Act of War

by R. L. Giddings

  “Is that so terrible. To be alone, like that. That’s the reality which most people in the Confederation deal with on a daily basis: to strive for a future which isn’t set in stone, and hasn’t already been pre-determined by someone else. To live an independent life.”

  “Exactly, surgeon captain. And for that reason alone, you will always have my pity.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Mullens worked hard to bring the shuttle in as gently as he could, easing the nose up in an attempt to arrest the speed of their descent as he attempted to dissipate the heat of their entry more evenly across the shuttle’s fuselage. Then, at barely ten thousand feet, his tactics changed. Braking hard to the left, he deployed a series of countermeasures before dropping down to five hundred feet in an attempt to throw off any ground units who might be targeting them.

  In short, a typical combat landing.

  For the passengers, the sensation was not dissimilar to having driven your car directly into a lift shaft.

  Webster was pinned against his seat and twice had to force down the vomit which rose to the back of his throat.

  It was Markham’s voice which came over the intercom.

  “Okay, listen up, everybody. You all have your instructions. Stick with your fire teams and effect your exit as quickly as possible. The aim is to re-convene at rally point alpha at O- seven hundred hours. In the event that things go south, we’ll see you at rally point bravo at oh nine hundred. Failing that, you’re all walking home.”

  A subdued ripple of laughter came through from the main hold.

  “Mullens has instructions to minimise his time on the ground today and would appreciate a swift ex-fil. We’re going to be a little exposed down here and after what happened earlier we can’t afford to take any chances.”

  What happened earlier?

  It took Webster’s drug addled brain a while to realise what Markham was talking about.

  He was talking about the Dardelion. Their ship was gone, along with all her crew.

  How could such a thing happen?

  As the engine’s note shifted from a moan to a full-blown wail, Mullens flicked up a few switches on the overhead monitor before dipping the nose down hard and to the right. Webster was thrown against his restraints where he found himself in the unenviable position of looking straight down at the ground.

  At the last moment the nose came up and they hit the ground hard, sending a jolt up through Webster’s spine. If that’s what it felt like through his armoured chair he wondered what it must have felt like for those sitting in the cheap seats.

  Before he even had time to remove his restraints, Webster heard the familiar clank and hum of machinery as the cargo doors opened. He unstrapped himself and climbed out of his seat before pulling on his jacket and grabbing his pack.

  Next thing, he was struggling to fight his way out through the main cabin and down the main ramp. For a moment, he was blinded by the daylight, and might have missed his footing if he hadn’t blundered into the back of one of the Marines.

  “This way, sir,” the man said, placing a hand firmly between his shoulders to remind him to keep his head down.

  Then they were running across unfamiliar terrain which was hard and frozen. The air quality was poor and within a minute, Webster’s body was bathed in sweat. He had hoped that once they were clear of the shuttle, their pace might slacken but that didn’t prove to be the case.

  I’m going to have to stop, he told himself.

  But every time he did so, the Marine at his side would grab him and attempt to pull him along.

  “Sir, we’re falling behind. We have to keep up.”

  Things only got worse when they came to a sharp incline and after a few steps he found himself struggling just to breathe. Still, his companion refused to let up and he had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. The air was bitterly cold so that every breath was a jagged pleasure.

  Just when he thought he could go no further, he felt an arm wrap itself around his waist and he was guided underneath a large overhang.

  “You alright, sir?” Markham didn’t look up from the tablet he was consulting.

  “I’ll live,” he managed before dropping onto his haunches as he tried to regulate his breathing.

  “Okay,” Markham was saying. “Five more minutes here and then we move on to the next waypoint.”

  When Webster looked up he could see the Marines in his fire team standing over him. None of them was out of breath in the least.

  It was going to be a difficult morning.

  *

  By the time they reached the third way point, Webster was ready to call it a day. Sitting on a low abutment of rock he was currently having difficulty sitting upright.

  There was just no way that he was going to be able to keep up with these guys, and that was with them slowing down to wait for him at each waypoint. The fact that none of them showed their frustration was, he thought, more to do with Markham’s discipline than any respect they might have for him.

  Then, just as he was ready to give up, Markham came over sat down next to him.

  “Another thirty minutes and we should be there,” Markham said matter-of-factly.

  Then he lowered his voice so that only Webster could here.

  “We’ve got a bit of a situation here, sir. One of the troopers has identified a possible hostile. Spoke to me at the last way point. I haven’t seen them but Garrold did and I trust Garrold’s sighting more than I’d my own.”

  “What are we talking about? Any chance it might be one of the Da’al?”

  “We currently don’t have enough information to judge either way,” and then he paused. “But it could be part of some reconnaissance group.”

  If the Da’al were here already then that would jeopardise their entire mission. He didn’t see how that could be possible but then he hadn’t forseen them taking out the Dardelion either. Going by recent events it was perhaps preferable if they remained cautious.

  Then Markham said, more formally, “How would you like us to handle this, sir?”

  “If it’s a lone individual then I’d like them brought in but if they’re part of a larger group then observe and report back.”

  “What if they put up a fight – this lone individual?”

  “Do what you have to but I need them alive, sergeant. They’re no use to me dead. Is that quite clear?”

  “Very clear, sir. I’ll leave a couple of troopers behind when we next move on. They should be able to drop back and flank them.”

  Webster nodded, all his thoughts about his fitness forgotten. The next hour could prove very interesting indeed.

  *

  LaCruz, Walker and Barnes stood on a small bluff over-looking what had once been the research facility. It didn’t look like much of anything now. The Da’al had done a thorough job destroying it and the climate hadn’t helped. The cold was bad enough but once the interior had been exposed, the biting wind would do the rest, scattering materiel over an ever widening area. LaCruz could see that in twelve months’ time it would be difficult to imagine that there’d ever been a camp at this location.

  They surveyed the camp’s remains for over an hour looking for signs of life but, more pragmatically, checking for any indications that the site had been booby trapped. By the time they started to move down onto the plain, LaCruz was confident that there was no one alive down there but, even so, there was something about the place which unnerved her. She wasn’t sure what it was but the feeling only increased the further they moved into the valley.

  Perhaps it was more to do with her inexperience at handling the battle suit. Certainly, the process of actually propelling the suit down a gentle slope was a lot more demanding than it had been when working in the VR environment.

  LaCruz was watching everything now with a sense of detachment – in the full knowledge that every decision they made would be fully interrogated when, and if, they ever managed to make it back home.

  Th
e biggest question would surely be why had they decided to land at the research facility and not proceed to the site of the crashed space craft. And LaCruz didn’t really have a decent answer. As the senior trooper she had nominally taken charge after the Dardelion went down, simply following the mission objectives which had been entered into her suit’s telemetry systems. With Mensah gone, she saw no reason to split the group up any more than was necessary. There had been no discussion about it, it was just what had happened.

  But now, with no sign of the other Marines, she was starting to wonder whether she’d made the right call.

  The main thing which appeared to be working in their favour was the actual suits themselves. Though their experience of entering atmosphere had been undeniably terrifying – the closest any of them would ever come to being fired from the barrel of a giant canon – the suits had taken it all in their stride. It was almost as if that had been the plan from the start.

  While each one of them had had to deal with the stress of what had happened individually, LaCruz had surrendered herself to the experience imagining that she was a passenger on one of those in-atmosphere fusion fighters, with a particularly gifted pilot at the controls. So that when the maneuvers were at their most distressing, she comforted herself with the idea that the pilot was simply trying to unnerve her and that soon they would be safely on the ground.

  And so it had transpired.

  Now, as they got closer to the camp, everything started to feel a little too real. She’d had her fair share of postings to hostile environments in her time but this one looked to be the bleakest by far.

  How was anyone supposed to have survived this?

  One of the dormitory sections lay over to her right, partially flattened by some great force. Inside was a mess but she could still clearly make out some of the items which had adorned the walls. There was a paper calendar with various sections blocked off and then on one wall, a montage of various photo images.

  For some reason, this reminded her of her brother so strongly that her hands started to shake and she had difficulty drawing breath.

  Keep it together, she told herself. The people out here would have known the risks they’d be taking when they’d signed on.

  She made herself keep moving, urging Walker and Barnes to spread out. Between them, they had enough recording equipment to film the whole of the camp. Afterwards, all the information they’d gathered could be put into a communications drone and sent back to the Admiralty. Even if they couldn’t make sense of what had happened, she was sure that the analysts back home would be able to.

  LaCruz came across the ruins of a large hydroponics shed and decided to investigate. The windows had all been shattered by the various explosions but other than that and the fact that all the plants which had been housed here were all long dead, everything else was still in place. A lot of time had been dedicated to setting the place up in order to provide food for the scientists and technicians long into the future but ultimately it had all been a waste of time.

  All the effort that had gone into selecting the plants and transporting them halfway across the universe had come to nothing. All those good intentions ruined.

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her today but for some reason LaCruz found the sight of rows of shrivelled, grey plants deeply upsetting.

  And that was before she’d seen a single corpse.

  Which was odd since, by rights, there should have been bodies everywhere. She had been preparing herself for the fact. The only good thing was that there would have been no children on the camp. Confederation law stated that no one under the age of eighteen could be housed in a camp that was less than five years old. Before that milestone was passed, the likelihood of such a facility failing was well over seventy percent.

  The frontiers of space were not for the faint hearted.

  As she emerged from the shed, she spoke into her sub-vocal mic. “I’ve been looking around. Either of you two see any bodies?”

  “Er, no,” Walker sounded as surprised by the idea as she did. “That’s a negative.”

  “Barnes? What about you?”

  No reply.

  “Barnes, this is Jackson. Are you receiving me, over?”

  Still nothing.

  “Heay, Lou,” Walker urged. “Stop fooling around. I can see you from here.”

  “Barnes, do you copy?” LaCruz was getting frustrated but didn’t want him to know that.

  She took a bearing on Barnes position from her HUD and started moving in that direction.

  The comms were suddenly filled with static and then Barnes voice cut through.

  “You guys really need to see this.”

  “Walker?” she said, picking up speed.

  “I’m already on it.”

  It was odd, she reflected, how quickly you adapted to walking in the suits became once you were distracted. When you had nothing else to think about it was too easy to become overly fastidious about the actual walking process itself. But now, with something else to occupy her, she moved quickly and confidently across the ground, nudging a small generator aside as she went.

  She didn’t pick up on the alert straightaway. She’d almost become immune to the suit’s various warning systems – there were just so many of them and she had no idea what half of them meant anyway. After a while, the constant pinging sound finally got her attention.

  It was linked to an arrow icon which had appeared at the very top of her visor. As she looked up, it caused her to unconsciously raise her head and that’s when she saw it.

  If she’d just come across it casually, she could just have easily dismissed it as a bird – it had a very similar profile. But with the targeting software highlighting it in stark relief, there was no mistaking what it was she was looking at.

  The Da’al had arrived.

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  Ardent had arranged to meet with Meyer in her own room. It was an unusual request and she had been surprised when he had agreed to it so readily.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have been. The whole issue surrounding the miners on Laax had quickly become a hot talking point, polarising opinions on both sides. Many felt that they had brought the current crisis down on themselves and warranted no support as a result, while others felt that they’d been extremely unfortunate to have been caught up in the crossfire in the first place and deserved all the help they could get.

  This wasn’t a conversation either she or Meyer wanted to be having an open debate about.

  Meyer was five minutes late in arriving which got things off to a rather strained start. For all his failings, Captain Meyer prided himself on his punctuality. His late arrival was clearly calculated as a mild reprimand.

  He knew that Ardent had been contacting the owners and captains of the various civilian ships. No doubt he’d listened to recordings of those conversations himself. Ardent had been very clear about what she intended to do and had even gone as far as asking him for his permission. But just because Meyer knew about it didn’t mean that he approved.

  They sat together in Ardent’s office. Because she had been moved to the accommodation an admiral would have required should the Renheim ever be used as a flag-ship, her quarters came with an office intended for use by her personal private secretary. The room was a little stuffy, having rarely been used, but it served their purposes adequately now.

  “As you know, captain, I’ve been looking into this whole matter of rescuing the miners and I’m starting to think that we may have a solution.”

  Meyer said nothing. He sat there with his legs crossed looking uncomfortable.

  “We obviously don’t have the capacity to land on the planet but it looks like we won’t have to. Laax has its own orbital docking facility. It’s fairly rudimentary and set up for freight but with a few tweaks I think we could make it work for civilians.”

  “By ‘we’, I take it that you mean Commander Farnese?”

  Although she’d been expecting it, the comment still unne
rved her.

  “The commander helped me out with some of the more technical issues.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  Meyer folded his arms, looking as though he’d rather be anywhere but in this room, right now.

  “You’re not serious about going through with this evacuation – after all that happened with The Merry Widow.”

  “The Widow’s captain acted recklessly but he was on his own. He had no support. We have a whole fleet of ships at our disposal. We could divide the survivors up, spread them between the various ships. That way, some of them might make it.”

  “It’s not much of a plan but I’m sure some of those captains might be willing to take you up on it – if you pay them enough.”

  Ardent let that one pass. So far, the only thing the captains had requested was access to various engineering facilities as they rushed to make the necessary adaptations to allow them to carry passengers.

  “And have you re-considered your position?” she asked. “Regarding the Renheim’s role in all this. Surely, the chances of getting these people to safety would be greatly increased if they had a Confederation warship watching their backs.”

  “I’m sorry, Governor. While I am, of course, sympathetic to the plight of the people of Laxx, I’m not comfortable with the Renheim in the role of a gunship.”

  His dismissive tone, unsettled her. In normal negotiations, Ardent liked to exploit an adversary’s own self interest in order to get what she wanted but in Meyer’s case self preservation seemed to be his only concern.

  She decided to take a different approach.

  “So you’re willing to sit here and do nothing while these civilian captains do your job for you.”

  “It is better to be patient than powerful, Governor. Better to have self control than conquer a city. Proverbs 16:32.”

  Ardent got to her feet. She was in no mood to be lectured.

  “Captain Meyer, I have been on board this ship for several days, nearly a week now, and in that time I’ve seen some very brave people do some frankly amazing things. Could you tell me what you’ve contributed to the war effort in that time?”