Commander Arap stood and clasped his hands behind his back. He grinned and bared his broken teeth. The bruising on his face was already going away. "My father was in the garrison at the time, a Lieutenant. They engaged the Kadan and then it escalated. It was the Vasilov's first encounter with the Kadan. The old man led a line to kick the Kadan back and they discovered a line of bases. The same ones we've been fighting with ever since. We hadn't even known they were on the planet. So we solidified our defensive positions and they've held ever since."
"And suddenly every planet had more nobles than they could count. To top it off, none of the Dukes were warring with each other. It's a unified front."
Umi nodded. "So it took an outside threat to bring the Vasilov together?"
"Basically," Colonel Clarke said. He didn't like the answer. He liked it even less when he heard it explained.
"So instead of winning this war, and going back to how it was—"
"It became part of our culture," Commander Arap said.
"Military service is mandatory, so at least nearly everyone here has served at least one tour on Lishun Delta."
Umi sighed and shook his head. "So instead of winning this years ago, you're stuck losing it now?"
"Well, we're working on that now, aren't we?"
Umi planted his hands on his hips. "Yes, I guess we are."
Kelly Dell stepped out from the ranks and raised a hand. "How did some of your troops avoid conscription?"
Colonel Clarke snapped his eyes away from Umi. He was angry at Umi, but at the same time he understood what Umi was doing. Lay it all out, state every problem, and define the root. Always the root cause with Sigg, never fight until you know the real reason. "Special skills, Engineers, machinists, miners, roboticists, almost any technologist."
"Lucky," Commander Arap mumbled.
"Let's make these two weeks count. Get a good nights rest, because tomorrow we're going all out. Dismissed," Colonel Clarke said. He added a moment later, "Umi." Colonel Clarke said.
Umi waited as everyone else emptied out of the inflatable hall. He rubbed his chin and shook his head. "Cole, this is a damned mess."
Colonel Clarke sat on a chair and rolled his head back. He sighed. "They wanted to send them all out immediately."
"It would have killed them."
"I'm sure that was the point."
Umi sat near Colonel Clarke and smoothed his pants. The front crease flattened and popped back up a moment later. "I miss the uniform."
"I know." Colonel Clarke was there when the Sigg military wound down and demobilized ninety percent of the troopers. In a heartbeat the greatest fighting force in the sector was led to pasture.
"It's not enough time."
Colonel Clarke said nothing for a moment. "Sign on as combat troops."
Umi shook his head. "I'm not going to waste the lives of my troops."
"Will you go in with the armor?" Colonel Clarke didn't want to plead, or beg, all he wanted was a bit of an edge. The Sigg could be that edge.
"Remember when the Boben hit us on Kell?"
Colonel Clarke smiled. "The start of the end. General Falk led them into that one."
"It was a close fight, we played it up as an easy win, and an intentional move."
"It wasn't?" Colonel Clarke asked, surprised.
Umi shook his head. "No. But when the line held we saw the Boben were strung to thin, we hit the edges of their columns and once they lost supply they were done."
"That was three years ago."
"And it only took us two more to finish them."
"Umi, I need your help."
Umi looked to the floor. "There is nothing I can do now that can solve your problems. I'll help as I can, but my troopers will add nothing. You know this. Your Generals are failing you and this is a stupid order."
Colonel Clarke's face turned a shade of red and he clenched his fist. "And they're my damn orders. I don't have the luxury of sitting this one out because it's hard."
Umi stood and smoothed his shirt. He turned his chin up. "A bad decision knows no rank."
"Umi!" Colonel Clarke yelled. He stood sharply and sighed. He's right, Clarke thought, and I know it. "I have my orders. We have two weeks."
Umi nodded sharply. "Two weeks," he said, and walked out.
Colonel Clarke plopped back down into his chair. He felt like the tide was carrying him out to sea.
#
Chapter Eighteen
Vasilov Prime - County of Essen, Training Camp, Hut 4
"Wake up!" Mick called out.
Tomi fell out of his bunk and landed on the floor. He scurried to his feet and hopped for a second before remembering that his feet didn't hurt. Not yet, at least. He worried that whatever the Doctor did wouldn't last. "But I just fell asleep, it's still dark!"
The barracks tent was dark, only a dim light marked the exit. A ceramic block heater pinged in the center of the room. A patter of raindrops smacked against the roof and cast a soothing echo.
"Trust me," Mick replied. He shook Hutchins. "Get up ya big galoot!"
Hutchins rolled off the top bunk and landed on the floor with a thud. He stretched and his back crackled. "Ugh. Puke."
Sergeant Nikov hung over the edge of her bunk with vomit caked on her face. She groaned and rolled back over.
Hutchins stepped to the side and wiped his feet on Sergeant Nikov's sheets.
"What are we doing!" Tomi blurted out. He was tired, sore, and fairly sure he'd never woken up so early before.
Corporal Mick ran down the length of the tent and shook the soldier on the lower bunk. He wore a crisp gray set of fatigues, a set of night vision glasses, and his wrist slate was tabbed out to a dim blue.
He stopped in front of Tomi. "Shut up. Don't ask questions. There's not time. You need to trust that whoever is telling you what to do knows more than you. You, my friend, are a child here. Do what you're told, don't talk back, and keep your mouth shut. Now get dressed."
"Yes, Corporal," Tomi replied.
He stumbled over to his locker and pulled out his fatigues. He was too tired to be offended and, he had a feeling, too tired to remember what Mick said. The Corporal kept telling him the same things and Tomi discovered that he kept forgetting.
His uniform was simple, and quite unlike anything he wore back in the real world. It was a dull gray, almost slick, with a hint of wax to it. It shed water well and breathed moisture out, but was strangely warm. He pushed his arms into the tight sleeves and it crackled as he moved. The night vision glasses were like the ones he wore in the mines except lighter. The boots were a thing of bliss as soon as he squirmed his toes in.
Finally he stood, fully dressed. Only one person was still in bed. Sergeant Nikov.
"Hutch, Tomi, gimme a hand," Corporal Mick said.
Tomi wrapped her arm around his neck and he steered her toward the bathroom. She smelled horrible, worse than she should have. Tomi had to turn his head away and try to keep step with Hutch.
The rest of the squad sat on the edge of the bunks and watched with sleepy eyes.
They set her down on the edge of a shower stall and Mick stomped down on the water valve. A jet of water hit her and she screamed. She rolled on the floor and moaned. The bruising on her face was like a fall rose. She struggled onto her hands and knees and vomited again.
"Okay!" she cried out.
Mick released the jet. "You have five minutes, Sergeant."
Tomi glanced down at Sergeant Nikov and felt Mick's eyes on him.
"Get out, let's give her some room."
Tomi walked back out and sat on the edge of his bed. She was supposed to be his squad leader and she couldn't even go to the bathroom for herself.
Sergeant Nikov stumbled out a minute later and struggled into a set of fatigues. She dry heaved almost continuously. Everyone in the tent stared at their squad Sergeant.
A siren wailed through the morning air and whistles blared outside. A Lieutenant burst into the tent with a man in gr
een camo.
"Right! This is what I like to see!" the Lieutenant barked with a mean grin on his face. "I'm Lieutenant Torori, your Platoon leader. This upstanding Sigg behind me is Hans. Hans is your new friend."
Hans stood like a block of steel fresh from the forge. One eye was missing and black orb sat in its place. His biceps pushed out against the fabric of his fatigues. His hair was cut so short that the morning mist sat on the tips.
"Outside," Hans said with a rough Sigg accent. "Now!" he bellowed.
The squad raced past Hans and the Lieutenant.
Tomi followed in the midst of the pack and kept his eyes on what everyone else did. He lined up like the rest, stood like they did, and kept his mouth shut, just like everyone else.
The yard in front of the tents was bathed in a wash of alkaline white light. The horizon was barely a smudge. Mist hung low in ribbons of gray. Soldiers rushed out from the tents and took places on the yard.
It was a rabble that emerged. Most stood with a semblance of silent discipline. Others wandered away and talked with the others. A few were helped by other soldiers, and some even lay on the ground. They all cast hard shadows in the hard light.
Tomi turned his head just a bit and tried to see what was happening. He felt out of place, uncomfortable, tired, and just wanted to go back to sleep.
"First," Hans said over the din of the crowds, "we run."
Tomi groaned.
"You," Hans bellowed and pointed at Tomi, "will lead. We leave no one! Everyone in ranks, now go!"
Tomi ran in the direction that Hans pointed. It was simply toward the dark and away from the sunrise.
The Sigg waited until the end of the line and pointed his baton at Lieutenant Torori. "You too, Toro! Run!"
Tomi ran in as straight a line as he could and stumbled face-first into an old shell hole. He flailed about in the water and struggled to get a grip. Hands grabbed him by the back and pulled him out. He gasped and moaned.
"Gotta turn on your NV, eh?" Mick said as he pushed the power button on the side of Tomi's glasses.
The sky suddenly brightened in shades of gray, light red, and a tone of green. Tomi stood, sodden to the core, and struggled out of the hole. Dumb, he thought, downright dumb. I should have known better, who runs into the darkness without a light or night vision? He gritted his teeth and clawed through the mud.
"Move, move!" Hans called out. He was already in the next shell hole and waving them on his with baton.
Tomi raced over the crest and stumbled to the bottom. Behind him Mick ran with Hutch close behind. The rest of the squad crested and tumbled behind. Lieutenant Torori came in the rear, his mouth wide open and gasping for breath.
"Halt!" Hans yelled.
The bulk of the squad stood in the bottom of the shell hole.
Tomi wheezed at the bottom of a trench. "Where is your Sergeant?" Hans asked. He leveled his baton at Lieutenant Torori.
"Shit," Lieutenant Torori said. "Squad! Follow me!"
The anger pushed Tomi out of one hole, into the next, and finally at the bottom of a third. There they found Nikov vomiting.
Hutchins grabbed one arm and a bald headed Private named Gous grabbed the other. They pushed her out of one hole and the entire squad helped her down the next.
Tomi struggled to hold her weight as they helped her across the next pit. He pushed her roughly into Hutchins arms and fought to climb out of that hole. Then it all happened again.
At each crest they pushed Nikov over and waiting hands helped her down. By now the vomiting stopped but she could barely stand. Hans said nothing and followed on the crest of the craters.
Day came in a sheet of gray and still the squad pushed through the craters. A low hill, riddled and pocked, loomed ahead. The camp was in the distance, but only the relay tower poked up into the sky.
Tomi struggled. He was at the back of the squad and drawing the ire of his mates. But he didn't feel too bad, he wasn't alone. Sergeant Nikov could barely stand and a Private named Veriha was wheezing like an old horse.
Hutchins lost his footing and tumbled back into the crawling squad. He flailed and everyone tumbled into the ice cold muck.
"You dumb Waslav!" a Corporal named Puck hollered as he scrambled out of the muck.
"Who you calling dumb!" Hutchins yelled back. He was the picture of a Waslavian farmhand, big and slow.
Corporal Puck swung a wide punch and clipped Hutchins right on the cheek.
"Oh hoh!" Hutchins said and dove at the Corporal.
Lieutenant Torori pushed through the crowd. "At ease! At ease!"
"Get fucked!" Corporal Puck yelled and dove away from the reach of Hutchins.
"Lieutenant, control these men," Hans said. His tone was indifferent and he stood on the edge of the crater with his hands on his hips.
Lieutenant Torori looked up to Hans. "How?"
"The rest of your squad, perhaps?" Hans said.
Tomi fell and watched as the larger Hutchins struggled to catch Corporal Puck. I'd hate to take a punch from Hutch, he thought.
Hutchins was red with rage. His mouth was ringed with froth and his eyes almost bugged out of his head. He stumbled and charged and like a young bull, missing every time. Puck always seemed to be a half-second ahead.
Lieutenant Torori stood mute, as if unable to see a way out. The others watched and cheered.
"Toro?" Hans said with a slight smile.
Lieutenant Torori snapped out of his moment. "Squad! Everyone rush in and pin these two, go!"
The squad moved in reluctantly. Puck jumped away and raised his hands while grinning. Hutchins back off like a cornered animal.
Tomi didn't want to get near either, but found one arm on Hutchins's shoulder and used the combined strength of a half dozen to finally hold him. He felt Hutchins struggle and groan before the muscles relaxed.
Hutchins wheezed and spat into the muddy earth. He looked up at the Lieutenant and nodded. His face relaxed and he shook his head. "Sorry, LT."
"You two," Hans said, pointing at Hutchins and Puck, "shall carry the Sergeant. Go!"
Sergeant Nikov glared as the two stomped over to her. They helped her to her feet and neither Hutchins nor Puck looked at each other. They both grunted and started up the incline once again.
"Keep moving!" Lieutenant Torori said. He rubbed his nose and wiped blood away from where a stray elbow had cracked it.
The squad moved as slow Hutchins and Puck could carry Nikov. Soon they crested the pock marked hill. Other squads rested in the sun. Nearly a thousand soldiers sat on the rise. The rain stopped and the mist crawled across the landscape in shimmering drifts. Had it not been for the massed craters it would have been beautiful.
Tomi sat on a cracked rock next to Mick. Every bit of him ached. He fought to keep his eyes open, even though it was just the middle of the day. He watched as other squads pushed through the craters. They were like struggling ants, all with a Sigg escort.
Puck sat next to Hutchins, the two now battle buddies. Forced to pair up for the remainder of the op. Neither one looked very happy about it.
Hans stepped to the center of the collapsed squad. He hardly even looked dirty, just the bottom of his fatigues. If anything he looked bored. "Slates are on for ten minutes, you'll find a survey. Do it. Chow will be up in twenty."
A prime mover crawled across the landscape. It heaved and bounced over the tortured landscape. Behind it a long covered trailer bucked and bounced.
"Chow!" Hutchins and Puck said loudly and stared out into the distance. Each of the soldiers glanced at the other and then scowled and focused on their slates.
Tomi wiped the dirt off the face of his wrist mounted slate. The background flickered and he tapped his way through the questionnaire. It asked his previous occupation, what equipment he could drive, whether he was an addict, and finally a few questions about mechanical aptitude. When he answered the last question, the slate went dead.
He poked at it and missed the diversion of his ow
n slate back home.
"If they leave 'em on, people just play and play and putz and poke," Mick said as he tapped his screen. "In basic, they don't even get to use 'em at all."
"I could drive through a tunnel, mine a vein, and poke my tab," Tomi said.
"You were a miner?" a Private named Waslinski said as she tapped her slate.
"Yah, best there was!" Tomi said. He stood and stretched. "Faster than the old farts, sharper than the algo-miner computers and, of course, better looking."
"So what are you doing here?" Waslinski asked. "That's an exempted profession, you should be living the golden life."
Tomi licked his lips. All around him the rest of the squad watched him for an answer. He felt warm, his eyes scanned out to the artillery range and hoped that the chow truck would go faster. The words didn't want to come, he was locked in the moment.
"We all made mistakes," Corporal Mick said. "I got black out drunk. What about you Hutch?"
"I thumped an idiot," Hutchins chuckled. "An Officer. And he, uh, didn't get back up."
"Sergeant Nikov?" Mick said.
Sergeant Nikov leveled her black and blue ringed eyes at Mick and glared.
Mick grinned back. "How 'bout you, Puck?"
Puck kicked a foot out and grinned. "Theft! Sold a transport truck as scrap."
"Ahh, well done!" Mick said. "And you, Waslinski?"
Waslinski said nothing and crossed her arms over her chest. She tucked her chin into her chest.
"Must be innocent," Mick said with a wink to Tomi. He went down the line and asked the rest.
"Drunkenness," Private Sophia said.
"Manslaughter, shot a man while I was drunk," a slender faced Corporal named Veriha said.
"Selling Kettle," Private Bosovitz said. "I was a Sergeant."
"I didn't do shit!" Private Wesse said.
"Leave me alone," Corporal Xeddick said. He turned away from the squad.
Mick shrugged. "Anyone else want to volunteer a good story? How about you, LT?"
Lieutenant Torori looked up from his slate and shook his head. "I'm not in the penal system. Just a regular Officer hanging out with you jailbirds."
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