Venusian Uprising

by M. D. Cooper

  What he was about to say next was an outright fabrication, but his research into their marriage had Urdon suspecting that Peter didn’t really know his ex-wife very well at all. He also suspected that the man was susceptible to revisionist history where Tanis was concerned. Especially given her association with the demise of his career at IntelliCore.

  He was banking on that being the case, for he was about to launch one whopper of a lie.

  He crossed his arms, leaning back against the clear plas of the office window, its curtains casting his face into deeper shadow.

  “I’m sure you’ve wondered how a woman like Tanis could have railroaded a company of battle-hardened Marines into committing an atrocity like that. What happened at Toro stands as one of the most gruesome acts of violence against humanity in recent history.”

  Peter’s eyes narrowed, and his frame, which had been telegraphing an as-yet-restrained anger, shifted subtly in an almost visceral rejection of the mental picture of carnage he had just painted.

  Urdon nodded slowly, pleased with what he saw.

  That’s it. Take the bait….

  Peter visibly gathered himself, as if he had just noticed his unconscious reaction. After a moment, he cocked his head. “You’re suggesting she lost control over the Marines under her command.” The statement was bald, the emotion behind it indecipherable.

  Urdon waited.

  “She did have a temper.” Peter’s voice grew thoughtful. “When I told her I’d filed to sever our marriage, she became unstable, started shrieking at me like a shrew.”

  “So arguably, you could say that the people responsible for planting that label on your ex-wife, and damaging your career prospects, are still out there.”

  Urdon let the silence build between them for a moment before continuing.

  “What would you say if I told you that I had a way to strike back at them that would be utterly untraceable to you?”

  Peter straightened, leveling his gaze at Urdon’s silhouetted figure, his expression one of cool calculation. It was as if the man had donned a mantle that transformed him from frightened prey to invincible corporate magnate.

  “Go on.”

  Ahhhh. Urdon exhaled a silent breath, pleased with Peter’s response. That’s it, Terran. Keep nibbling at that lure. Now to set that hook….

  “You are aware that IntelliCore was working on a new iteration of NSAI hypernode when you left.”

  Peter nodded, his expression now showing slight perplexity. “An Anti deSitter core, yes. But I—”

  “They were successful. One of the scientists there is a…friend…of mine. He’s a bit concerned that the people he’s working with are going down a similar path as the one that led to the pico disaster.”

  He smiled when Peter started at the news.

  “Oh, yes. I’m aware of IntelliCore’s silent partners. I also know they hired you because your business acumen came with an impeccable reputation.”

  Urdon paused, watching for the subtle cues indicating his faint praise had worked as intended.

  “What does this have to do with a platoon of Marines going off the rails at Toro?” There was a skeptical tone in Peter’s voice, his brow raised.

  Urdon almost laughed. Apparently, the man had decided he was no longer a threat, now that he knew Urdon wanted something from him.

  Urdon was fine with that, so long as it got him what he needed.

  “I need to get my friend out, and he wants their research exposed for the danger he feels it poses.” Urdon shrugged, the action designed to telegraph nonchalance to the seated man. “If it happens to be found in the hands of a Marine platoon gone rogue…. What’s the old Earth saying? We ‘kill two birds with one stone’?”

  Peter’s expression turned scornful. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I no longer work for them.”

  “Ah, but your ident was never scrubbed from root security, my friend has informed me. All you need to do is give me the override codes, and we can take it from there.”

  Peter leant forward, his stare intent, as if willing himself to peer past the darkness to the stranger in his office.

  “How do you know this isn’t just a power play by a competitor wanting to steal IntelliCore’s IP?”

  Urdon snorted aloud. “After they dumped you like they did, what do you care?” He shook his head slowly, his shadowed figure expressing his disdain. “Do I sound like some corporate spook, trying to do a number on a competitor?”

  Peter’s expression turned to disgust. “Hard-ass, bleeding heart activist, then.” He shook his head.

  “Again. What the hell do you care, if it gives both you and me the chance for a little revenge?”

  Peter pressed his lips into a straight, hard line. “I can’t have this traced back to me. It’s too great a risk.”

  “Understood. But what if I could guarantee you complete anonymity?”

  The executive stared into the black, unblinking, his face impassive. Five seconds passed. Ten.

  Slowly, he nodded.

  “I’m in.”

  PLAINS OF TARJA

  STELLAR DATE: 3227472 / 06.02.4124 (Adjusted Gregorian)

  LOCATION: Plains of Tarja, Teka Continent

  REGION: Venus, InnerSol, Sol Space Federation

  The city of Tarja sat on a high steppe that shared the same name. To the west, the plains gently sloped down to the Prelandra Sea, and to the east, the steppe fell away through a series of hills and long valleys before leveling out again in the Jurgen River valley.

  Fourth platoon was situated at the edge of the hill country. The enemy they had stumbled upon lay between them and the city—the lights of which were visible along the horizon, illuminating the clouds with their ethereal glow.

  “Well, that’s a right mess you’ve stumbled into,” Williams said as he surveyed the enemy camp.

  “Hey, Gunny, you gave us the route to take. We’re just following orders.”

  “Huh,” Williams grunted. “Well, I got it from Bruno, and he got it from the fleet monkeys up there in space—where they can’t seem to spot a few thousand soldiers moving across the face of the freaking planet.”

  “They have a pretty good stealth shield,” Lieutenant Grenwald admitted. “We would have walked right into that damn camp if Perez hadn’t stumbled on one of their pickets.”

  Williams snorted. “Glad to see Perez is managing to make hauling his sorry skin around the Sol System worthwhile. So, how come we have eyes on it from here?”

  “Their stealth tech is set up to keep the fleet boys and girls from spotting them. I guess they figure their sentries will spot anyone getting close on ground,” Lieutenant Grenwald replied.

  “Still sloppy, if you ask me,” Williams said. “They should know we have fucking comms. We can let the vacuum jocks in on where their little party is, and they wouldn’t have time to ask where the can is before we hit ’em.”

  “We’re away from civilians. Is an orbital strike an option?” Green asked. “That sure would clean things up nicely.”

  Williams shook his head. “Commander Lauren got the word from Colonel Ender. We’re to take them out quietly.”

  Grenwald snorted. “Seriously? How are we going to take them out quietly? No matter what we do, someone’s going to spot a fight of this size—not to mention, between our ‘toon and First, there are only seventy of us. There are at least fifteen hundred enemy soldiers down there.”

  “Bruno is hacking into their comm network,” Williams replied. “First platoon has seeded interception pegs so that we’ll be the ones on the line when they call for help. If we play this right, we can take these bastards out, and no one will be the wiser—not for a few hours, at least.”

  “How did they get so organized, anyway?” Green asked while looking out over the camp. “I mean…other than their half-assed stealth setup, they look professional out there. Not like some ragtag bunch of separatists.”

  Williams nodded. “The guys we hit were all Diskers, not Venusians. I
bet these are the same.”

  “Diskers!” Green shook his head. “Things are really turning to shit, Gunny. How the fuck are Disker separatists sneaking armies onto Venus?”

  “Probably on ships, Staff Sergeant,” Lieutenant Grenwald quipped. “What’s the plan after we get comms locked down, Gunny?”

  Williams looked between the two men. “That’s when we get to play bait.”

  * * * * *

  Williams gazed up at the lights above Venus, picking out which were stars and which were ships and orbital habitats. The glare from humanity’s creation greatly outnumbered the natural lights, but they still had a beauty of their own.

  That was one thing Venus offered: plenty of time to stare at the stars. It only rotated once every two hundred and twenty-four Earth days, spinning retrograde no less. It always felt unnatural to watch the stars rise in the west, but he supposed that it was perfectly natural on Venus.

  The planet’s terraformers had dealt with the long night—which still tended to grow rather cold—by positioning two small fusion burners around the world. They approximated an Earth-length day-night cycle on the dark side, though the burners only cast a fraction of Sol’s light. The sunward side of the planet, however, had no respite during its long day.

  He double-checked the positions of the two fusion suns, confirming once more that the one named Gertrude would rise over the western horizon in twenty minutes—right when the Diskers would cross over the rise at the western edge of the plains, chasing after Jansen and one/one.

  If the impossibility of catching sacktime with Vonda was his biggest regret when it came to his promotion to gunnery sergeant, being further from Jansen’s expertise was his second.

  The corporal was the most competent Marine in the entire platoon, more than some of the squad leaders. Her tactical awareness and calm, yet serious manner was a boon in any situation. He always counted on her to get shit done right, and quickly. He hoped she would take his suggestion, and apply for OCS. The Marines needed more officers like her—real soldiers who could be real leaders.

  A pre-dawn glow began to creep over the western horizon, and he cycled his vision, looking for Jansen and one/one. Any minute now, they should be coming into view before working their way down the center of the valley.

  From his position high on the valley’s south ridge, he looked down its length once more. It ran at a seventy-degree angle to the edge of the steppe to the west. The end close to the high plain had only sparse cover, mostly rocks and low scrub. However, as the valley sloped away from the plains, and the cut it made into the surface of Venus grew deeper, the foliage thickened. A kilometer further in, tall trees and thick scrub filled the lower reaches of the valley, and scattered copses of trees provided cover along the high slopes.

  The Marines of Bravo Company’s Fourth Platoon would hit the enemy before they reached the thicker cover, which was occupied by the two heavy-weapons fireteams. It was a textbook ambush that would create a perfect killbox for the Diskers.

  Provided they took the bait.

  Sergeant Kowalski, squad one’s leader, tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the south. Williams swept his gaze across the landscape, and saw the Marines of one/one creep over the ridge at the edge of the steppe and begin to work their way down the slope—into the wrong valley.

  “What the fuck is she doing?” Lieutenant Grenwald asked.

  “Not sure,” Williams replied. “But it’s Jansen—if she didn’t make this approach, then she had a damn good reason.”

  “Green, reposition the platoon,” Lieutenant Grenwald said, his voice carrying the worry that Williams felt. “We need to get into that valley yesterday, or this is going to be the sorriest ambush ever.”

  Staff Sergeant Green didn’t reply, but conveyed the orders with hand signals to the nearby elements of the platoon and sent runners to signal the squads on the northern slope.

  “This is going to be tight.” Williams shook his head.

  “We’ll make it work,” Grenwald said. “Best estimate for our boys and girls to reposition?”

  “Twelve minutes,” Staff Sergeant Green replied in an instant, though his eyes flicked to Williams to see if the senior noncom agreed.

  Williams gave a nod and crept over the ridge with Green to meet Jansen’s fireteam, while the lieutenant followed one/two to a position halfway down the valley’s length. The two sergeants crept through the low brush on the northern side of the new valley until they reached Jansen herself.

  “Corporal Jansen, what the hell is going on?” Williams growled. “You do know this is the wrong valley, right?”

  Jansen nodded. “I’d noticed that, Gunny. I figured you wanted us to make it here alive, though. The Veefs…or Diskers, whatever...had a patrol approaching from the north, right along the edge of the steppe. We would have run right into it. As it is, they’ll probably join the company that’s tailing us.”

  “How many?” Green asked.

  “We didn’t get a good look, but our visual tally came to twenty-two. Probably a whole platoon,” Jansen replied.

  “So, what…two hundred and fifty? Shit, Jansen, I thought we asked you to pull in a few of them, not half their battalion.” Williams shook his head again.

  “Sorry, Gunny. Should I go back and tell them that they’re not all invited?” Corporal Jansen asked.

  Williams chuckled softly. That was one of the reasons he liked Jansen—she gave as good as she got.

  “We open with the heavy slug throwers, then,” Green said, and Williams nodded. Green crept back through the underbrush to confirm the decision with Lieutenant Grenwald before passing the order.

  “What did their armor look like?” he asked Jansen.

  “Like you saw at that farmhouse, Sta—Gunny,” Jansen said, catching herself before she used his old rank. “Medium-grade. Powered, but not fully like ours. It didn’t look like what the Scattered Worlds Alliance uses, though. I think they just got the soldiers in, not all their gear.”

  “Makes sense,” Williams replied. “It’s a bit easier to move people than full battle gear.”

  “What’s the plan, then?” Jansen asked.

  “Same as before. Get down to the end of the valley. Lead them to the heavies, but don’t go straight down the center. Try to make it look like you’re being stealthy.”

  “Forget who you’re talking to, Gunny?” Jansen asked with a wink as she signaled to her fireteam and moved out.

  He took a more circuitous route along the valley’s south slope, working his way to the back of the Marine formation where Chang would be set up, and where Jansen and her fireteam would stop, leaking small amounts of EM for the enemy scouts to pick up.

  As he moved, he considered her assessment of the enemy. Based on the intel MICI had gathered, most of the Venusian separatists weren’t military, and fewer were former Marines. If the Veefs wanted to make a real stand, they needed a real military force. No mercenary army would take on a job that pitted them against the Terran Space Force and its Force Recon Orbital Drop Marines, but he could see the Diskers getting involved. They had been itching to get out of the Sol Space Federation since that dust-up at Makemake, the capital world of the Scattered Worlds Alliance, ten years ago.

  One of the Terran Space Force’s largest carriers, the TSS Normandy, had run dark, coming in stellar north over Makemake before lighting its engines for a full burn right over the planet.

  He’d seen a carrier do a full braking burn; even in InnerSol, it would outshine Sol. The carrier must have directed its engine wash away from the planet, otherwise it would have burned the world to a cinder. The populace of Makemake, and no small part of its military, put up a blocAaron around the planet, and the carrier was forced to hold back.

  In the end, the TSF won, the Normandy survived, and things appeared to settle down in the Scattered Disk. Optimists liked to believe that the TSS Normandy’s actions at Makemake had quelled any sedition, but Williams didn’t believe it. If there were enough people in th
e Scattered Disk to pull off that attack on short notice, they wouldn’t just disappear after one battle. Their dissent ran deep.

  Movement at the top of the ridge drew his attention back to the present, and Williams watched the first of the enemy troops slip into the long valley. If these were also Diskers assisting the Veefs, then their separatists hadn’t disappeared at all—just changed tactics.

  This was the most critical time in the ambush. The enemy scouts would know the valley presented a risk, but one they would have to take if they were to follow Jansen’s fireteam. There could be no other EM, no motion from the Marines that the enemy could detect. They had to believe it was just the one fireteam in the valley.

  Minute by minute, Williams watched the Disker troops work their way down the vale. Their scouts ranged up the slopes, but not far enough to find the TSF Marines lying in wait.

  He counted the enemy as they crossed over the ridge; they were coming slowly, and there weren’t enough of them to add up to the numbers Jansen had reported. He moved through the underbrush to the corporal’s position to see that she also wore a worried expression.

  “Shit, they’re flanking us,” he whispered to her. “Get up over the south ridge and get ready—we’ll hit them first. It’ll be too soon, but better than being caught in the hammer and tongs.”

  Jansen nodded and led her fireteam south, while Williams crept through the underbrush, where he encountered Chang’s squad.

  “Break that shit down and get it up on the north ridge. We’re being flanked from both sides. You’re going to have to take out anyone coming over from the north. When the shit starts, you shred anything that moves.”

  “Aye, Gunny,” Chang replied, and his crew broke down their weapon with smooth, silent precision before slipping into the brush and up the north slope.

  Williams worked his way west and up the south slope to where Lieutenant Grenwald and Staff Sergeant Green waited.

  “Saw what you did there,” Lieutenant Grenwald said with a nod. “Thanks. We’ll hit them hard as soon as they make it to the half-klick mark—hopefully before they come over the north and south ridges.”