shoot down our hoversats the instant we put them up, Sir. Over.”
“Yes, they probably will. The rebels appear to have planned and executed this operation very well. They’ve taken the spaceport, as you know. Your rescue of the Eksalansari is the only good news I’ve had so far today. The rebels hit another four targets in Surush itself. One assault team took the school for children of government officials. They’re holding hostage over two hundred kids, from junior to middle school in age, plus a number of the teachers and administrators. They’ve threatened to kill them all if any rescue is attempted.” Anger and disgust were mingled in his voice.
“Another team took the communications center. They’ve cut or are jamming all planetary circuits, so there’s no secure comms for planetary forces. Marine equipment uses frequency hopping, fortunately, so our forces can still communicate internally; and now that you’ve jury-rigged a satellite dish, we’re in touch with you as well. I’m downloading this conversation to Marine HQ in real time for the attention of Lieutenant-Colonel Battista, CO of the Marine battalion. He’s the commander on the ground, so he’ll have orders for you in addition to mine in due course. He’ll contact you through Marathon’s OpCen.
“Anyway, back to the rebels. A third team hit the Governor’s mansion. He managed to escape in the confusion, but they’re holding his wife and most of his personal household staff. Another team hit the hospital. They’ve taken over two hundred hostages, including most of the nursing staff and two wards filled with recovering Colonial Guard casualties, plus civilian patients.
“In summary, they’re holding more than six hundred hostages at the various places they hit, and probably killed over a hundred Colonial Guards and others in taking them. Several of our people were working at the spaceport – Spacers and technicians sent down there to help with logistics and maintenance. We presume they’re among the hostages, but the rebel boss out there – someone named Métin, according to communications we intercepted before the jamming started – isn’t talking to us, so we don’t know for sure. The rebel leader – his name is Bairam, apparently – has demanded to speak with the Governor and the Marines’ Commanding Officer. That’ll probably happen by this evening. He’ll almost certainly threaten dire consequences for the hostages – including our own – unless
we give him what he wants. Needless to say, I’m not going to comply. We can’t interfere in Eskishi’s or Karabak’s internal affairs by actively intervening in this crisis. The Department of State is emphatic about that. We’ll have to tread very carefully indeed.”
Steve wanted to ask sarcastically whether fighting back against rebel attacks on himself and his people counted as ‘active intervention’, but restrained himself. Instead he replied, “Understood, Sir. Is there any news of Major Emory and the Eksalansari’s bodyguard?”
“We didn’t know what had happened to them until your people told us, and haven’t heard anything about them from the rebels. They may have been killed during the fighting, or they may have been taken prisoner by the group that shot down the Eksalansari’s shuttle. If so, they’re probably being held at the spaceport. I’ll ask Lieutenant-Colonel Battista to raise the matter with Bairam when he speaks to him.”
“Understood, Sir.”
“Meanwhile, Lieutenant, you and your people are on your own. Preserve the security of your installation. Do not, I say again, do not conduct independent negotiations with the rebels. That’s Lieutenant-Colonel Battista’s job. We don’t want to get our wires crossed, or make contradictory deals with different groups.”
Steve fought down an uneasy sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Understood, Sir, but they’ve already raided us once in search of ration packs. What if they try again, or want to exchange hostages for rations?”
“You have your orders, Lieutenant. Furthermore, we can’t intervene in the internal struggle on Eskishi by taking sides. That means you may take no aggressive action whatsoever. Don’t send out patrols, don’t look for trouble. Limit your defensive actions to taking cover and avoiding casualties. Do not return fire unless you absolutely have to, and even then limit yourselves to aimed fire, with light weapons only, at known, clearly identified targets close to your position. No indiscriminate shooting, no long-range or area fire. Keep your heads down and wait. By tomorrow we’ll have been able to develop a coordinated plan of action. The important thing is, don’t act independently. If you do, you might screw up other arrangements about which you know nothing.”
“Understood, Sir.”
“Good. I’ll –”
Whatever Captain Davis was about to say was interrupted by three short, sharp explosions outside the communications center. The screen fuzzed and went blank as everyone, including Steve, instinctively dived for cover against the walls. After a brief pause, three more explosions sounded, and then three more.
Steve rose to his feet and hurried to the doorway, looking out cautiously. Prone figures stirred as they looked up in the sudden silence. Ten meters from the building, the newly-erected satellite dish had taken a direct hit from what looked to have been a mortar bomb or something like it, arcing over the perimeter wall. It was in pieces on the ground. One of the techs who’d erected it was lying ominously still nearby. Two more hurried towards him.
Steve raised his voice. “Get that man to the sick bay at once! Any more casualties?” No-one answered. “Very well, back to your posts, quick as you can. They may be about to attack us.”
A Marine called from the guardhouse at the main gate. A camera had been mounted on its roof looking out over the wall, one of several around the perimeter. “Someone’s come out of the bushes, Sir! He’s waving a white flag and walking slowly towards us.”
“Is he armed?”
“Doesn’t look like it, Sir.”
“Very well, let him approach, but stop him ten meters from the gate. Don’t let him get any closer.”
“Aye aye, Sir.”
Gunnery Sergeant Kinnear approached on the run. He was panting, but gave a thumbs-up sign as he stopped next to Steve. “All fire teams are ready and standing by, Sir. I’ve also checked all the grenade launchers used during this morning’s fight when you came back with the Eksalansari. They’re reloaded and ready to go.”
“Good work! I wonder if the rebels knew what hit them? I doubt that they’ve run into sensor-fused grenade launchers before. Eskishi’s forces don’t use them. It must have seemed like mortars or light artillery to them. That may be why they’ve just fired those things at us, to show they have heavier weapons too.” He gestured to the smoking craters around the compound.
Kinnear scowled as he saw the damaged satellite dish. “Damn! It took us a couple of hours to jury-rig that thing, and now we’ve got to do it all over again!”
“Have you got enough parts to repair it?”
“That dish is probably beyond fixing, Sir, but we can build another. There’s enough sheet metal around, and we can bend it into shape. Fortunately the terminal itself is inside the commcen, so it’s not as vulnerable. We’ve only got one of them in working order.”
“For which thank Heaven! I’ve just been talking to Captain Davis.” He gave the NCO a quick summary of their conversation.
The Gunnery Sergeant scowled. “So we’re stuck in here and we can’t respond to attacks like this?”
“That’s what the big boss said.”
“It’s all very well for him, Sir. He’s sitting thirty thousand clicks above us in orbit! Down here our problems are a bit more immediate.”
“You know it and I know it, but that’s the way it is. If worst comes to worst, I’m going to take advantage of our enforced ‘communications breakdown’ to do what needs to be done. I can always apologize later.” They exchanged fierce grins. “As soon as you repair the satellite circuit, Lieutenant-Colonel Battista will have orders for us, I’m sure.”
“I’ll get right on it, Sir. What about this rebel?”
“I’ll see what he wants while you get started on the repairs.”
“Aye aye, Sir.”
Steve hurried to the guardhouse at the main entrance. The rebel slowed and stopped outside the wall as he arrived. He waved his white flag almost defiantly, and raised his voice. “I wanna speak to your boss!”
Remaining behind the wall, Steve called, “You’re talking to him. Who are you?”
“Show yourself, damn you! I didn’t come out all this way to talk to a wall! Whatsamatter, scared I’ll bite ya?”
“No, but your friends in the bush might start shooting.”
“Naw, they won’t do that, ’cause your people would kill me if they did.”
Steve took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out if the rebel meant it. He stepped out from behind the gatepost and walked towards the emissary.
“So far, so good,” he said as he came up to the man. “We’re both alive. That’s a good start. Why the hell did you shoot at us if you wanted to talk?”
“That was an attention-getter, to let you know we’ve got heavy weapons of our own now. We took ’em when we captured the spaceport, along with ninety-seven hostages. We –”
Steve interrupted. “Ninety-seven? Does that include any survivors from the assault shuttle you shot down this morning?”
“Yeah, one of your Marines and a local guy.”
Steve exhaled silently in relief. He’d been afraid both of them had been killed. “Are they OK?”
“They’re hurt, but not too badly. Let’s get back to business. We can take this place just like we did the spaceport, but my boss would prefer to make a deal. You give us ten transporter loads o’ supplies, plus the Eksalansari – we know you brought him back here. In exchange we’ll give you all our Commonwealth prisoners; ten from the spaceport plus one from the shuttle.”
“My orders are not to make any independent deals with you people. It’s all got to go through the Marine base on the far side of Surush.”
The rebel snorted in disdain. “An’ you probably can’t talk to them right now, just like we can’t talk to our boss, ’cause all the circuits are down or jammed. Naw, we’ll hafta sort this out between ourselves.”
“And if I won’t?”
The other grinned viciously. “Then we’ll put your hostages out there at the bush line, one at a time. You’ll get to see ’em die r
eal slow. We’ll shoot their ankles first, then their knees, then their wrists, then their elbows, then their hips, then their shoulders, one joint at a time. When we run out o’ joints we’ll shoot ’em in the guts, low down so they’ll hurt real bad for a long time before they die; then we’ll start on the next one. The screams should keep you awake all night long.”
Steve swallowed hard as he tried to keep his face impassive, suppressing an overwhelming urge to land a killing blow on the grinning rebel in front of him. He knew he could do it – his fourth dan ranking in karate, plus his years of military unarmed combat training, would make it very easy – but it would serve no purpose, and might get some of the hostages killed in retaliation. He thought fast. Could there be a way to turn this to his advantage?
He said slowly, “Tell your boss I’m a Fleet officer – a Spacer, not a Marine. I need something that’ll justify me disobeying orders; and in return I can give you a damn sight more than you’ve asked for. However, to make that deal I need to do it with your boss in person.”
“Why?”
“I have to be seen to be pulling off something worthwhile. I’ll record it on vid, so I can show it to my superiors later to prove to them it was worth doing. Part of that will be to talk to a rebel leader, so I can say I persuaded someone high up to work with me.”
“Maybe… but I don’t know if he’ll bite. How you gonna talk to him, anyway? The radio circuits are all jammed.”
“Not the real short-range ones, like they use for working parties on the hardstand at the spaceport. We’ve got a few of those radios here, too. They’ve got a range of only one or two kilometers in line-of-sight. If your boss comes here with one of them, I can talk to him using one of ours. Tell him Channel Nine.”
“I’ll ask him, but I ain’t gonna tell him nothing! We’ll see what he says. Whaddaya want?”
“Tell Métin I –”
“How in hell do you know his name?”
“We listened to your radio circuits this morning. We heard a lot of things. Anyway, tell Métin I’ll give him the whole damn depot and everything in it – supplies, weapons, vehicles, the whole lot. That’ll give him enough to supply all your attack groups for months, and give them better weapons as well. However, like I said, I’m under orders not to make any deals with you guys. If I do, they’ll shoot me for disobeying orders in the face of the enemy.” ‘They’ wouldn’t if his embryonic plan worked, but Steve hoped the rebels would accept his assertion at face value. “I need something that’ll give me a good enough reason to go against my orders and give you what you want.”