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

by Bill Roberts

  I fight back tears. God above, why did a woman like this ever marry a chump like me? “Thanks Liz,” I reply.

  She smiles at me. It is an amazing smile that only something like twenty years together can produce. I see everything great about my life with Liz in that smile. “I should be the one thanking you. You’re a good man and the best husband ever.”

  The dread and fear rise up in my chest. I worry so much about what might happen to my family. It mingles with the love I feel for Liz and the kids and the sadness of not being with them. It is entirely too much. “Love you Liz,” I say. “I have to go. I will call again as soon as I can.” I have nothing else to do, but I am not going to be able to talk to her much longer without cracking completely.

  Liz waves at me cheerfully and says: “See you then. Bye.” And with that she cuts the connection and I am again alone in my room. I get up shakily from my chair. I lie down on my bed and try to get all of the emotions swirling through me under control.

  After a couple of hours, I regain enough control to head down to lunch. In fact, seeing some of my friends here will probably do a great deal to help. I get up from my bed and leave my room. The hallway is empty. Everyone is probably already at the chow hall. I tromp down the stairs head for the familiar double doors and, sure enough, when I bang them open I see the chow hall is packed. Not all of the new students are getting nanites today. I see a field of old friends and new faces. I spot Lance sitting at a table with Chief Warrant Officer Mike Malloy. Perfect.

  I grab some food. Today is Mexican Day. I love Mexican Day, even though chow hall Mexican food bore almost zero resemblance to anything you would actually get in Mexico. Plate loaded I head over to Lance and Malloy. “Why hello Lance,” I say as I grab a seat across from him. Something in my tone puts Lance instantly on guard. Malloy also notices and looks up from his food curiously. “Anything interesting going on? Any deep dark secrets you feel you need to get off your chest? Anything, you know, your best friend should be aware of?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about Shawn,” Lance replies. Interesting. He seems to mean it.

  “Well, how about this to help,” I say good naturedly. “I saw the most interesting thing when I dropped my students off for their nanites this morning.”

  At first Lance does not draw the connection, but after a few seconds he goes pale and chokes out: “She’s wearing it?”

  Before I can respond Malloy interjects: “Wearing what?” We both turn to look at him and he repeats his question: “Who is wearing what?”

  Lance looks unable to respond so I gleefully do so for him: “Oh Jennifer Roberts of the U.S. Army Medical Corps, just happens to be sporting a brand new diamond ring on the ring finger of her left hand.” I turn back to Lance and continue: “I’m just asking Romeo here when the hell he was planning on telling his best friend about it.”

  “No Shit,” Malloy responds. He slaps Lance on the back loudly. “It’s about time. Congratulations. When’s the party to celebrate?” That is an excellent question. Good to see Malloy keeping perspective.

  Lance is still looking a little pale: “She wasn’t supposed to wear it.”

  I remember Liz’s advice to go easy on him. In fact, since he isn’t fighting back picking on him anymore would not be cool. “She should be wearing it,” I say. “So you get razzed by your friends a little bit. That’s all just part of the fun.”

  Lance shakes his head. “It’s not that. I just wanted to keep it on the down low. We have a bunch of new students here, and with how serious things are around here I just didn’t want this to be a distraction.”

  Malloy beats me to it. “Sir, that’s just stupid.” Lance snaps his head over to Malloy. “This isn’t a distraction. This is what life’s all about.”

  I pile on: “Yep. Great to see actually. So like Chief Malloy said, when’s the party?”

  Lance lowers his voice and leans in: “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I mean she’s a captain and I’m a Lieutenant Colonel. That is going to raise some eyebrows. Not everybody here knows I was just a boot,” brand new, “major when we met.”

  This is actually a fair point. Plenty of the people around here could rightfully point to the regs against fraternization. However, there are several mitigating factors. First, she is soldier and not a Marine, this gave them an important degree of separation. Second she is in the medical corps, and the medical people in the military tend to be seen as medical people first and military people second. Third, they are similar in age (Lance is only four years older than Roberts). This has nothing to do with any military issues, it will just help normalize the idea. Finally, and most importantly, Roberts is not in Lance’s chain of command. This will help avoid the perception of bias. Because of these factors the eye raising will be minimal. Yeah they are probably violating the letter of the law, but in spirit they are not. Furthermore, the regulations change when you get married. If they are married they are completely legal. Some of the new guys will be put out, but all of the old hands will be fine with this. And the new guys will just have to follow our lead.

  “I understand your concern Lance,” I say. “But in this case I don’t think it will be an issue. What I would really be worried about is Langsdorf. He’s going to be merciless.”

  Lance groans and leans back in the chair. “That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want her to wear the ring. He’s never going to let us hear the end of it.”

  “Oh don’t worry Lance,” I reply. “I’m sure he’ll drop this in a year or so.” Lance buries his head in his hands. “Enough with the histrionics. You need to buck up. The best defense against Langsdorf is a good offense.” As I say the last sentence I feel somebody sit down on the bench next to me. Lance still has his head in his hands, but judging by the look on Malloy’s face I am about to get wrecked.

  “Like you have any idea what you’re talking about Shawn,” Langsdorf says derisively. Crap. I feel like I have been ambushed. “The only thing offensive about you is your smell. Puppies are more frightening than you.” Crap, Crap. I got nothing. Langsdorf continues to roll over me. “So what did you two idiots do now that you need to defend against?”

  Lance comes through huge. He raises his head from his hand and with utmost confidence belts out: “Sir, recognizing the desperate need to demonstrate how to conduct a successful personal relationship to the commanding officer of Heavy Combat Systems, Captain Roberts and I have decided to get married. I know this is a challenging subject for you, but Jennifer and I hope our example can help you with this.” Langsdorf has been divorced more than once. And his last wife had lasted all of a month and a half.

  My jaw drops. I cannot believe Lance went there. On the one hand it was suicidally dangerous. On the other hand, it was brilliant. Malloy has burst out laughing. Lance has a fierce yet terrified look on his face. Oh God I wish I could get a picture of it. Oddly enough I hear nothing from the man sitting next to me. I turn to look at him. He has the strangest look on his face. He looks … proud. Langsdorf never looks proud. I mean sometimes he will unbend from his chronic sarcasm to demonstrate true happiness with us, but proud?

  “Lance Benson, that is the best news I have heard in two and a half fucking years,” Langsdorf says proudly. “You are two of my favorite people. I am sure you are going to have many happy years together.” He pauses for a moment and then says: “With all the craziness going on around here it’s good to see two people rise above it. I’m proud of you two for being the ones to remind us of what we are really defending.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” Lance responds seriously.

  “Just make sure you let her plan everything, she’s obviously the brains of this partnership,” Langsdorf quips. Good thing too, I was beginning to worry that somebody had catastrophically altered the space-time continuum.

  CHAPTER 15

  Reunion

  I spot four more Deeken assault vehicles a
s they burst out from behind a hill to my right. I spin the Kodiak right, line up the main gun, and nail one with a hypervelocity projectile. It explodes in a satisfying gout of flame and flying parts. I line up another one while I send a message out on TACNET: “Alpha Six, you got another platoon of enemy vics,” vehicles, “heading in from the west. I am working them.” To my right the battalion’s new Master Gunner, Chief Warrant Officer Five Juniper Jones fires her Kodiak’s main gun. Another Deeken vehicle disintegrates in thunder and flame. The remaining two make a sharp turn towards us. This fails to throw off my aim and I smash another one. The fourth vehicle lasts a split second longer before Gunner Jones finishes it off.

  “Alpha Six, this is Iron Six,” I send out on TACNET. “Enemy platoon destroyed. Prepare for support by fire.” Alpha Six gives me a quick roger.

  Jones contacts me on a private line: “That was a fair bit of shootin’, Six.”

  Gunner Jones had been promoted out of Delta Company to replace Gunner Wright. Over the last year I have learned that she is at least as good as Larry was in her ability as a pilot and the tireless effort with which she approaches the job of Master Gunner. I smile and reply: “Thanks Gunner, not so bad yourself.”

  She smiles back and continues in her Texas drawl: “Thank ya kindly. I’ll remember that little courtesy tonight in the waterin’ hole.” Jones always sounds like that. The best part about it is how she comes to sound like that. She was born in ‘Fourteen. Not Two Thousand Fourteen, but Nineteen Fourteen. She was raised on her family’s ranch in West Texas. When the Synti invaded Earth her nursing home had been isolated enough that she survived. Given nanites in the post invasion reconstruction she has ended up forever young like the rest of us. Having been a WASP in World War II she had signed up for the new United Humanity Marine Corps as soon as it was formed. Watching her drive her Kodiak I imagine the Germans and the Japanese ought to be thankful the Army did not let WASPs fly combat missions back in those days.

  The assault has more or less been a running battle to this point. The drop had been smooth, but as soon as we began moving in on the Deeken pirate’s compound we came under attack from dozens of their fast moving assault vehicles. This dry rocky ball has red rolling hills along our route of march that remind me of Rainbow Canyon back in Twentynine Palms. They provide perfect terrain for the Deeken vehicles. The vehicles have almost no armor, but on their six wheels they move incredibly fast. Using their speed and the terrain they have ambushed us from almost every direction. The assault vehicles have a monster of a cannon on them and the charged particles the cannons fire have proved particularly adept at punching through Kodiak armor. The running battles with the enemy assault vehicles have delayed us for over thirty minutes now. Not only that, my battalion is already down six vehicles. Of course we have destroyed thirty-six of the enemy vehicles, but a one to six kill ratio is on the wrong side of acceptable. At least the fast attack vehicles have all concentrated on the Kodiaks. If they had gone after the infantry we would have a lot more than six machines down.

  Today the whole regimental combat team has dropped, the artillery battalion, the heavy armor battalion, and all three of the infantry battalions. This has become our standard practice thus far on this deployment. Whether the target is heavily defended or not does not factor in. It is all part of Colonel Rainer’s plan for preparing for war with the Tangul. He wants to make sure we all work together and go through the full planning and execution of a combined arms assault every time. That way when the inevitable war with the Tangul begins we will be as practiced and prepared as possible. As I predicted before our deployment the Tangul’s proxy war has not gone well for them. So far we have just rolled over our targets, Deeken or otherwise. But this Deeken stronghold seems to be better prepared than most. We had expected the Deeken to provide the stiffest resistance yet and today they are finally delivering. Damn them.

  From the seat behind me I hear Captain William Hildebrandt the Fire Support Officer come over the Kodiak’s intercom: “Sir, I just talked to the Air Officer,” the Air Officer is riding in the XO’s Kodiak. “He says the Vespines with 222 are ready to go. I got the arty,” artillery, “battalion on standby ready to go. Just waiting for your word.”

  We have finally reached our support by fire position after fighting through the Deeken vehicles. This time Alpha, Bravo, and Delta make up the support by fire force. Charlie is off with the infantry, waiting to lead their assault. The battalion is staged on the military crest of a series of hills waiting to commence firing on the Deeken compound. I am on the battalion’s right flank behind Alpha. I could push up on the ridge, but somebody needs to cover Alpha’s western flank. I could have asked Alpha to refuse their right, but I felt that it would interfere with their effectiveness in the support by fire, more than it would help the support by fire if I am part of it. I look at my tactical display and see that everyone is set and ready to go. The scouts in their lighter Cougars are lined up to our north covering our rear. Myself and the Gunner are covering the right. The XO and her wingman are covering the left, and Bennie and his wingman are acting as the battalion’s reserve in the middle. We are ready.

  Using the intercom I tell Hildebrandt: “Time on target zero five.” That means five minutes after the hour, which is about six minutes from now. This will give the flyboys and cannon cockers enough time to do what they needed to do to deliver their fires together.

  Hildebrandt responds: “Aye Aye Sir. TOT zero five.” He then uses his own TACNET connection to start passing that information to the artillery battalion and the air officer. The air officer will pass that to the pilots. He then starts drawing lines and vectors in his display. He will make sure that the artillery fires and Vespines do not accidentally run into each other in the air above us.

  I hit the button for TACNET and say: “Guidons, this is Six. TOT is zero five.” My leaders all roger up. This is all part of the plan, so they know what to expect. As soon as the artillery and air start bombing the target they will pop their weapons over the crest line and begin firing. Hopefully, we can get this nasty fight back in the box and finish smashing the Deeken with ease.

  While the clock counts down my TACNET lights up. The XO stares at me through my display. Our first couple of drops on this deployment I would feel a twinge when I saw her face. Now? Nothing. She is just the XO, and I am just the CO. The way it should have always been. She reports: “Six, this is Five. Iron Four and Stallion Six,” the call signs for Hiller, and Mbiraru respectively, “are requesting permission to bring recovery crews planetside for our down vics.”

  She has contacted me on a private channel. Good. Something odd is going on here. “Five, this is Six. Why would we break procedure? We don’t start recovery until the area is secure. The area is definitely not secure.” I am mostly sure we have destroyed all of the Deeken’s vehicles. However, mostly sure is nowhere near good enough to risk Mbiraru’s Oxes, and my mechanics aboard them.

  “Alpha Two Two’s biomed unit is reporting that Gunner Fitzpatrick is crashing.”

  Sometimes when a Kodiak is knocked out it is so damaged that it loses all functionality. However, most of the time some of the machine will still work. Apparently, Gunner Fitzpatrick’s TACNET has remained operational. TACNET is programed to send biomed information whenever it believes its pilot is incapacitated. In this case Gunner Fitzpatrick is apparently in extreme distress and will likely die soon if he does not get help. I check my chronograph, one minute till TOT. I must make a decision now. Is one life worth the risk to all of the Marines that will try and save him? Of course it is. You do not break faith with your Marines. Ever. I hit a button on TACNET and rope Lieutenant Vanske, the scout platoon commander, and Bennie into our conversation. I quickly say: “Okay we got a Marine in trouble. Five you and Scouts head back our route of march and start securing the areas around our downed Kodiaks. Three,” Bennie’s call sign, “I need you to shift to our left and cover the left rear and left flank o
f the battalion. I will take the right rear and right flank. Questions?”

  Behind me Hildebrandt shouts into the TACNET and intercom at the same time: “Shot! Target number mike bravo five two one five. Arty rounds in the air. Impact in three zero seconds.”

  Thirty seconds till TOT. Bennie, the XO, and Vanske shake their head on TACNET while giving me a verbal response indicating they have no questions. I transmit: “Good, go now and good luck.” I put my Kodiak into motion sliding around to the right rear corner of the battalion’s position. In my display I see the XO and the scouts heading north at max speed and I see Bennie take up his position on the left.

  Behind me I hear Hildebrandt shout: “Splash! Target number mike bravo five two one five.” I literally feel the ground shake as the artillery battalion’s fires come crashing down on the far side of the hill. There are four artillery batteries in 2nd Battalion 12th Marines. They each have eight self-propelled guns. Each gun is a massive eight-wheeled vehicle mounting a single electro-magnetic weapon. The weapon could fire a one hundred fifty-five millimeter projectile at speeds up to sixty-thousand kilometers per hour.

  The reason they fire such a large projectile has to do with old fashioned physics. Artillery is an indirect fire weapon. That means you have to shoot over things like hills and ridges to hit your target. Therefore, they rarely fire their artillery projectiles at the speeds we fire our slugs from a Kodiak’s weapons. This means that the kinetic energy of the projectile is limited. So the projectile has to be bigger so we can pack all sorts of nasty stuff into it. In this case each of the fifty kilogram projectiles is packed with about twenty kilograms of modern military grade high explosives. These explosives are, conservatively, five times more powerful than the explosives I used in Iraq over three decades ago. To add even more power to our modern artillery the self-propelled guns could infinitely vary the velocity of their projectiles. This allows them to start firing at a high speed, high trajectory and then lower the speed and trajectory with each following shot. This allows them to shoot up to five projectiles before the first ones land. When timed right the first volley of an artillery barrage will be a simultaneous impact of these first five projectiles. After that one will land every fifteen seconds as the artillery assumes the sustained rate of fire. With thirty-two artillery tubes arrayed fifty-kilometers to our north one hundred and sixty high explosive projectiles land on the Deeken compound within a tenth of a second.