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

by Bill Roberts

  I could now leave my Kodiak at any time. However, I remain in my seat while I await the report that the rest of 2nd Heavy Armored’s machines are aboard. After about ten minutes the XO’s face appears in my TACNET display. “Iron Six this is Five, all Kodiaks are aboard and harnessed,” she reports.

  “Roger Five. Tell the commanders and staff to meet me in the combat operations center in fifteen minutes.” This will give them enough time to throw their bags in their staterooms and get to the COC. We will have time to unpack later.

  “Aye Aye, Sir,” she replies and her face winks out.

  First, I carefully remove my BioMed plugs. Then, I unbuckle my harness and hit the Master Power button to shut down my Kodiak. I crawl to the pilot’s hatch and press the button to open it. Once I do so the sounds and smells of an amphibious ship during ground loading assault my senses. I grab my bags and toss them onto the platform on the other side of the hatch. I make one last check of the cockpit to make sure I have not accidentally left something behind. That done I crawl out and shut the hatch to my Kodiak. I stand up, stretch mightily, and then pick up my bags and cross the platform to the drop bay access hatch.

  Opening the hatch, I enter a passageway slowly filling up with Kodiak pilots. Following the crowd, I make my way down the passageway towards my stateroom. A feeling of homecoming takes over my thoughts. While there are things to enjoy about garrison life, the best times and greatest adventures of my last thirty years have come while living aboard the Stern. Like a Marine in the age of sail, my ship is my true home. I reach my stateroom and enter. There is not much to it. Just a rack mounted on one bulkhead, a desk mounted on another, a small closet, and a small head. But despite the similarities to a prison cell I love this little space. I throw my bags into the closet, take one last look around and leave.

  The hatch for the COC is already open when I arrive. Entering the room I notice that the XO and Bennie are already here waiting for me. Nobody else has arrived yet. The Marines that will normally staff this room are still loading themselves and their equipment aboard trucks back at the headquarters. It will be a couple more hours yet before all of 2nd Heavy Armored will be aboard.

  Bennie runs his hand through his shaggy brown hair and says: “Before you ask Sir, I already contacted the Four. He says they are running ahead of schedule and should be leaving within the hour. I also contacted Master Guns Franco and told her to formally report to the Division assistant logistics officer that we are all aboard … ahead of schedule. She seemed most pleased that this would likely require waking him up.”

  I feel a surge of pride at the smooth efficiency of my battalion. With people like the XO, Bennie, Hiller, and Franco working for me I really have almost nothing to worry about. In reality I can probably go back to my stateroom and hang out for the next few hours and everything will still go off without a hitch. But there are appearances to maintain. Also, even a well-oiled machine needs constant maintenance. So, I will remain here, do my best to stay out of the way, and just let my presence remind everyone of the need to stay focused and efficient. That being said, I will still leave before everything is done. But, that is also part of the maintenance. My leaving will let everyone relax a bit, and remind them that I have the utmost confidence in their abilities. Like many things in life, good leadership requires balance.

  I say: “Thank you Bennie. You did a great job with the planning for today. Good to see everything falling into place nicely.”

  Normally Bennie would now commence with his beaming and bantering, but instead he looks strangely troubled and remains silent. Before I can ask the XO says: “Relax Benedict. Colonel Morris and I are adults. Everything will be fine.”

  Before the conversation can go any further the new Scout Platoon commander enters the COC. First Lieutenant Pavi Vanske has the blonde hair and blue eyes commonly found among Finns. He walks over to me and in his lightly accented English reports: “Sir, the scout platoon’s Cougars are all aboard and harnessed. The nagging glitch in Sierra One Four’s,” that would be his deputy platoon commander’s Cougar, “right arm acted up again on the march out here. I will have the mechanics look at it first thing tomorrow.”

  Tomorrow will be fine. It will take the rest of the day to get the battalion loaded and settled. Throw in the fact that Lieutenant Colonel Mbiraru Ndiaye will be showing up at noon with his heavy assault squadron and trying to get any maintenance done on a recalcitrant Cougar will probably be a bridge too far. More importantly it really is not necessary. While the Stern will join the rest of the task group in orbit this evening, we will not start our trip to the Elowynn border till tomorrow. That trip will take dozens of folds and the better part of a week. More than enough time to get his Cougar fixed. Another time, another place, I would have him push to get a mechanic started on it as soon as one boarded the ship. This is clearly not the time or place.

  I respond to the report: “Good call Lieutenant Vanske. Best to wait till tomorrow. Any other problems?”

  “No, Sir,” he replies.

  The company commanders begin coming into the COC. I take similar reports from all of them. Once that is done I send them all back to their company offices aboard the Stern. They will monitor the boarding and billeting of their companies from there. That done Bennie, the XO, and I are again alone in the COC.

  Well nothing for it but to get it out and over with. “The XO and I have decided to put our relationship on hiatus. These things happen,” I work hard to keep my face pleasant while I say this. The XO makes no such effort. Her face remains locked in tight professionalism. I continue: “She’s right. Everything is going to be fine.” Right now I most definitely do not feel fine. But I refuse to drag our friends in to this mess.

  Bennie looks at the two of us for a moment then throws his hands up in to the air. His aristocratic baritone becomes razor sharp as he replies: “Fine. I am going to stay out of this.” He points an accusing finger at the XO and then me. “But if I catch either of you moping about, or worse, mucking up my fun in the Pub …” He pauses ominously and then beams. I feel a moment of relief before his next sentence crushes it utterly: “I will tell Gloria. Everything.” I look over at the XO and see that she has noticeably paled at this threat. I probably look even worse. Good God, she would kill us.

  A cloud of smoke wafts past me as I open the hatch to the officer’s pub. With nanites smoking tobacco posed as much of a health risk as breathing pure oxygen. Consequently, it has made a massive comeback. I personally find a bar devoid of tobacco smoke about as interesting as a bar devoid of alcohol. I suck in the smells of refined revelry and make my way to the bar.

  From an operational point of view the day has gone extremely well. 2nd Heavy Armored and HMH-461 have loaded without a hitch. In fact, the Stern had been ready for takeoff for well over an hour before the Marines aboard the Dunham were ready. Right now my Marines are unpacking, hanging out, or sharing beers with 461 and the Stern’s crew in the various enlisted pubs aboard the ship. In the old days the United States Navy did not even allow beer, let alone pubs, aboard their ships. I am so glad common sense has prevailed in the United Humanity Navy and we have adopted the old Royal Navy tradition of carrying enough booze to keep everyone properly motivated.

  I order a pint of lager from the steward manning the bar. He pours me one from the tap and hands it to me in a mug with the Stern’s crest, a stylized Abrams tank superimposed over an angled and fouled anchor, etched into the glass. I nod my thanks and head for the corner table reserved for my circle of friends. Gloria sits there alone nursing a glass of whiskey on ice. The XO and Bennie will be here soon, they are just wrapping up the final details of getting things settled. I imagine Mbiraru will also be here shortly. He is probably just doing the same sort of thing with his squadron. It has only been a month since we have last hung out together. We all worked up for this deployment together. A month ago we conducted our final pre-deployment evaluation exercise togeth
er. We had aced that evaluation as a matter of course. Across the breadth of the Navy and Marine Corps there are few command teams that can match our ability and experience working together.

  I sit down across from Gloria and ask: “How was your leave?”

  “Great,” she replies. Her simple Midwestern accent reminds me of times long past. She smiles and continues: “I spent the whole two weeks in Chicago. The food was great. The company was great. And the city looks as fantastic as ever.” She reaches across the table and touches my hand briefly before asking: “How about you?”

  Part of me wants to unload my troubles on my old friend. But, I remain determined not to drag her into my emotional disarray. Besides, she would probably kill me if she found out. I fix a smile on my face and reply: “San Diego. I sailed, I surfed, and I tried to drink the town dry.”

  She laughs and responds: “Drink San Diego dry? That would have been quite the accomplishment.”

  I take a long sip of my beer. “Jambo!” I turn to see Mbiraru with a beer in each hand heading over to our table. He sits down next to Gloria and smiling broadly continues: “My friends! It is most wonderful to again be in your presence.”

  Gloria wraps her arm around Mbiraru and gives him a quick half-hug before responding: “Good to see you too Mbiraru. How was your leave?”

  I notice his Maasai accent is a little thicker than usual as he answers: “I spent the time with my people in Maasai lands. My kin were, of course, very happy to see me.” His face becomes sober as he continues: “And, I must say, I was very happy to see them. It has been far too long since I last went home.” The smile returns with its usual brilliance. “And you two. What depths of depravity did you sink to on your leave?”

  Gloria assumes a mock affronted expression. “I am a proper woman. I never do anything depraved.”

  Mbiraru waves his hand as he says: “Yes, yes, I am sure you were a model of chastity and sobriety. So, did you spend your leave working in a nunnery or did you simply give out food to the poor?” I do not even try to hide my laughter at his riposte.

  Giving us a rather impressive glower Gloria answers: “I never said anything about chastity and sobriety. You have a rather narrow definition of propriety Mbiraru.” The mock glower disappears and with happy contentment she continues: “I spent my leave enjoying Chicago. It was great.”

  Mbiraru replies: “I once spent a week in Chicago. It is a most agreeable metropolis.” He looks at me and arches his eyebrows meaningfully.

  Again I fix a smile on my face and say: “Surfing and sailing in San Diego.”

  Mbiraru looks like he is about to ask me another question but Bennie and the XO arrive. The XO sits between Gloria and me at the head of the table. Bennie sits at the foot. Excellent timing. I really do not want to talk about my leave anymore. Their arrival starts the whole process over again. Everyone else swaps stories about their leave while I sip my beer. I try very hard to keep my face positive.

  The conversations pass me by in a blur. I wonder what the XO will say. She sits quietly through most of the discourse. The serious expression she had worn throughout the day is absent. But, I imagine this is only because of Bennie’s dire threat. She looks wrong somehow. I fight down a sigh. I should not really care about this anymore. That being said, when she is finally forced to talk about her leave, I listen attentively as she says: “I travelled to San Diego. It was very beautiful. I spent some time at the beach. And they have the most wonderful museums at this place called Balboa Park.”

  Normally one or both of us would concoct stories about our leave that had little to do with truth. It was just one of the difficult parts about hiding our relationship. While it is good to see her not having to lie anymore, it just reminds me of what happened in my quarters this morning. Furthermore, I now have an assault pilot and ship’s captain looking at me a little too closely. I better say something. “Crazy, huh? Small world. Sadly, I did not see the XO while I was there. Would’ve been cool.” Wrap a lie in the truth and you can often hide it well.

  The answer seems to satisfy my friends. We continue to drink and tell tales for a couple of hours. I do my best to look happy and I even manage to get everyone to laugh when I tell them about how Franco had pestered the Division assistant logistics officer reporting every minute change in 2nd Heavy Armored Status’ throughout the day. Mbiraru seems none the wiser. Bennie seems satisfied that I am neither moping nor messing with his pub time. But, a couple of times throughout the evening I catch Gloria studying the XO and I with far too serious an expression. The problem with old and dear friends, especially ones as sensitive as Gloria, is that you can fool them for a little while, but not indefinitely. Great. One more thing to worry about.

  CHAPTER 14

  Five Eyes

  The briefing room feels crowded. Not just physically, although there are certainly a lot of people in here, but emotionally as well. Tension fills the room with a palpable energy. But tension is not alone. Excitement, apprehension, curiosity, and interest also crowd the room. I am standing at the front next to Lance and Langsdorf with the rest of the Kodiak pilots. We wear our newly designed pilot suits. They are very similar to the old flight suit. Mostly the changes involve changing the pockets to more suitable spots. In another shrewd move Langsdorf has ensured that the suits are different colors for different branches of service. On the surface this may seem divisive. We are, after all, one team, but looking at the vast array of uniforms on the crowd facing us I get it. He is just demonstrating that our different backgrounds are no problem at all. In fact, they give us strength.

  The month since leaving Twentynine Palms has been crazy. Immediately upon our return we had brought the rest of Heavy Combat Systems in on what was really going on in Wonderland. There had been fear, worry, and anger to go with that announcement. What there had not been was doubt. Because, on top of the great secret Langsdorf hit us with another ringer. Others would now join us. A whole crop of new Marines and Soldiers. They would join us to begin forming brand new units filled with Kodiaks. Then things got interesting. The new Soldiers and Marines would not just come from the United States. Nope. Five Eyes would be joining us.

  Five Eyes is military jargon for the five English speaking nations. The five English speaking nations of Great Britain, Canada, the United States, Australia and New Zealand have all sorts of interesting treaties. Some of the treaties are about common defense and some are about sharing secrets. Some of the treaties include a couple of the nations, but not the others. However, when they are put all together it basically boils down to this: we all got each other’s backs. Every English speaking nation has different friends and enemies, we all have different goals, but none of us are going to stand by if one of us gets really messed with. Other nations will probably get involved eventually. Personally I imagine NATO will be next. The human race is on the line. But, first we are going to work with our closest allies. Figure some things out. Plan for the future. The fact that the militaries of the Five Eyes just happen to be head and shoulders above the rest of the world’s is just icing on the cake.

  Today the first crop of future Kodiak pilots have arrived. Like Lance and I they have all been sent here without any explanation. Time to remedy that. Langsdorf begins: “My name is Colonel Bart Langsdorf. I am the officer in charge of Heavy Combat Systems. Heavy Combat Systems works on developing the future of mounted warfare. You saw them outside as you were unloading the buses from the airport.” Langsdorf pauses and hits a button on the remote he holds in his hand. Behind us a large 3D display projects an image of a Kodiak and a Cougar side by side. “The larger vehicle is a Kodiak. We refer to it as a Main Battle System. It is intended to replace the tank as a weapon system. Do not think of it as a next generation tank. It is exponentially more capable and powerful.” He pauses for another quick moment to scan the audience. They are riveted. Hell, I would be in their shoes. “The smaller vehicle is a Cougar. We call it a Heavy Reconnai
ssance System and it replaces cavalry fighting vehicles for use in the armored reconnaissance role.”

  Langsdorf hits a button on the remote and the display goes dark. He looks out at the sea of new faces. His face becomes utterly serious and he continues: “Those machines are not why you are here. Oh you will learn to pilot them. You will learn how to use them to their full capability. But that is just a means to an end. The real reason you are here is this.” He punches a button and a rendition of the Milky Way Galaxy fills the display. “Somewhere out there something is coming for us,” his voice lowers and fills with menace, “and when they do you all will introduce them to a whole new level of kicking ass.”

  Langsdorf tells the tale of Wonderland. He talks of hacking, and Watchers and Synti. He describes the highlights of Kodiak development. He talks about creating a new machine and perfecting it for warfare. He speaks of red, rocky hills and vaporized tank hulks. Then he starts talking about us. He talks of men and women from every branch of service. His tale turns to pilots and tankers and working together. While he speaks I watch. I look upon the Marines and Soldiers. I examine the Aussies and Brits. I study the Canadians and Kiwis. Most of them are tankers, many of them had fought in the wars of the Twenty-First Century, and some of them are even old comrades from my tanking days. When Langsdorf talks of the Watchers and the Synti I see shock and confusion on many of their faces. I see incredulity and disbelief on others. When he talks of Kodiak development I see shock and confusion become curiosity. I watch as incredulity and disbelief become interest. When he talks of pilots and tankers and every branch of service working together I watch as determination fills practically every face.