by T J Mott
A few laser beams easily burned holes into the police cars’ pressurized fuel tanks. Like most lighter non-electric vehicles on Ailon, they had combustion engines that ran on pure hydrogen gas—a cheap, plentiful fuel, being the single most common substance in the universe. The pressurized gas escaped through the laser holes and ignited, creating two-meter-long tongues of nearly-invisible blue flames that sounded much like a blow torch.
Now their time was extremely short. Within a few more minutes, the vehicles would start burning like beacons in the night, and it would not be long until someone arrived to investigate.
Any distraction is better than none, he realized. “Get going. Chet, you’re in charge of our movements.”
“Aye.” Chet gave formation orders and the platoon swiftly organized on the street and surrounding lawns. Then they began their march through the city, doing their best to stick to ill-lit streets, backyards, and narrow alleyways when possible. Above them, the sky was changing from deep black to a subtle purple as twilight approached. Somewhere in the distance, weapons fire rang out, and occasionally Thad caught glimpses of distant laser flashes in the corner of his eye. There were battles elsewhere in Orent.
He didn’t have a radio equipped. There hadn’t been time during their quick pack-up. He jogged to catch up with Chet, who was traveling with a couple squadmates just behind the point squad. “Any news from leadership?” Thad asked.
Chet nodded. “News is pretty spotty, but the Avennians have being doing door-to-door searches all over the city. They scared up several other Rebel platoons and there are a few scattered firefights going on. Good news is it seems quiet around us, point squad hasn’t noticed any enemy patrols yet.”
Thad’s eyes darted to the squad who were walking carefully some thirty or forty meters ahead, picking out paths through dark spots, alleys, behind buildings, or between anything that could act to obfuscate their movements and prevent detection. They moved quietly yet swiftly, and all their heads were on a swivel as they took in their surroundings and watched for potential enemies.
“Which rally point did you pick?”
“Delta,” answered Chet. “A small abandoned duplex almost two kilometers away. The building’s heavily damaged from the first war, but according to reports it was already searched by the Avennians during the night so they might not be expecting anyone to move in so soon.”
“Good call. But be wary of any booby traps there.”
Chet nodded silently, and Thad fell back and rejoined his squad. They continued on, occasionally locating and avoiding police patrols, but otherwise reaching their destination without incident. Night gave way to morning as Ailon’s small, weak sun began poking over the horizon. With Ria and her young son walking a few paces behind him, Thad just couldn’t shake the image of the Ailonian boy crying over his dead parents in the apartment’s front lawn.
Chapter 25
It was late afternoon already. Their new platoon base, like many buildings on Ailon, was composed of some kind of polymer-reinforced concrete, a cheap and lightweight mixture merely adequate for construction in the planet’s mild sunlight and mild climate. It was an abandoned, damaged duplex in an area that had once been populated by the small Ailonian middle class prior to the first war, but now, like many sectors of Orent, this area was packed full of second-class free Ailonians who had avoided enslavement and now struggled to eke out an existence in the shadow of the oppressive Avennian regime.
The duplex’s outer walls were quite porous, riddled with small-arms laser holes and a few jagged blast patterns from grenade explosions. Occasionally, a gust of wind made it whistle, creating a hollow, unmusical chord that was quite haunting. The battle damage was a relic from a war that Ailon had lost, Thaddeus realized again with a pang of guilt, because of him.
The thin polymer-concrete floor on the upper level flexed noticeably with each step as Thaddeus moved around, but it seemed to be holding up. Although it was very cramped now, the duplex was large enough to house his entire platoon and the equipment they’d managed to bring with them.
“I want doors cut from this wall on both levels,” he said to his troops, pointing at the interior wall that divided the duplex into two units. He didn’t want anyone to have to go outside to move to the other end of the building. “Use what you tear out to patch up those grenade holes a bit and keep the cold out, but I don’t want the repairs to be too obvious. We can’t have Avennia wondering if anyone’s moved in here.” He furrowed his brow at another thought. “Actually, leave them open enough to use them as gun ports. If we get into a fight here, then we can fire upon the street without using the windows.”
His Rebels got to work, inspecting the walls and searching for non-load-bearing sections that they could cut out. Meanwhile, Thad descended the narrow staircase to the duplex’s main floor, just as Chet and Ria left the unit’s tiny kitchen-turned-operating-room, both wearing Foundation-issue surgical scrubs. “How is he?” Thad asked, referring to Kole, his Third Squad team leader.
Chet shook his head in disappointment. “I had to remove the lower lobe of his lung,” he answered sorrowfully. “In better conditions, he’d eventually heal from a wound like that. But I had to prioritize my time, and a lobectomy was the fastest thing I could do. It just doesn’t seem fair to him.”
Thad chewed on his lower lip. “What about the long-term?”
“He’s done with this war, I can tell you that much. Long-term, he’ll have reduced lung capacity for the rest of his life, but it’s too early to know how much that’ll slow him down. I’m going to see if we can have him discreetly transferred out, get him moved in with some free Ailonians who can deal with his recovery, because we can’t keep him here.”
Thad nodded his agreement after a long moment. Kole’s initial recovery could take several weeks, he guessed, remembering the amputation of his own left hand. He definitely couldn’t stay, because during his recovery he’d be a liability, requiring badly-needed platoon resources and personnel. “Do that.” He paused again. “I’ll need a new squad leader, too.”
“Of course.” Chet and Ria then stripped out of their scrubs and began changing back into street clothes right in front of him. Thad respectfully turned away. There was no such thing as privacy in a small building with thirty occupants.
“Any word from leadership?” asked Ria as she changed behind him. Her voice sounded more tired than he’d ever heard before.
“I checked in with them. Things are still pretty confused. Several platoons were forced to change locations, just like we did, and we think Avennia is taking additional slaves from the free population as retribution. Meanwhile, Abram is angry and impatient and wanted to strike back today, but I managed to slow him down a bit while we regroup. I’m going to give our platoon a couple days’ rest, if possible, and then we are going to strike a nearby Army-controlled refueling depot. Try to reduce the readiness of their vehicles for this quadrant of the city.”
“So now we fight for real,” observed Chet.
Thad nodded, and turned around to see they were fully-clothed again. They both looked extremely tired. Most of the platoon was not that well-rested after marching through the night and setting up a new platoon base, but these two had been working very hard to set up an impromptu operating room and tend to Kole’s wounds. Ria in particular looked especially weary. Normally, even when she was tired she was still alert and intense, but now, her eyes seemed dull and lifeless behind drooping eyelids.
“Everything we’ve done until now was sort of a live-fire training period,” Thad said. “Low risk, low reward, to get our troops used to combat. But it all just changed. Avennia’s forcing us to move to the next stage of the war.”
Chet sighed. “Very well. Tell me what I need to know and I’ll start working on a battle plan.”
“No. I’ll continue working on getting the platoon settled in here, but you are at the very top of my list of people who need to sleep right now.”
Chet shook his head. “We�
��re a mess. We left so many things behind. We’re short on food and I need to get a resupply mission in order—”
Thad cut him off with a raised hand. “Chet, I’m taking care of it. Go to sleep.”
Chet paused, then sighed. “Thanks,” he said as he turned away and began digging through the platoon’s meager belongings for a spare bedroll.
Thad turned towards the very-tired-looking redhead. “You too, Ria.”
“I need to watch over Kole,” she protested. But there was no fight in her words.
“I’ll keep an eye on him, and Jason can help.” She flashed him a disapproving look. He grinned at her. “Hey, you trained me, remember? Now go to sleep.”
She sighed. Then she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. He hugged her back, and he had the feeling that she was so tired he was holding her upright. They stood there for a long moment, but before he could accuse her of falling asleep while standing in his arms, she broke away, and from the slow way she was moving, her slumped posture, and the exhausted expression on her face, Thad knew the war was beginning to take its toll on her.
Chapter 26
The platoon was briefed and just about ready to move. Over the radio, Abram had briefly listened to Thad’s plans and quickly approved them, even expanding upon it and ordering another platoon on the other side of the city to attack a similar target in their sector. However, Abram had seemed very distracted, leaving Thad to wonder what was going on at the Council level since the recent pushback from Avennia. They hadn’t invited him to their latest radio session, and even if they had, he’d have been too busy to join for long. Either way, he was still in the dark on the larger picture, and he hoped all his training would keep the Council and the other Rebel fighters on the right track until he got looped back into things.
The building’s small kitchen was once again a kitchen—mostly, anyways. The ad-hoc operating room had been shut down as soon as Kole left, and Thad had converted it into his command post. A small tablet lay next to the radio on the counter, showing the battle plan for the attack his platoon was about to make.
“Tell me the truth, Chad,” Ria was saying. “Is this war still winnable?”
He raised an eyebrow and studied her face carefully. He’d anticipated their recent setback, but he hadn’t anticipated its effect on morale. And Ria seemed particularly hard-hit, having become unusually quiet and withdrawn. She was still never more than a few steps away from him, when possible, because it seemed his presence comforted her, but he was beginning to worry about her.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. And he meant it. Things rarely went according to plan, but all things considered, the new Ailon Rebellion hadn’t yet strayed far from what he’d expected. “Look, Ria, we had a minor setback, but I don’t think it matters in the long run. I’ve fought my way out of far worse than this before.”
She bit at her lip and nodded slowly, almost as if she didn’t quite believe him.
“Ria, what’s on your mind? You’re not yourself.”
She looked away, at the kitchen’s closed door. On the other side, the rest of the platoon was geared up and waiting. “It’s Rin,” she said quietly.
He felt a flash of insight. “The boy across the street, right before we broke out of the hostel,” he said.
She turned to face him again, and her green eyes were now very wet. “Yes. Chad, we’re fighting in a war, and my six-year-old son is with us. How can I not be worried? It isn’t safe here. But if I send him away, he still isn’t safe. That officer could just as easily have killed the boy, too, and he’d never get in trouble for it. Ailon isn’t safe for any Ailonians. Free or slave, young or old.”
“That’ll change. Soon this world will be free and safe. I promise you.”
“You seem so sure.” She paused to wipe at her eyes. “Nobody here is doing well. Except you. You were so distant and gloomy and hurting when you first arrived here, but now, you’re more alive than I’ve ever seen you before. It’s like you thrive on fighting.”
“It’s familiar to me,” he admitted. “Hey, look. We’re going to go out there and blow up an Avennian fuel depot. You’ll feel a lot better afterwards.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “Is that how you reassure your girlfriends when they’re feeling down? You go blow up an enemy fuel depot to make them feel better?”
He chuckled slightly. “No. I meant that as a platoon commander to a member of his staff. I can tell our morale is suffering. But all we need to fix that is a victory.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. He stepped forward and took her in his arms, and after a second it was like she melted into him. He put his hand on the side of her face and stooped to kiss her. Afterwards, they stood there, their foreheads and the tips of their noses touching, and he peered into her brilliant green eyes from just a couple centimeters away. “Now that was reassuring,” she said. She pulled away, smiling slightly now, and found Thad’s laser carbine on the nearby counter. “Now that you’ve worked on my morale,” she said as she helped him sling up his carbine, “let’s go blow up that fuel depot for the sake of everyone else’s.”
***
Once again, it was night on Ailon, and once again, most of Thad’s platoon—barring a few individuals left behind to guard their new base, and six-year-old Rin Parri, of course—was in position for yet another skirmish.
And this mission had value. All of their skirmishes before had been live-fire training exercises, designed to harass the Avennians and give the Rebels some combat experience without being too risky. But this time, the results would matter.
Thaddeus and a few of his First Squad troops were on an apartment roof. It was a five-story building, which was tall for Orent, giving them a good vantage point over their target and its surroundings. Shorter buildings were packed into the narrow streets around him, except in one direction where an Avennian Army-controlled fuel depot was. The complex was closed in by chain-link fences topped with razor wire, with only three gates that were protected by guard shacks, none of which were on Thad’s side of the complex. It was small, only taking up one city block, but it was the main refueling point for all the Army vehicles that operated in this section of Orent.
At first, it reminded him of his mission to the Zhale Starport. The facility was designed with minimal security in mind, and prior to the war, getting in would have been easy. His men would have just cut through the fencing and crawled across the outer strip Ailonian yellow-grass fields, making sure nobody was around or looking their way when they needed to cut across the pavement that surrounded the complex itself: a cluster of large fuel tanks, refueling stations, buildings, and garages.
But Avennia was clearly learning from the constant hid-and-fade attacks they’d suffered at the hands of the Rebels. Several four-man Army patrols walked the perimeter, remaining inside the fences. And the grass on both sides of the fence had been cut very short, far too short for his men to hide in.
He eyed the collection of fuel tanks that sat in the middle of the complex. The tall cylindrical ones stored a heavy synthetic oil that fueled Avennia’s larger, more powerful vehicles. That oil was fairly safe, surprisingly difficult to ignite and slow-burning when not contained in the high-pressure combustion chambers of an engine. Between those tanks were a few smaller hot dog-shaped tanks containing pressurized hydrogen—often considered a “waste” product by the deuterium refineries that prepared reactor fuel. Those were for electric vehicles which operated on fuel cells, and for some combustion-powered cars and light trucks.
His radio chirped in his ear. “Eighth Platoon, in position.”
He tapped the push-to-talk button taped near his laser carbine’s trigger. “Copy,” he replied. “Standby.”
Thad’s own First Platoon was smaller than the average Rebel platoon. He only had three squads. His other two squads were in position, prone against the street curbs just a few meters away from the depot’s fences, hiding in dark spots where a casual glance from inside the fence would
n’t see them.
Eighth Platoon had four full squads, still at full strength. So far, they’d avoided casualties in the few skirmishes they’d participated in, and they’d also not been disrupted by Avennia’s recent searches. Their base wasn’t far from Thad’s new location, so tonight, they were his diversion.
He stole a glance to his left, where Ria lay prone next to him but facing the opposite direction, as she and a Rebel man named Ailin covered the rooftop entrance. He kept his eyes on her for a long few seconds before breaking away, trying not to think of the danger she was in by being a guerrilla. In an ideal world, she and her son would be nowhere near the war. But this wasn’t an ideal world. It was Ailon, in the midst of an irregular war against a foe that didn’t distinguish non-combatants from Rebels.
Jason lay to his right. The teen had proven himself a proficient marksman during the Rebels’ training phase, so tonight, he was Thad’s squad marksman. On the roof in front of him was a bulky, long-barreled laser rifle, resting on its bipod and equipped with a digital scope. Better yet, its output was mostly infrared, making its beam nearly invisible except under the darkest conditions. It was nighttime and the moon would be setting within minutes, but Thad hoped nobody would notice the rifle’s dim beam once Eighth Platoon opened up with their standard laser weapons that produced bright, violet/ultraviolet beams.
The Rebels only had a few such infrared rifles. They’d been a lucky acquisition before the shooting started, when the Rebels had been covertly stealing Avennian gear transported by Foundation trucks.