by Eric Thomson
“Oh, that’s going to hurt. This is one of those times I’m glad that the Atabek prefers Nelvans for battalion command.”
“You think he’s going to relieve Daran?”
“Doubtful. He’s got to have a lot invested in offering a light infantry battalion trained on Commonwealth Marine lines. Daran was always the first and only choice. She’s the smartest among the senior silahdar and if anything, a bigger favorite with our owner than Norik.”
“So Norik’s done.”
“Like a calcinated steer. The Atabek has little patience for failure, notwithstanding the boy’s previous stardom among us peasants. He’ll be relieved of command pretty much the moment Daran lands with the rest of First Company. Speaking of which, I hope you told Terkis to make himself scarce.”
“Yeah. I can figure out what Norik might do once he realizes he’s got nothing left to lose.”
“Good. Terkis is the smartest of the Nelvan meatheads in First Company. It’d be a shame if anything happened to him. Norik’s successor is going to need all the help he can get to repair the damage and have the troops ready for the grand unveiling.”
When Resson’s significant stare finally registered, Decker shook his head.
“No. No, how, no way, just no. There’s any number of smart platoon leaders ready for a step up in this battalion.”
“But there’s none that can sort out the mess Norik made of First Company quickly enough.”
“Forget about it.” Decker shook his head again.
Resson laughed softly.
“It’s kind of cute that you think you’ve got any say. This isn’t the Corps, where you can refuse a promotion. This is slavery, where you do as the boss says, or you end up making mine owners really happy to get a big buck like you for a few creds.”
“Let’s just see how things unfold,” he replied angrily. That small part of him still planning to escape and repay those who’d taken his life away knew it would be easier for him to run if he wasn’t responsible for over a hundred soldiers. It wasn’t just that he’d have more eyes on him; it was also because he’d be unable to abandon troops who looked to him for leadership.
The wait wasn’t destined to be long. As he’d parked his skimmer in the vehicle enclosure, he had watched Latour and Terkis unload their commands at the double, after which the thopters had pulled away for the second load. That second load was landing now, judging by the thumping of wings.
Shortly afterward, Mala Daran stalked into the command tent, eyes shining with a mixture of fear and anger.
“Resson, get me a call to the Atabek. When we have a connection, I want everyone out.”
“As you command.” He nodded and then glanced at Decker, his expression giving Zack the unmistakable order to vanish.
Expelled from battalion headquarters and anxious to avoid an enraged Norik, he did the only sensible thing he could: he ordered himself on a one-man patrol outside the FOB’s defensive berm, preferably beyond weapons range.
Eleven
“Decker.”
Zack jumped as Resson’s voice blared in his ears.
“Yeah?”
“Commander wants to see you. Where the heck did you go off to?”
“Keeping my ass out of the line of fire, XO. You know how it is. I’m down by the river looking at footprints the size of blower fans.”
“Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope. Beautiful fresh tracks. Mud’s still shiny, and the edges haven’t collapsed. Must be some big critter. Looks like it headed for the water.”
“Get. Out. Of. There.”
The vehemence in Resson’s tone caught his attention, and he rose from a crouch, looking around with alarm.
“You do not want to meet a strilak. At least tell me you’re armed.”
“What do you think, XO? Of course, I’m not armed. Lora’s sitting on what live ammo we brought. What’s a strilak, by the way?”
“Ever heard of an Earth critter called a crocodile?”
“Vaguely,” Decker replied as he cautiously retraced his steps uphill to the FOB.
“The strilak’s sort of like that and even though it can’t digest humans, especially those wearing battledress, it’ll try. Every time. It’s a lot faster than you are, buddy, and a lot bigger.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“There hasn’t been a strilak spotted on the entire peninsula in years. I guess one made it upriver and found itself some happy hunting grounds.”
A hoarse cry that reminded him of nothing so much as an out of tune bugle made Zack look over his shoulder.
“I guess it found me.”
He broke into a run, legs pumping as he pushed his way through the brush dotting the hillside.
“Watch for covering fire. I’m getting the sentries to load up,” Resson replied. “The boss would be really annoyed if you turned into lunch for the beast.”
“Not that I’d care,” Zack grumbled, conserving his breath. Running in full fighting order wasn’t all that difficult, not when he wasn’t loaded down with weapons and ammo, but the hillside was steep, and he had to watch his step at all times. Stumbling over an exposed rock or stepping into a hidden pothole could spell the end to a promising slave career.
The strilak bugled again and this time, it was close enough for Decker to grimace at the carrion stench on its breath.
“Now would be a good time, XO,” he shouted into the radio.
He felt jaws snap by his heels and redoubled his efforts to push up the slope. His leg muscles were feeling the burn, and it was just a matter of time before he lost speed.
“Decker, when I say drop, make yourself one with the ground.”
“Aw, crap. You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”
“No choice, buddy. Shot’s got to go down its throat if we want to kill it instantly. The thing’s better armored than your skimmer and its brain case even more so.”
Zack cursed at his own stupidity. The strilak’s call, close enough to make the air vibrate, had woken an atavistic fear in him, and he struggled to contain the growing sense of panic at what seemed an inevitable end as critter snack.
Resson shouted, “Drop!”
With one last shove uphill, he threw himself down and prayed.
Plasma cracked over his head, and the strilak’s triumphant cry became a scream that turned Zack’s muscles to jelly.
A gush of gore splashed over him but thankfully the dying beast’s jaws snapped shut a few centimeters short of his outstretched legs.
“Clear.” Resson’s voice had never been so welcome. “You owe Breen, from Second Company, a big one, Decker.”
Zack weakly raised his arm to acknowledge his gratitude but remained prone, letting the adrenaline surge bleed off. When the stench of the dead strilak hit his nostrils, he found enough motivation to push himself up and slowly trudge back to the FOB. Unfortunately, the smell followed him, and he understood why when he looked down at his legs: they were covered in greenish blood and flecks of unidentifiable flesh and bone.
“Got anything to hose me down?” He asked wearily over the radio. “I doubt the commander will want me anywhere near her the way I am.”
“The field shower’s ready. No need to strip, and yeah, we can smell it from here.”
*
Decker lifted the command tent’s door flap and poked his head inside.
“You wanted to see me?”
Daran jerked her chin towards the empty field chair by the folding table. Resson and Cyone already there, the latter examining him critically. Decker had shed the combat harness, but his battledress still dripped water from the impromptu hosing down.
“First off,” Daran said, after he took his seat, “I have accepted full responsibility for not taking your warnings about Norik more seriously. That failing has cost the Fifth Orta and the Kashdushiya as a whole a capable, if overconfident company commander.”
Zack managed to keep a straight face at her characterization of Norik. Overrated was probably a better word.
“The Atabek has chastised me, as was proper, and has set me the task of fixing the problem before the new model battalion is unveiled. Should I fail to do so, I will suffer Norik’s fate.”
At Decker’s questioning look, she glanced down at the table, clearly embarrassed.
“He has been reassigned as a simple silahdar in the First Orta. The thopter that just departed is carrying him back to the base for onwards transport to the Ytrell mines. If the Fifth isn’t up to the required standard on the appointed date, I will join him.”
“The big boss doesn’t screw around, does he?” Decker asked no one in particular.
“I’ve been given complete freedom to do as I like,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “These then are my orders: Decker, you will take command of First Company. Cyone, you are now the Fifth Orta’s sanjaqui. You may appoint the best of your technicians as armorer in your stead.”
“As you command,” Cyone nodded.
When Decker didn’t follow suit, Daran gave him a curious look.
“You have problems with my orders?”
“Seeing as how I don’t have much choice in the matter, may I offer suggestions to speed remediation up a bit?”
Her hard eyes met his for a few moments.
“You may.”
“First Company, as it stands, cannot be brought up to the new standards in the time available. Not by me, not by anyone. The silahdars will resent me and drag their feet enough to make sure I fail and join Norik in the mines.”
“He’s got a point,” Resson said, nodding. “I hope you’ve also got an answer, buddy.”
“I do.” Decker’s smile was grim. “You’re going to love this. The other company commanders are going to love this even more.”
“Why do I suddenly feel like I’d rather not hear your proposal?” Resson made a sour face.
Daran held up her hand to forestall any more banter.
“Go on.”
“Spread the misery and the work needed to get First Company up to snuff. I keep two platoons, Terkis’ and the heavies, and swap out one platoon each with Second and Third Company. I’ll take Tran Kidder and his troops from the latter, and the pick of the Second Company litter. I know it’ll bring down Second and Third’s standards for a while, but it’ll give me a fighting chance to bring up First Company’s.”
And a better chance of not ending up with a juluk shoved into my ear by disgruntled Nelvan soldiers, he thought.
Daran looked at her second-in-command who chuckled, if not at Zack’s words, then at the somewhat exaggerated pleading expression on his face.
“Makes sense,” Resson said. “I can’t see any other way to go. Just a question, Zack: why keep the heavies? Wouldn’t it be better to swap them out at the section level?”
“I think I can work them through it, XO. They’ve got to be frustrated at Norik never having used them correctly. Just for that, I figure they’ll listen to me.”
“Cyone?” Daran glanced at her new adjutant.
“I don’t see what else we can do, commander.”
*
If the sign of a good compromise was no one leaving the table happy, then Decker’s platoon swap had to be the best idea since the invention of slave soldiering. No doubt the same lack of enthusiasm would permeate down through the platoon leaders to the last of the silahdars since they would see it as forcing them to re-do the last few weeks’ worth of training.
But, as Decker was beginning to appreciate, slave soldiers were easier to handle under these circumstances. They didn’t dare openly object or slack off in a way that was too obvious, for fear of punishment up to, and including the juluk pit. That meant they paid attention when he spoke.
The two platoon leaders he’d kept, Terkis and Sal Aran, who had the heavies, seemed relieved to have Decker take over. The fiasco of the battle run had drained away any confidence they had in Norik and demoralized their troops.
Kidder and Nik Vulin, the other platoon leader transferred in, weren’t impressed, but they were smart enough to understand why it had to happen. At least now he had an even balance between Nelvan and Commonwealth platoon leaders, even if First Company was still slanted towards the former in the lower ranks.
“So?” Resson asked as he walked up to where Decker was watching his company pack up their part of the FOB, three weeks after Norik’s ignominious departure.
“They’re about up to average colonial rifles standard, which isn’t bad when you consider they started at mid-wit Nelvan levels. Given another month, I could’ve had them run circles around the rest of the battalion, but that would have been beside the point.”
Resson slapped him on the shoulder.
“At least we now have three infantry companies that are better trained than any others in the Kashdushiya, and probably better than most of what’s available this side of the Coalsack.”
“I sure as hell hope so. Daran’s a good sort when she finally opens her eyes, and it would have been a shame to lose her.”
“Not to mention the possibility of you seeing your old buddy Norik again in the barracks of the First Orta,” Resson grinned. “That would have been the grudge match to end all grudge matches.”
“Followed by a screaming duet in the juluk pit,” Zack replied dryly. “No thanks.”
“Scuttlebutt has it that Norik demanded a session with the damned critters to expiate his failings.”
“And not coincidentally raise his profile again,” Decker grunted. “I hope the Atabek refused.”
“Resoundingly, I hear.”
“Good.”
“It’ll be nice to get food from the mess hall again,” Resson looked around at the rapidly vanishing encampment, “and a hot shower.”
Decker snorted.
“Too bad there’s no cold beer waiting for us.”
“The Danjorans have an analog, from what I’ve heard, but apparently the only effect it has on humans is a case of the screaming runs.”
“Then it’s not an analog, just some alien drink that sucks.”
“What sucks?” Daran asked, joining the two men.
“That which passes for booze among our owner’s species, apparently,” Decker replied. “I was telling Jase how much I want to make love to a cold beer when we get back to base.”
“Some days I worry that you’re losing touch with reality, Zack.” She shook her head in mock despair. “You’ll be pleased to hear that the Atabek was satisfied with my last after action report. We’ve been given two days of full rest before we start working on the demonstration battle drills. The date has been announced to prospective clients and with some of them traveling from a great distance, there will be no change.
She touched Decker’s arm.
“I don’t believe I’ve thanked you yet.”
“I hate seeing good troops wasted by arrogant commanders, Mala.” His voice was soft, but his tone was hard. “Although I didn’t want to become a company commander, I did a damn better job at it than Norik ever would have. His head was never going to come out of his ass. You may want to think about how breeding slave soldiers might limit their ability to think. Having your every minute owned by someone else doesn’t exactly make for intellectual flexibility.”
“I was born to the silahdar,” she countered with asperity.
“And you gave Norik a pass until I forced you to look at him clearly.”
Stung by the accusation, she turned her back on Decker and took several deep breaths.
“Once again, you are correct.”
“Give it a couple of generations,” Zack continued, “and you’ll have bred out the qualities that separate cannon fodder from soldiers who can think their way out of the worst crap. I have a couple of third generation silahdars in my company, and they’re by far the most arrogant and least capable of showing initiative. Food for thought, commander.”
“Perhaps we should breed you.” She gave him an appraising stare. “And collect some of those genes that make you so infuriatingly co
rrect.”
“It’s got nothing to do with my genes. I was the most useless, ungrateful little bastard when I grew up. The moment I turned eighteen, I joined the Corps just to spite my parents who were anti-military to the bone. Damn near didn’t make it through basic training because of my smart mouth and my adolescent belief that I knew better than anyone else. But the instructors figured out a way to get through the dumbass shell and turn my stupidity into Marine smarts.”
“And yet you climbed to the highest levels of your profession if I understand your Corps correctly.”
“Guys like Zack are pretty rare,” Resson said, “and no breeding program is going to give you a litter of them. You’d have to invent your own version of all the schools he’s been through and all the battles he’s fought. As he told you, the raw material wasn’t promising.”
“Then perhaps the Atabek needs to encourage slavers to find him more Marines,” she replied with a mischievous smile, knowing what the men’s reaction would be.
“Good luck.” Decker snorted. “I think I may have said this before, but setting up a mercenary outfit made up of free men and women, well paid and well treated, will get you better raw material than the slave market.”
Her retort died when the sound of thopter wings reached their ears.
“Our transport’s here. Make sure everyone is ready. I’d like to be able to dismiss the battalion before the evening meal is served.”
“As you command.”
*
“Since you’re no longer the armorer, where are we going to go for some after-hours fun?” Zack asked Lora Cyone as they walked out of the mess hall, replete and happy to be back on base after more than two months in the field.
“The new armorer’s not going to complain if I kick him out. I taught him everything he knows, including when to give his seniors some space.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed.
“Well done, my dear. Since I can’t make love to a cold beer, how about I make love to a warm battalion adjutant?”
“As long as you let me make love to a company commander, I’m good.”
Decker’s grin turned into an enthusiastic leer. Weeks without intimacy had brought its own share of frustrations on top of everything else.