Though the Stars Fall (United Humanity Marine Corps Book 1)

by Bill Roberts

  The tent bursts into laughter. The laughter is like rain after a long drought. It washes away the tension like so much dust and dirt. Even though it is at my expense I join in heartily. After a moment Langsdorf looks squarely at Lance and me and says: “I heard that last statement as I was walking in.”

  The tension comes back in force. There is an implied question in that statement. So I answer: “It’s time, Bart.” I had never called Langsdorf by his first name. It is a calculated risk. One does not call senior officers by their first name. However, the secret the three of us had been carrying all these years and months was above things like militaries and countries. It affected humanity. It should be dealt with in a human way.

  “Why do you say that Shawn?” As Langsdorf says this he seems more curious than concerned. Interesting.

  “They deserve to know,” I reply.

  “Is that the only reason?” Langsdorf tone remains curious as he says this.

  “We aren’t a bunch of test dummies anymore. We’re a unit and we’re comrades.” I pause for a moment. Suddenly I think of Liz and the kids. My God their lives are truly on the line and we are playing stupid secrecy and dominance games. Fuck this: “I got a wife and kids who, even though they don’t know it, need us to be ready. We don’t have time for this shit anymore.”

  After another tense couple of moments Langsdorf sighs heavily and says: “You’re right. I brought this up to the President and the Joint Chiefs in our meeting after the debrief. Surprisingly, they agreed with me.” He reaches in to his pocket and pulls out a couple of boxes. He throws one at Lance and the other at me. I catch it and open it to see a pair of shining silver oak leaves. The rank insignia of a Lieutenant Colonel. “Something else came up in that meeting. Consider yourselves promoted. The Commandant was pretty adamant about it. I really wouldn’t turn this one down Shawn.”

  I stare at the silver oak leaves. The Commandant himself had to force this promotion through. Nobody got promoted after refusing it. Trying to hide how touched I am I reply solemnly: “Not this time, Sir.”

  “Good.” He looks around the tent and continues: “I was gonna do something a little more formal for the promotion, but it seems as if something more important has come up.” He looks at Lance and me. “You two go outside and make sure the area is secure. I don’t want anybody overhearing what I’m about to say.”

  Lance and I head outside and do a quick circuit around the tent. It is all clear. I ask Lance: “One of us needs to stay out here. Do you want to go in or should I?”

  “You started this. You might as well finish it. I got watch,” he replies.

  I head back in to the tent and report: “All clear, Sir. Lance will make sure it stays that way.”

  Langsdorf takes a deep breath and begins: “What I am about to tell you is classified beyond anything you can imagine. In fact only a couple hundred or so people know about it.” He pauses to make sure that registers than continues: “It all started about six years ago when the NSA got hacked …”

  I listen again to the tale he told me six months ago. While I do I think of the billions of people living on Earth going about their lives in blissful ignorance. I reaffirm the oath I made six months ago. Whatever it takes. Whatever it takes to be ready, I will do it.

  CHAPTER 13

  Loading

  The beeping will just not go away. Its persistence drags me painfully out of my slumber. I wake up just in time to see Svetlana reach over to the bedside table and shut off her personal alarm. Through the blinds of my bedroom I see that it is still dark outside. “What time is it?” I ask muzzily.

  “Zero Three Hundred,” Svetlana answers in her best XO voice.

  She turns on the lamp on the bedside table and begins getting dressed. In three hours we will start loading our Kodiaks onto the Stern. We do not need to wake up this early to make that happen. Svetlana just needs to get up at this miserable hour so she can sneak back into her quarters before the rest of 2nd Heavy Armored starts waking up. She zips up her pilot’s suit and sits down on the bed and starts putting her boots on.

  This will most likely be our last time waking up together for a long time to come. This thought depresses me. My near death, Bennie discovering our secret, war clouds on the horizon, all of these things have forced us to stop and think about how much we really mean to each other. We have both come to the same conclusion: everything. This realization has brought subtle, but wonderful changes to our relationship over the last year.

  Rotating into a sitting position I sneak a quick peck on her cheek. “I don’t know how you do it, but even at three in the morning you look fantastic.”

  She does not respond. Her hands methodically finish tying her boots and she stands. She turns to face me and her sober expression worries me. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I love you.” The way she says this only heightens my worry instead of allaying it.

  “I love you too,” I reply.

  Her face goes from sober to sad. “We have always had to be so careful. But, so much has changed over the last year. Lately it seemed like we could relax a little. I enjoyed that very much. Now, with the war coming …” she trails off.

  “I don’t know what will happen,” I pause. Sometimes when there is something hard to say, the only thing to do is just say it. “We both know the odds of the two of us surviving a war with the Tangul are not very good. And we both know that one of us dying is going to wreck the survivor.” We both recognize this, but have never said it.

  “It makes me wonder if we are doing the right thing anymore,” she replies.

  Dear God I do not like where this conversation is heading. “Love is never the wrong thing. You have become the most important thing in my life.”

  Her sorrow seems to grow as she says: “And you have become the most important thing in mine.” She pauses and meets my eyes with hers. “Ever since Tangul’s incursion I have been thinking a lot about the future. The coming war always seemed far away, at least far enough away that I could ignore it. But now. Now it is very close. During a war with the Tangul neither of us can afford to mean so much to each other.” What is going on here? Svetlana smiles sadly at me and continues: “I tried very hard to ignore that over the last month, but it is the truth.”

  I start to respond but before I can say anything Svetlana’s face becomes stern and she starts talking firmly and rapidly: “With the war coming we can no longer afford to mean so much to each other. I do not know what it would do to me to lose you, but I know it would be bad. Even worse, I do know what it will do to you, and I cannot be responsible for that. More importantly you have a responsibility to everyone in this battalion. You are a good man Shawn Morris and a good commander. I will not allow how I feel about you to jeopardize that. I cannot allow you to feel a responsibility to worry about me more than the other Marines here. You have always been so careful about that, but we both know things have changed.” Her face sets even harder. “So, I am ending this.” I feel shock roll through me with tidal force. I open my mouth and start babbling ... something, anything to keep this from happening. She holds up a hand before I can anything more than an inarticulate noise. “I will not hear any arguments. I have thought this over very carefully. War with the Tangul will leave no room for us. The fear of losing me would drive you to try and protect me. I will not have you neglect your other duties to do that. Moreover, I cannot let something happening to me affect you.” She pauses and her face softens. “When the war is over we can try this again … if we both somehow survive it.” Svetlana turns around and leaves. I literally cannot speak. The sound of the door to my apartment closing drifts into my room. It is a simple sound, but one that carries with it an ocean of pain and anguish.

  I am not really sure what happens over the next couple of hours. They pass in a complete blur of shock, anger and depression. At Zero Five Hundred my alarm goes off. It shakes me out of my hebetude. I b
ury my emotions deep. I am nowhere near resolving them, but I have a job to do. I get up and mechanically prepare for the day. I concentrate very hard on these simple tasks. I take extra care while shaving. I make sure everything is squared away on my pilot’s suit. I tie my boots with careful precision.

  Dressed and presentable I go to my small kitchen for breakfast. In preparation for deployment I have thrown all of the extra food away except for a pair of protein bars I have left out for my final meal here. I unwrap them and eat methodically. I wash them down with a large glass of water then carefully wash and dry the glass and return it to the cabinet. That done I pick up my two bags that hold all of the possessions I will take with me aboard the Stern. I leave my apartment and head down the stairs to my office. Normally, leaving my apartment for deployment was kind of a sad event for me. Today I feel nothing.

  Once in my office I drop my bags and head into the command deck. There are a handful of Marines there doing last minute things. My XO is already there talking to Bennie. I bury my emotions further. Just concentrate on my duty. I walk over to them and ask: “Is everything on schedule?”

  Crisply my XO replies: “Yes, Sir. Major Jones-Fairly and I will be heading down to the Kodiak bay shortly.” Over the last year I had noticed that the XO had become more relaxed. No longer, her face is locked in serious professionalism.

  With cool precision, and an expression to match, I return: “Very well, XO. I will head down now.” Nothing more to say really. Not anymore.

  I turn around head to my office and grab my bags. With them in my hands I walk through the command deck in silence. Part of me notices that Bennie’s normally jovial face looks stricken. No fool, the XO’s and my body language and tone have told him the gist of what happened two hours ago. As I pass through the door I wonder: How does he ever win at poker?

  The Kodiak bay lies buried underneath 2nd Heavy Armored’s headquarters. The huge bay bustles with activity as the Marines make their final preparations. Long rows of gantries support the Kodiaks and Cougars of the battalion. Work stations with the tools and machines used to repair and maintain these vehicles dot the floor. Bright lights set in the ceiling cast a harsh white glare on the activity below. With an experienced eye I note the order among the chaos. Nothing specifically tells me so, but I can feel that everything is running smoothly. I expect this, but it is good to see at any rate. I work my way through the flurry of rushing Marines and moving gear to my Kodiak.

  I stop at the feet of my war machine and look up at it. Despite, the pain of the last few hours I feel a familiar thrill. The nanites that make up the ‘paint’ of the machine are set to a mottled green, black, and brown. I take a deep breath and smell the oil and ozone smell of a Kodiak. I place my hand on one of the legs and focus on the solid feel given off by the armor. I may enjoy being a Marine. I may be genuinely interested in being part of the shield and sword of humanity. But, I love being a Kodiak pilot. I can almost feel the power and grace of the machine through my hand. Today we will load aboard the Stern and head off towards a dark future. But, by God, aboard my Kodiak, with my Marines at my side, I am ready for that future. And when the Tangul launch their inevitable war we will burn them for it. Burn them to the ground and dance in the ashes.

  Corporal Jeremiah Jones interrupts my reverie. “Sir, she is all ready to go. Do you need any help carrying your bags?”

  Corporal Jones is the chief mechanic for my Kodiak. Part of the Headquarters maintenance detachment, it is his job to keep my Kodiak operational. It is considered an honor to be the CO’s mechanic. Only the best Marines get picked by Gunny Rossi for the job. Corporal Jones fit the bill in spades. I reply: “No Corporal Jones, I will carry my own bags. Thank you for asking.”

  “No problem, Sir. See you aboard ship,” he returns.

  I pick up my bags and take the gantry elevator up to the top. I walk across the grating to the platform at the cockpit entrance. I open a panel and press the button for the hatch. It opens up on the Kodiak in front of and beneath me. I throw my bags through and crawl in after them closing the hatch behind me with another button. Once inside I situate my bags in the back seat and then settle in to the front, pilot’s, seat. I buckle myself in and lift the flap on my pilot’s suit to hook up the hoses from the BioMed unit. The BioMed hoses plug into special plugs surgically implanted into my right abdomen. The plugs are color coded and in different shapes to prevent mistakes. I carefully plug in the catheter, check for snugness, and repeat the process for blood in and blood out. We always do this. The odds of me being in my Kodiak more than an hour are virtually zero. Doesn’t matter. Repetition and discipline are hallmarks of being a Marine for good reason. Because you do it every time, you never forget to do it. Properly plugged in I take a deep breath and firmly press the Master Power button.

  I feel the Kodiak come to life around me. The familiar feeling of power settles upon me like a comfortable blanket. The TACNET login screen comes up and I start the litany: “Lieutenant Colonel Morris, Shawn eighteen oh two.”

  TACNET replies “Password please.”

  “Better to fight for something than live for nothing.” I always admired Old Blood and Guts. Crazy bastard, but probably the finest warrior America had ever produced.

  “Password accepted. Welcome to TACNET Iron Six.”

  I check the chronometer on my display. It shows Zero Five Forty. I have five minutes until the XO reports 2nd Heavy Armored’s readiness. In times past I would have opened a channel to the Stern just to greet Gloria. Today, I do not really feel like it. I think about the coming reunion with Gloria and Mbiraru. Normally I would look forward to this very much. The first night of deployment in the Officer’s Pub is usually a delightful time. But tonight I will just have to pretend that everything is as it always was, with the XO standing right there, her every action reminding me of what I have now lost.

  “Iron Six, this is Iron Five.” The XO’s face pops up in the TACNET display.

  “Go ahead Iron Five,” I reply. I try very hard to look at her face without looking at her face.

  The XO reports crisply: “All units report ready for movement.”

  “Roger Five.” I open a channel to all of my commanders and continue: “All Iron elements, this is Iron Six. We will commence our movement at Zero Five Fifty. Headquarters will lead the way, followed by Scouts, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and then Delta. I want everyone to look smart. Let’s show ‘em how it is done. Iron Six out.”

  I while away the next five minutes double checking all of my systems. Everything is fully operational of course, but it is just a good habit to maintain. When the chronograph ticks over to Zero Five Fifty I put my Kodiak into motion. I press both control sticks forward to get out from underneath the gantry and then yank the right stick back to pivot to my right. I press them both forward again and move between the rows of war machines heading for the ramp that will take me to the surface. The Kodiak gracefully and quickly crosses through the bay and easily climbs up the ramp. This early in the morning the Sun is not up but twilight lightens the sky to the east as I emerge from 2nd Heavy Armored’s subterranean heavy machine shelter.

  The ramp leads to one of the thoroughfares that run through the United Humanity Marine Corps’ home base. Military Police vehicles have blocked off the street to prevent traffic from interfering with our movement. Their flashing lights fill the pre-dawn darkness with blue strobes as I head down the road towards the starship landing pads to the west. Behind me stretch the sixty-two Kodiaks and six Cougars of the battalion. Marines stop whatever they are doing and watch us go by. There is no fanfare. No bands, no speeches, nothing to encourage us as we head for the counter-piracy war on the Elowynn border. The Marine Corps has been sending units out on this mission for almost eight years now. It has become routine. Why celebrate the routine?

  As I make my way down the road the landing pads come into view. There are three huge ships parked on them. They are the t
hree amphibious ships of the task group. We call them amphibious ships because of tradition. While the Navy and Marines now ply outer space instead of oceans our traditions remain largely the same. In the time before the Synti we called ships that carried Marines amphibious ships. No reason to change that just because of a little thing like a complete change in the course of humanity. On the right is the UHNS Andrew K. Stern, a Timmerman class landing ship (tank) or LST. On the left is the UHNS Harvey C. Barnum, an Agerholm class landing ship (artillery) which for various arcane naval reasons is known as an LPA. I could see the artillery vehicles of 2nd Battalion, 12th Marines loading aboard her now. The ship in the middle is slightly larger than the other two. It is the UHNS Jason L. Dunham, a Basilone class landing ship (dock) or LPD. It will carry the entire 2nd Marine Regiment. I work my way past the Marines loading aboard the Dunham and head for the Stern.

  I open a new channel on my TACNET. “Stern this is Iron 6. We are approaching from the east and I request permission to board with sixty-two Kodiaks and six Cougars.”

  Commander Gloria Johansen’s blue eyes twinkle at me through the display. “Good morning Shawn,” she replies. “You and the boys and girls are welcome to board at any time. I will make sure the Officer’s Pub has chilled the beer and decanted the whiskey.”

  Despite the rough emotion of this morning I find myself smiling. That is what old friends are for. Helping you through the rough spots. Maybe tonight will not be so bad after all. I picture the XO in my mind. No it will still be awful. I work hard to keep the smile on my face as I reply: “Excellent. See you shortly.” I kill the TACNET link and continue towards the Stern.

  The Stern has lowered a ramp that leads into the bow of the ship. The ramp connects to an entrance that is on the same level as the drop bays. As I reach the ramp the Stern looms over me like a metal mountain. When you are aboard you forget just how incredibly massive she is. Good God, mankind can make some truly awesome things. I maneuver my Kodiak up the ramp and head for my bay about halfway down the length of the ship. Powerful lights inside the ship light my way. I move down a long wide passageway that runs the length of the ship. Just past the ramp that leads up to Stern’s landing bay I reach my spot. I carefully walk my Kodiak into my drop bay and stop just underneath the bay’s harness. As my machine comes to a halt huge arms drop down, attach to the back of my Kodiak and lift it up securing it to the ship.