“Come on,” he said to the Navy lieutenant.
“Where’re we going?”
“To the cave.”
Jasper didn’t mean to be curt. The lieutenant hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he was alive because the lieutenant’s flight leader, some guy that went by the improbable name of Skeets, had wiped out the attacking mercs. But at the moment, Jasper was more worried about finding his wife and family.
No, not my entire family, he thought with a pang. Not Christiaan.
He knew he was still in shock, and he knew he had to grieve, but that would have to wait until after he found Keela. He had to hold back until then; otherwise he might break down completely.
The lieutenant seemed to understand. After babbling on about this Skeets and what he’d done, he seemed to realize that Jasper needed some time. For the last 20 minutes, Lieutenant Klocek—“Mountie,” he’d asked to be called—silently followed him around.
And now, probably not knowing anything about the cave, he hadn’t argued. He just followed, holding what had been Christiaan’s UKI.
Pirate’s Cave, named by generations of children who’d played in its depths, was a good 30-minute walk past the town and on up a steep trail on the slopes of Mount Varken. Jasper felt a pull, as if Keela was calling him, and he sped up the pace, but at 78 standard years old, he was beginning to feel the passage of time. He knew he had another strong 30 or 40 years before old age really set in, but he wasn’t a spring chicken anymore. At the switchback, he had to stop and catch his breath.
This is where Keela was when we last spoke, he realized. Just a day ago. Twenty standard hours.
“How much farther?” Lieutenant Klocek—Mountie—asked, stopping beside him.
The lieutenant wasn’t breathing hard, which hardly seemed fair. He was a pilot, not a Marine, after all, and Jasper thought they must spend their service sitting on their butts in their planes, not conducting manual labor on the farm.
“Maybe five minutes,” Jasper said, remembering when Keela had said the same thing to him.
But he didn’t have a passel of kids to herd, so once he caught his breath, it probably would be only five minutes for the two of them. He waited another few moments, hands on his knees before straightening and starting up the slope again. The dawn was beginning to make itself known when he saw the large rock at the side of the trail that marked the opening of the cave.
Pirate’s Cave wasn’t much of a cave. The opening was small, and a person had to squirm around the Sentinel Rock to get to it. The first passage was only nine meters deep, with the overhead dropping to less than a meter in height. After clearing the constricted space, though, the main passage opened up, partially natural and partially man-made. The main cavern was 20 more meters down the passage. The “Cathedral” was almost 15 meters across, and in the back of it, another innocuous passage, low to the ground, led to a secondary cavern. This was where the villagers were supposed to hide from the mercs.
As they entered the cave, Mountie snapped on his light, for which Jasper was grateful. He hadn’t thought to bring one.
There were signs of passage. An entire village couldn’t pass by anywhere without dropped wrappers, water pouches, and other detritus of civilization. Where the ceiling dropped to a meter above the passage’s ground, a small fuzzy kitten was pushed up against the wall where a child had dropped it. Jasper pocketed the shocking pink toy as he crawled forward.
When his hand hit something hard, he picked it up, holding it so he could better see it in the lieutenant’s light. It was a clip of some sort, and he was puzzled for a moment before he realized what its presence signified and almost dropped it. He didn’t recognize it, but he recognized the style. It was a military clip, probably designed to attach something to a combat harness. No one in the village had that type of equipment. At least one merc had been in the cave.
Jasper scrambled ahead, anxious to get into the main cavern. He crawled in, stood, and ran to the opening of the second cavern even before the lieutenant could stand up and light the area.
“Keela?” he shouted, knowing the silence was too acute for anyone to still be in the cave.
He waited for the lieutenant by the opening, dreading what he’d see.
“Nobody in here,” the lieutenant said as he flashed his torch. “Where would they go now?”
Jasper stepped into the Nave, relief flooding through him. There was a single small shoe on the rocky floor, abandoned, along with a few bits of trash. Keela and the rest were not in the cave. But he hadn’t met them on the way up from the village, so they must have left and gone deeper into the hills—or they were being held by the Tenners.
Or, the chimney! he realized.
“Can I borrow your torch?” he asked the lieutenant.
He rushed back into the Cathedral, then over to a small crevice leading away from the main chamber. It rose on tumbled rocks. Long before man settled the planet, rain had eaten its way through the soil and rock from above, finally collapsing a tube of sorts from the surface to the cavern floor. It was a rather restricted space, but children could clamber up the chimney and out into the open air 15 meters above. Jasper leaned his head in and flashed the light. He didn’t need to be a Ranger to see that somebody, or rather a large number of somebodies, had made the shallow climb. A child’s sippy cup was right at his eye level, and several pieces of clothing littered the route.
Somehow, Keela and Carrie had evidently managed to get more than 70 children and adults up and out the cave via the chimney, which fed into a tiny canyon that led to another trail going northeast instead of the main trail’s northwest. But he knew not everyone could have made the climb. The kids, yes. But Barta Jones was older than Jasper by 20 years and massed at least 150 kilos. There wasn’t any possibility that she’d climbed out this way, and he could think of another five or six who probably couldn’t as well. He even doubted his Keela could, but she might have been able to, given the alternative.
Jasper was tempted to climb after them, but he wasn’t the smallest man in the world, and the lieutenant with him was even bigger. He doubted that they could squeeze through. He turned back, handing the lieutenant his light.
“They’re gone. Up the Red Rock Trail,” he said.
He didn’t mention the handful of women who could not have gone that way. He didn’t know where they could have gone, and it didn’t make sense to speculate.
“So, what now?” the lieutenant asked.
“I need to follow them.”
“And what about me? What should I do?”
Jasper looked at the man for a few moments. He needed to marry up with his forces, and they were somewhere to the north on the Van der Horst Plateau. It looked like women and children were heading north as well, so for the time being, their paths coincided.
“Come with me, sir. We’re going the same way for now, and I’ll get you on your way.”
“Can we go the same way as the others? I couldn’t see much, but it looked pretty small.”
“No. We’ve got to go back down almost to the village, then hit the trailhead for Red Rock. It’ll be a pretty tough go, but it connects in about 25 kilometers to Highway 44 in the valley. From there, you can go all the way through the passes to the plateau.”
Jasper had never made the trek before, but he didn’t think he needed to mention that.
“OK, sounds good. Let’s get going.”
Jasper had hoped to find the villagers safe and sound hiding out in Pirate’s Cave. They had abandoned it, but with mercs making their way inside as well, Jasper could accept that. Now he just had to find them.
He sidestepped past the Sentinel Rock at the entrance to the cave, turning to tell the lieutenant to watch his step when a voice called out, “Freeze right there! We’ve got you covered.”
Chapter 8
JJ
Marines tried to avoid trails as SOP,[5] but the hills were rugged above the village, and the small road made for much easier movement. This deep in ba
d-guy territory, JJ wasn’t comfortable on what had to be the major route through the hills, and his nerves were on high alert as he led the way up the mountain.
He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard someone stumbling out from what looked to be the cliff wall.
He swung his M90 to cover the old man—an old man armed with some sort of ancient rifle—and shouted, “Freeze right there! We’ve got you covered.”
“We” might seem to be a generous term for only two Marines, but the old man didn’t look to be much of a threat.
“You, the second man, get out here, too,” Sergeant Go shouted. “Don’t make me come in there and get you.”
JJ hadn’t seen anyone else. He’d barely seen the first guy seemingly come out of nowhere.
“Just lower your weapon, slowly,” he told the man. “Then step out here.”
The man didn’t hesitate. He bent to place his rifle on the ground, then straightened, up, stepping over it to the roadbed.
“You boys Federation?” he asked JJ.
“I said, come on out,” the sergeant said, his voice going up a few notches. “Let me see your hands.”
JJ was torn between holding a bead on the old man and sliding over to be able to see to whom Sergeant Go was speaking.
“Yeah, Federation Marines. Get on your face and don’t move,” he ordered.
“Aye-yah. No need to get excited,” the man said as he sunk to his knees. “But that’s one of your boys still in there.”
“A Marine? Who?”
“Not a Marine. A sailor. A pilot.”
“A Federation pilot?” JJ asked, totally taken by surprise.
“Aye-yah.”
“Sergeant Go, this guy says there’s a Federation pilot back in there,” JJ said to the sergeant who was moving forward, M90 trained forward.
“You in there. I’m Sergeant Gary Go, United Federation Marines. Who the hell are you?”
“Marines? Federation Marines?” a voice called out from seemingly inside the rock face of the hill.
“Yeah. Who are you?”
JJ moved to his right, and he could see that there was a space between a large rock outcropping and the hill itself, and back along the face, there was an opening.
“Lieutenant Castor Klocek, United Federation Navy.”
“OK, Lieutenant. Let’s just make sure of that. I want you to come out of that hole you’re in, hands first,” the sergeant ordered, the muzzle of his M90 steady as a statue’s.
“OK, I’m coming out. Just everyone calm down.”
Two hands poked out of the opening, followed by the unmistakable sight of a Navy flight suit. JJ started to relax. He guessed a flight suit wouldn’t be too hard to fake, but that still seemed to be a lot of effort just for some sort of trap.
He still kept his M90 ready to rock and roll, though.
“OK, sir. If you can just come out here,” Sergeant Go said.
He may have added the “sir,” but JJ caught that he hadn’t lowered his weapon, either.
The lieutenant stumbled, but within a moment, he was standing in front of Sergeant Go, looking a little uncertain.
“Can I get up now?” the first man said from where he was lying face down on the road bed.
“Uh, sure,” JJ said. “And who are you?”
“Jasper van Ruiker—I guess I’m still a private in the Donkerbroek Militia, not that that means anything now. The Tenner mercs took care of that.”
“Donkerbroek? That town at the bottom of this hill?” Sergeant Go asked.
“Aye-yah. That’s my home.”
“Oh, man. Sorry about that,” JJ said.
None of what was being said had been confirmed, but JJ let the muzzle of his rifle fall.
“What’s your story, sir?” the sergeant asked.
“Nothing much to say. I’m a Lizard jockey, and I got shot down giving support to Jasper here, he and the rest of his unit. We’re heading north now. I’ve got to get back to my squadron at Philips Landing.
“What about you two? You’re a long way from any other Marines.”
Sergeant Go seemed to be debating on what to say, but evidently, he made up his mind; he raised the muzzle of his M90 and said, “Had a mission not too far from here. We lost the recon team with us, and now we’re heading back ourselves.”
“Good,” the lieutenant said. “You can come with us. We’d all be a little more secure with four instead of two.”
“I . . . we’re moving fast, sir. The situation is fluid, and the sooner we hook up with our platoon, the better.”
“And you think you know the area, Sergeant? Better than Jasper there?
“Jasper,” he said, turning to the old man. “Is this the best way north?”
“No, it isn’t. The mercs have gone up there,” Jasper said, pointing up the road. “Which is why we’d decided to take Red Rock Trail.”
“Red Rock Trail?” Sergeant Go asked.
“Much smaller, Sergeant. Much less chance of running into mercs that way.”
“So, unless you’ve got other orders, I’m taking command here, and the four of us are going to form our own unit to get back.”
JJ thought the sergeant was about to argue, but he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Aye-aye, sir. So, what now?”
“Now we head back down the hill, cross over to Red Rock Trail, and then head north.”
The lieutenant retrieved his weapon, the twin to Jasper’s old rifle. He slung it over his shoulder, then without a word, started back down the slope. Sergeant Go tilted his head at JJ, who took the unspoken order and hurried in front of the Navy officer, taking point.
JJ wasn’t sure why the two men had come up the hill in the first place if this was such a bad route, but he had to agree that the four of them might have a better chance than just the two Marines, especially as the local knew the lay of the land.
Still, an old, untrained militia private and a Navy pilot didn’t seem to add much to their combat power.
Chapter 9
Mountie
Jasper moved to the side of the trail, looking at something on the ground before quickly looking up and trudging on. Mountie was the third man in their little column, and as he walked by, he saw the empty water pouch, crumbled up and discarded. He’d never heard of Crystal Glacier, but it had to be a civilian brand, and it was almost certainly dropped by one of the older man’s friends. This was real life, not some Hollybolly flick, so Mountie didn’t have the ability to somehow glean information that would pinpoint how long it had lain there, but at least they knew they were on the trail of the villagers.
“They” meant the two of them. The two Marines weren’t in the loop. Mountie wasn’t sure why he hadn’t told them.
He’d about shit his flight suit when he’d heard the sergeant call out that he’d had them covered, and he’d almost run back into the depths of the cave. But Jasper had become his wingman, and you didn’t abandon them. He’d been extremely relieved that it had been two Marines who had the drop on them, not Tenner mercs, and he’d intuitively known that four of them had better odds of finding friendly lines than two of them—at least as far as his situation was concerned. He wasn’t sure how far Jasper would take him—probably only as far as it took to find his wife and grandkids. SERE training or not, he was not confident that he could survive alone in the middle of Tenner-controlled territory. The two Marines gave him an immediate boost.
But the advantage wasn’t just one-way. He was still an officer in the Navy, and he could be an asset to the two Marines as well. So, he’d seized the moment to take command. Sergeant Go had been resistant, he could tell, but military discipline had kicked in, and he’d accepted Mountie’s position.
It came down to discipline, which was somewhat ironic in that, of all the Navy, the small craft pilots and maintenance crews had a reputation for being the most lax in that regard. Crews called the pilots by their call-signs, and military courtesy could sometimes be lacking. The Marines, on the other hand, were sticklers for di
scipline, and Mountie had counted on that.
Not only had he taken command to keep the four of them together, but he’d changed their route to Red Rock Trail. It had probably been a good tactical decision, but that wasn’t why he’d done it. He’d discovered long ago that if he did have to give an order, it was better to give one that his subordinates wanted to follow than one that they didn’t. And if he’d let the Marines keep leading them up the main mountain road, he was sure Jasper wouldn’t have accompanied them. They needed Jasper’s knowledge of the area, and he changed the route to make sure the older man stayed with them for as long as possible.
He turned to look back at the sergeant, who was bringing up the rear. The two Marines were engineers, not infantry, but they both looked like killers. Mountie knew that all Marines served their first tour in the infantry, though, before some received training in other areas, and Sergeant Go could have been out of open casting for the part of the grizzled combat vet. Most of that was in the man’s eyes, which seemed to take in everything, evaluated what he saw, and found it wanting—including, Mountie feared, one downed Navy pilot.
The sergeant was respectful, and he didn’t seem to resent a Navy lieutenant assuming command of their little group, but Mountie reminded himself not to issue an order the sergeant might not want to obey. He didn’t want to put either of them into that position.
Chapter 10
JJ
JJ pulled down on his breastplate yet again. It kept on riding up, pushing his gorget up into his throat. The polydeflexion plates weren’t particularly heavy—his entire issue came in at less than four kg—and it was somewhat flexible against the face, but lengthwise, it was stiff, and could be extremely uncomfortable as it dug in along the edges. His body armor had been custom made for him, just as all Marines’ armor was, but other than training humps—and those were without full armor—he’d never walked this far. As a grunt, his battalion had never deployed, and as an engineer—well, “why walk when you can ride” was more than just a saying: it was a way of life. Once they were back on Compton Reef, he’d have to see about getting his armor refitted.
Behind Enemy Lines: A United Federation Marine Corps Novel Page 6