Steel Breach

by Casey Calouette

  "Get me Colonel Paksh! This is Captain Wyse!" he yelled into the handset.

  "The Colonel is disposed, I can pass—"

  "He needs to know this, now! It's about the stargate."

  There was silence on the other end. A hissing and crackling zoomed in and out. Captain Wyse prayed that the same thing that was jamming the long distance comms wouldn't affect the short range. They hadn't been able to reach any of the other Lishun Delta bases. Lately it seemed the interference was getting worse.

  "What?" a voice said.

  "Colonel, this is Captain Wyse, the gate is operational, we can get a single data packet out. But the gate will be destroyed if we do." Captain Wyse shifted and squeezed the commset. The rumble of friendly artillery reassured him that there was still some fight left.

  "Operational?" Colonel Paksh's said. "Do it! Tell them we can't hold unless we get more. We need more!"

  "More what, Colonel?"

  "Everything. Give them as much data as you can. Go!"

  Captain Wyse sprinted back into the makeshift stargate control room. The Engineers still huddled over the screen. They stood in a cloud of cigarette smoke and frosted breath.

  "Get it ready!" Captain Wyse said. He pushed himself through the men and knelt before the console.

  Zedun and the other Engineers creaked into action.

  Captain Wyse pulled his hands out of his gloves and set his fingers onto the icy keyboard. God it's cold, he thought, and typed as quick as he could.

  Mackinof Command is destroyed. Line is holding, need reinforcements. Orbital bombardment, has not struck since 12 hours ago, repeat, orbital bombardment. 80% casualties. 3 functional umbrellas. Stocks running low. Send ammo, troops, and equipment.

  He paused and felt the chill work into his joints. What else? He tapped a quick key and dumped the latest drone feed. They had a few drones circling but the data was spotty, he hoped that VASCOM could sort it out. Finally he hit complete, watched it encrypt, and hit ready.

  "Zedun, status?" Captain Wyse asked as he pulled his gloves back on. He slammed his hands on his legs to get the blood flowing.

  Zedun leaned away from a half smoked electrical cabinet. A single screen wore a spiderweb of cracks, but under it the information still flowed. "Ten seconds, on your call, Captain."

  Captain Wyse shivered. The gate was the only way off the planet but there was no way they could ever hope to dig it out. If Mackinof fell, the Kadan would have a straight line right into the flank of LISCOM.

  The electrical cabinets hum and shook. They creaked and the room grew just a touch warmer. Condensation iced up on the edges and the carbon wrapped cables relaxed.

  Down in the depths, a hundred meters beneath the deepest chambers, the reactor hummed its timeless hum. It had a permanent stargate a few millimeters in diameter with a direct link to the weak star in the Lishun system. The star heated the coils and powered the reactor with molten lithium. It was a simple reactor, a reliable thing of Engineering beauty.

  "Ready, Captain," Zedun said. He held his gloved hand over the emergency power switch. It would be a full electrical surge.

  "Go," Captain Wyse said.

  "Halt!" a new man shouted at the entrance to the Engineering room.

  Captain Wyse spun around. He clenched his gloved fists. "Who the hell!"

  A Major stood with a stubby nosed submachine gun clenched to his chest. The man was wounded, dried blood sat on his cheek like a patch of mud. His face was drawn tight and his eyes looked around wildly. A red ribbon hung on his neck, the Major was also a noble. "Do not activate that gate! It's our only way out!"

  Zedun lowered his hand from the activation switch. The barrel of the Major's weapon pointed vaguely in his direction.

  "Major, I have my orders." Captain Wyse stood. He let his hands hang at his side. His service pistol was tucked into a leather holster.

  The other technicians stepped away from Zedun. Then two more nobles stepped in alongside the Major. One was a Sergeant, the other a Lieutenant. More men flooded in behind them but the Major kept them at bay.

  "How deep? We can dig it out, it's out only way out of here," the Major said through chattering teeth.

  "Zedun, engage the stargate." Captain Wyse said. His heart slammed in his chest. But he had to get the gate open.

  "Do not!" the Major shouted. He brandished his weapon toward Zedun. The frost rimed muzzle pointed directly at the Engineer.

  Zedun held his hand just away from the switch. His face was white and his eyes locked on the muzzle of the weapon.

  More soldiers surged in past the Major and tackled some of the technicians. The Major was pushed from behind and stumbled ahead.

  Captain Wyse slapped open his holster and pulled out a fully automatic KR7 machine pistol. He leveled his arm at the Major and looked down the length of the coal black slide. "Zedun. Engage the stargate."

  Then the mob surged in. Men and women, wounded, sick, and healthy, tore into the room. They pushed aside the Major, the Lieutenant and the Sergeant and set in on the technicians. Zedun darted away from the console and raced out the back.

  Captain Wyse stepped back with the pistol in front of him. "I'll shoot! Halt, dammit!"

  The crowd still pushed inside the room. Soldiers raised rifles and shouted at Captain Wyse. They were wild with fear, but beyond that the weight of desertion was on them.

  Someone fired and the room erupted with gunfire. On the far side a pair of the technicians fired from the cover of the door and kept the rioting soldiers at bay. Men and women fell, the Major toppled forward with a bullet hole in his throat. The Sergeant screamed and tried to push himself back into the crowd. But mostly they surged in without any regard to the incoming fire.

  Captain Wyse dove behind a panel. A round creased across his legs and he screamed out. The pain burned. He crawled toward the electrical cabinet. Rounds ricocheted around him, pieces of cabinets dropped onto the floor, and then finally he was there. He'd have to stand to reach the power switch.

  There was an explosion in the hallway and the mob went wild. More gunfire erupted and soldiers surged into the room. The riot was being subdued the only way it could be. Friendly soldiers fought through the halls.

  "Cover me!" Captain Wyse shouted to the technicians.

  One of the technicians fell to the floor and sat with his head on his chest. Blood poured out from the top of his head. The other rammed in a fresh magazine and fired on the crowd.

  Captain Wyse stood and felt his legs burn. Then his hand was on the switch and he squeezed tight. It resisted his pull and he tugged.

  A single round punched through his back and tumbled through a lung. It ricocheted off a rib and exited just next to his sternum. He caught his breath in his throat and dropped to the ground with his hand still pulling on the switch.

  Deep underground the stargate flared into stone and rock. Concrete vaporized in an instant and for a brief moment the intensity of a star cleared the way. The data packet flowed through the few cables remaining and, for the briefest second, there was a connection to Vasilov Prime.

  After twenty eight milliseconds, the stargate exploded. Forty milliseconds after that, the core of the reactor imploded.

  The data console blinked a message: Packet Acknowledged. Then the power went out completely. The chill settled in.

  #

  Chapter Twelve

  Vasilov Prime - County of Essen, Unassigned Land Rights

  Colonel Clarke jumped down from the cargo car before the train even stopped. He stepped quick down the low embankment. The Sigg cadre along with the rest of his Officers followed suit. The sun was just a smudge on the horizon, a dirty orange thing half-hidden in the fog.

  The Sigg spread out into a fan and walked a half dozen meters apart from each other. The Vasilov, in sharp contrast, fell into ranks and marched.

  Colonel Clarke almost told them to do as the Sigg, but he knew his Officers would have to see and learn. "Major?"

  "Sir!" Major Bresov sa
id and ran up next to Colonel Clarke.

  "Is the XO going to be waiting?"

  "Sir, well, the last he said is he'd come in with the detail."

  Colonel Clarke nodded. "He's a bit of a cowboy, eh, Major?"

  Major Bresov looked around her and nodded with a slight smile. "He was, but don't call him that."

  "So he really was a cowboy?"

  The train cars finally screeched to a stop. The large penal battalion warehouse sat in the distance. A line of prisoners marched away from it, headed straight toward the rail cars.

  Colonel Clarke walked to the center of the gravel platform. The Sigg fanned out and squatted near the edges of cargo containers, empty dunnage, and the remains of an old station.

  A drizzle of rain plinked out of the sky and landed squarely on the Vasilov Officers, none of which seemed to pay the rain any attention.

  "Are you from Prime, Major?" Colonel Clarke asked.

  "No sir, from Wislaus Delta."

  "It's nice, yes? I heard the fishing is amazing. Salmon, right?"

  Major Bresov gave the Colonel a half-smile. "Yes, sir, salmon. You fish?"

  Colonel Clarke snorted. "Some day I'm going to retire with a fishing pole in my hands. Lots of salmon on Wislaus."

  Major Bresov just nodded back and watched the Colonel for a moment.

  The group of soldiers marched into the loading area. They wore a simple uniform with no raingear. The slight mist soaked them. At the side walked three non-commissioned Officers. One Sergeant and two Corporals. They wore standard issue raingear and carried stubby nosed riot shotguns. They walked up warily and eyed the assembled Officers.

  "Detail halt!" the Sergeant barked. The row of prisoners snapped to a stop and stood rigid. The Sergeant stepped up to Colonel Clarke and saluted. He wore the regimental crest of the 11th, Baron-Colonel Devos's unit.

  Colonel Clarke returned the salute. "Sergeant, have your detail start unloading. Who is your CO?"

  "Captain Kleminski, sir, shall I send for a car?"

  Colonel Clarke shook his head. "No, Sergeant, that's not necessary." He stepped past the Sergeant and walked down the line of prisoners. He looked them over carefully and noted the lack of rain gear, how thin they all were, and how more than one wore a hefty set of bruises. He didn't mind some physical reinforcement, they were prisoners after all, but at a certain point it was counterproductive. Then he saw his XO, Commander Ahmed Arap.

  Commander Arap wore the largest of the bruises. One eye was almost completely swollen shut. His lower lip was busted open and a thin line of blood mixed with the falling mist. He was a man built like a piece of rawhide: tight, narrow, focused.

  Colonel Clarke picked him by reputation alone. Commander Arap told it like it was, regardless of who he spoke with. His personnel file noted him as "not promotable" and "reckless". Colonel Clarke thought the man was a perfect fit for a new kind of unit.

  "Commander Arap, step out of ranks, please."

  The Sergeant's eyes grew wide.

  Commander Ahmed Arap stomped out of the line of prisoners and shook the rain off of his arms. He snapped a salute at Colonel Clarke, marched directly past and gave a sharp undercut to one of the Corporals.

  The Corporal fell back into the wet gravel and his shotgun went flying. The Commander leaned down, gripped the Corporal by the collar of his raincoat, and lifted him up until his feet dangled in the air. "You dirty son of a bitch, I've never seen a more disgraceful example of an NCO."

  The Sergeant and the other Corporal stepped back and eyed the Commander. They looked between the raging Commander and Colonel Clarke.

  "Commander, walk with me, please. The Corporal isn't one of ours." Colonel Clarke walked away from the column and turned to the Sergeant. "As you were, Sergeant."

  Commander Arap glared at the Corporal one last time and tossed the man to the ground. He stomped away and fell in beside Colonel Clarke. "Damned fine mess this is, Colonel. It's not a Penal Battalion, it's a goddamn prison. Nothing but bullshit, bumfucking, and bastards." He spat loudly to the side. "When we on our own, sir?"

  "Soon, Commander, soon." Colonel Clarke stopped next to Umi.

  Umi stood and shook Commander Arap's hand. "Cap—Umi Matsuo, I'm an, uh, consultant."

  "Consultant, eh? You Sigg? I'm Arap." Commander Arap said.

  Umi smiled a crooked smile. "Sigg, yes."

  "How's them Boben?"

  "Dead."

  Commander Arap grinned and showed a couple of missing teeth.

  "Commander, brief me." Colonel Clarke turned and watched the prisoners unload the train cars. No, he thought, not prisoners, they're my soldiers. They moved slow, ponderous, like prisoners, not soldiers.

  "We've got drunks, addicts, thieves, peddlers, civilians, a few up on manslaughter and a handful of murderers. Hmm, let's see, deserters, malingerers, some odd-ball crimes, and a group of objectors. Even a pack of all-out anarchists."

  "Objectors and anarchists, Colonel?" Umi asked. "How the hell does your military end up with conscientious objectors and anarchists in the ranks?"

  "Conscripted, mostly. They're judged and sentenced if they cause mischief. Not much choice," Colonel Clarke said. At one time he thought conscription was the only way to go, but after seeing the Sigg he wasn't so sure.

  Umi crossed his arms on his chest and glanced back at the rest of his group. "Helluva way to run an army."

  "Yes, Umi, and it's what we got," Colonel Clarke said.

  Neither Commander Arap or Umi looked pleased.

  #

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vasilov Prime - Stargate Staging

  A Lieutenant walked on the bare grounds and stared up at the stargate. He stood, as other Lieutenants would stand after him, and watched for something to happen. The wind cut across the open space and whipped the puddles into a frothy mess. He stepped around them and paced toward the far edge of the grounds.

  The only thing that made him happy was that he wasn't on Lishun Delta.

  There was a sound, a crackle and a hiss. The puddles shuddered and ripples rolled against the wind.

  The Lieutenant stopped. He stared down at the puddle and his heart beat faster. He turned and raced away from the gate, toward the main command building.

  The gate crackled once more and the rim of the massive structure groaned. Steam rolled off the edges. Then, for the briefest of moments, it popped. It was a tiny sound, almost like a ball dropping into the water.

  He stopped and held his breath. Did that just happen?

  The wind kicked up and the ripples rolled away.

  An alarm wailed at the top of the command complex.

  The Lieutenant ran and had a feeling he'd be on Lishun Delta sooner than he'd like.

  Vasilov Prime - VASCOM

  The data packet raced through antiquated systems that were laid out twenty years before. At each station it was copied, cloned, propagated, and sent out to another. Each of the Duchies received it, along with each of the individual Vasilov Armies.

  Men and women woke, raced to posts, and took in the data. It was short, brief, with a cut-off drone feed that showed enough to get an idea. The Mackinof Front was falling.

  Lord Darcy stomped past the guards and walked into the middle of the chamber. He scowled and almost stumbled on the edge of that damned dais. "Is this true?" he said.

  Around him was a circular table with each of the Vasilov Dukes. In the center, Lord Darcy—the People's Lord—stood, a reminder to all that the power went through one man, but by the grace of the others. The room was tight, almost too small, and a marble pedestal stood with a sphere of the Vasilov colonies marked out in steel orbs.

  "It's true," Duke Krenshaw said.

  "God help us. Can they hold? When can we send more men?"

  "Mackinof might have already fallen," Lord Salish said.

  "I doubt that," Lady Atzi said. "What are we waiting for? This is a military matter, I move that we commit—"

  "All of us?" Duke Krenshaw said. />
  Lady Atzi glared across the room. "You fool! If Mackinof falls, then Lishun Central Command falls. Then they're here, on Vasilov."

  Duke Krenshaw stabbed a finger at Lady Atzi. "Don't lecture me, woman, I served my time there."

  Duke Amatin, the youngest of the Dukes, stood. "We have concerns."

  The other Dukes watched. Lord Darcy knew them all, had known some of them for over fifty years. Some were good men, others were not. But they all had one thing in common: a desire to remain in power. "The Vasilov Protectorate comes before any individual colony. If Vasilov Prime falls, then this entire sector will fall."

  "But if I commit all of my troops, what of my neighbor?" Duke Amatin said with a wave of his hand toward the rest of the Dukes.

  "What of other threats? I'll not commit all of my troops!" Duke Krenshaw said. He stood and leaned over the edge of the table. "I'll stand with Vasilov Prime, but well, my neighbors..."

  "You coward," Lady Atzi said. The old woman scowled even more than usual and shook her head.

  Duke Krenshaw stood and looked offended. He opened his mouth in surprise and feigned innocence. "Were you a man, I'd duel you!"

  "Were you a man, we would duel," Lady Atzi snapped back.

  A few of the other Dukes smiled but most just watched.

  Lord Darcy watched the banter and thought. How much did the front need? Was that damned Colonel right? Once Mackinof was stabilized, they could, well, what could they do? "Each Duchy shall commit one Army Group."

  The Dukes erupted in a furor of froth and bile.

  Misers. Pennywise and pound foolish. Lord Darcy watched them babble and argue.

  "That's double the man power that we have on Lishun now! Why, almost another ten percent of my forces. Would you so deprive me of protection?" Duke Krenshaw pleaded.

  Half of the other Dukes nodded in agreement.

  "If Lishun falls then it won't matter how many armies you have at home, we can only stand as one!"

  "It will take time," Duke Amatin said. "Do we agree?"

  "Time is not something that we have the luxury of, I've committed those Armies under Vasilov command, but they are worn troops, on rotation from the front."