He drew out a simple knife from his webbing and slashed the restraints, causing him to drop off violently from the seat. He winced in pain as he hit the floor, but his hearing was returning, and he knew he had to get in the fight. He reached for his rifle in the rack where he’d left it. A quick check found it was still intact and serviceable. He got to the opening that was still smouldering from the explosion. All three wheels on the side of the vehicle had been blown off in the blast, and so the vehicle was flat on the desert floor, at least on his side. He peered out cautiously through the breach, leading with his rifle.
A visceral cry rang out behind as he looked one way. A Prian was charging at him with a Firanwar. All that distinguished them from the Rhepoys was their clothing. Loose black and white flowing attire separated them from the fitted colour tunics of those who fought for the Empire. He swung his rifle around and got a single shot off as his attacker reached the muzzle. It fizzled and flashed as a burst of energy surged out from it, striking the Prian square in the chest, and he collapsed dead at his feet.
He had no time to celebrate his victory, for a gunshot struck the hull of his vehicle. There were muzzle flashes further up the side of the canyon where skirmishers were dug in and laying down fire.
“Sergeant!”
He ducked down low and looked for the source of the shout. He spotted Naider Sandu ushering him back into the cover of some rocks beside the other Otter. Another shot struck the vehicle beside him. Their attackers were terrible shots, but two more landed at his feet, and it was a matter of time before one of those shots found him. He leapt into action and darted towards Sandu as more gunfire landed around him, and the Naider returned fire to cover him as best he could. He felt the heat of one shot pass closely by his cheek. He slid into cover but was surprised to find no one else there besides the Naider.
“Where are the others?” Stone asked furiously.
Sandu pointed to his vehicle where many were huddled down taking cover. They didn’t look eager to fight.
“What are they doing? Why haven’t you engaged the enemy? Identify a target and close on it until they are defeated, that is your training!”
“Sorry, Sergeant, but they will not go,” said Sandu apologetically.
“What do you mean, won’t?”
He looked back at them and could see they had no stomach for the fight at all. Yet he knew they were a warlike people, a planet of warriors. He peered around to the enemy position high in the canyon and took one shot. It didn’t find its mark, but he got a good look at where they were. As he ducked back into cover, he knew he was not going to inspire anyone from there. He shot bolt upright, his head appearing above the cover of the rocks.
“Sergeant, you must stay down,” insisted Sandu with genuine care and concern in his voice.
Stone ignored him and did the very opposite, striding out into the open. A shot landed two metres away from his feet, but he didn’t flinch. He’d got his composure back now. He’d been disorientated and stunned from the explosion. His head was still pounding, but he was as angry with those flinching in cover as he was at the enemy firing at him. He stopped in the open next to them as shots still landed all around. Several glanced off the armour of the Otter.
“On your feet, now!”
They were frozen; not scared, but unwilling to play any part in the fight. Sandu was desperately returning fire to try and give him cover.
“Sergeant, please take cover!”
He took another shot. It was well aimed and killed one attacker outright, striking him in the face as he was taking aim. Stone wasn’t getting anywhere and was losing his temper. He lifted his rifle and pointed it directly at the nearest cowering Rhepoy.
“Get up and do your job, or I’ll kill you myself,” he snarled.
The alien looked into his eyes and could see there was no doubt he intended to go through with it.
“Get up and fight, you worthless scum. Get up!” He kicked one of them.
There was a shrieking cry from the other side of the vehicle. An enemy rushed into view with a sword held high ready to deal a deadly blow against the Rhepoy Stone was aiming at. He lifted his muzzle and fired off a single shot. The swordsman collapsed dead on to the Rhepoy, who shrugged him off before looking up at the Sergeant.
“Fight!” Stone yelled.
More cries from the enemy rang out, and it was clear to the Rhepoys that they had to fight or die where they were. They rose up just in time as three of the enemy raced into view. One had an old rifle and got a shot off at point-blank range, killing one of Sandu’s fireteam immediately. But the rest of them soon returned fire and cut down their attackers with a volley. Their Edgeland rifles knocked down their attackers with authority in a way the Sergeant’s Aquilla never could, but they took two seconds to recharge between shots.
Stone pushed his way through the disgruntled Rhepoys and led by example, charging forward directly at the enemy. His Aquilla was held at the hip as he took the bend around the Otter and came face-to-face with another Prian. He fired, but the shot struck off centre as he’d not even aimed, and the light round was not enough to stop his attacker continuing forward. Stone flicked a selector switch beside the trigger, and his rifle extended a little longer. The muzzle fizzled with energy as it turned into an electrified spear. He thrust forward at his wounded opponent’s chest, yet he nimbly parried it away and kept coming. Stone was no stranger to the brutality of close quarters combat. As the tip of his weapon fell, he rotated the stock forward and stepped into his opponent’s attack, smashing him in the face with the butt of the rifle, which had a steel-capped stock made just for that purpose.
It was a brutal two-handed blow, and the wounded Prian’s head was snapped aside as he fell to the ground. He didn’t give him a chance to recover and brought the muzzle back around, driving the blade into his body where he lay. He drew it back out, satisfied to have vanquished his opponent, but found himself facing another Prian holding an old rifle in his hands. A Sezail, locally produced primitive firearms, they weren’t much for accuracy or rate of fire, but packed a punch if they landed.
He was in the enemy’s sights and at point-blank range. In the split second he had to think about it, it seemed inevitable he was going to take a hit. He began to lift his Aquilla, knowing there was no chance of getting the drop on his opponent. He had to hope for a miracle. A shot rang out and hit his opponent, but it had not come from his weapon. The Prian’s weapon lowered as energy was sapped from him from the wound, and it was followed by a Firanwar blade chopping into his skull, stopping at his nose. Dark red blood oozed out from the gaping wound. So dark it was almost as black as oil.
The blade was wrenched out from the head as the body dropped, revealing the one wielding it. It was Sandu, who’d circled around the front of the Otter. Stone nodded to him appreciatively as he looked back at the Rhepoys.
“You see that? That’s how a Prian fights! Follow me!”
He ran up the slope, safe in the knowledge he would have at least one other in support. Urged on by Sandu’s actions, the rest followed excitedly. They were keen fighters, just not eager to fight this battle until now.
Stone hunkered down low as one shot skimmed the top of his helmet. He kept on running, firing as he went, but it was nothing more than suppressing fire, and he had little chance of hitting the dug-in shooters. He covered the ground in no time at all, and well ahead of the others when he came around a large rock formation where the enemy were sheltering. The first turned his crude rifle about and tried to swing it at him, but he cast it aside with his own, thrusting his Aquilla into the enemy’s throat. Like the others he wore no uniform, only the dusty robes all of their people wore.
Two others drew their blades and ran towards him. He took aim and fired at one, lowering his weapon ready to fight the next as they rapidly closed the distance, but another four came around the corner to join them. As they were about to clash, a volley of fire rang out at his back, and two were killed, a third wounded. A w
ar cry echoed around him as the Rhepoys charged past him with Sandu at their head, his sword held high. They waded in brutally. The wounded soldier was killed instantly, while Sandu took on the other. He was as skilled as he was brave with the blade, as he cut back and forth. His fourth cut removed his opponent’s hand at the wrist, and it was quickly followed with a heavy slash across the collar. Finally, all fell silent, until the Rhepoys began to scream and shout in jubilation of their victory.
Sandu was smiling back at him enthusiastically. He was glad to have made it through, but less than impressed with those serving under him.
Chapter 2
“Come!”
King looked half asleep, having waited a long time to see the Commanding Officer. He tried to remain enthusiastic, but he suspected he had a lot of hard work ahead of him. He stepped into the officer of the Lieutenant Colonel.
“Lieutenant King, reporting for duty, Sir.” He snapped to attention and saluted.
The Colonel looked relaxed and easy going, but with a confidence and professionalism to the way he held himself. His tunic was almost as faded as the captain he saw when he first arrived. King handed over his papers. The Colonel took them, gave a cursory glance, and slipped them into a drawer in his desk.
“First time on Rhamprox?”
He sounds friendly.
“Yes, Sir.”
“First time off-world?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smiled. King was expecting to be ridiculed for his lack of experience, but what came next surprised him.
“Fresh faces are just what we need. Like a lot of worlds way beyond the inner worlds, things work a little differently out here. Simpler, harder. Not all the rules apply, but there’s opportunity for a young officer willing and able to put the work in. Do good work out here, and you could have big things in your future. I’m Colonel Rossman, and I’m in charge of this region. It’s a lot of land, and we don’t have a lot of manpower to cover it. Most of our troops are locally recruited, as you have likely already seen. All officers and administrative staff are Alliance regulars, as well as senior NCOs to keep things in check. Tell me, did you choose this posting, or not?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Why?”
“I joined up to see and experience the universe, Sir.”
“Do you see yourself as an explorer or a tourist?”
“I am whatever you need be to be, Sir.”
Rossman smiled and rested back in his chair.
“You think kiss ass is what I want here?”
“Sir…” he fumbled.
“I get it, this is your first real posting, and you’re eager to please. But you won’t do that with words. You’ll do it with actions. The Prians are unpredictable, but the one thing they respect is strength. When you’re out there as an officer in this regiment, you need to command their respect.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ve looked through your file. You’ve got an exemplary record and show a lot of potential. And yet, I read that your cousin has shown a very different side. Is there any of him in you?”
“Sir, no, Sir.”
“Good. I don’t have time for bullshit. We have a job to do, and if we do it right, it can be smooth sailing much of the time. Not that you can do much of that in this hotbox.” He got up and walked to the single window looking out beyond the town, “Rhamprox is a beautiful place. Beautiful in a stark, primitive, and visceral way, but don’t underestimate her. On the central planets we grow used to an easy and safe life. But out here, nature takes its course. It doesn’t care who or what you are. There may come a day when the surface is covered in towers and industry and bustling with all things manmade. But not in my lifetime, and I hope not in yours either.”
“Sir, if I may ask?”
“If you are to serve under me, we have to trust one another. So long as you respect my command, you may ask whatever you like.”
“Sir, I’d just like to know why…” he tailed off, hesitating to ask his question.
“Why I took this job?”
“Yes, Sir. You’ve got quite the record. Could you not have chosen anywhere?”
“Not quite, but I sure didn’t need to come here, but I wanted to. There’s something comforting about the simple life on the frontier, away from the bustle of the city. A thousand aerial vehicles zipping overhead, news drones, and projection commercials, that’s not for me. Like you, I signed up to see more of the universe, not just for the uniform and pay.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The Colonel went over to the far side of his office and punched a security code into a small display. He pulled open the strong door of a rifle cabinet built into the wall. It was more a small armoury, filled with various weapons. He reached in and pulled out what looked like a simple steel baton, half a metre long. He placed his thumb up along the grip and activated a hidden pressure switch. It expanded out around his hand, almost fully encasing it. The entire device extended to almost double its original length, and the round baton like frame flattened to an acute edge. It was impressive in how it deployed from such a small article, and yet in reality it was nothing more than a sword.
“You are familiar with these, yes?”
“The Regulation Spit, Sir? Yes, we received training with them at the Academy.”
“A matter of procedure. Many in the service believe they have no place in soldiering anymore. They are fools. If every mission went the way it was planned, they’d be right, but no officer who served beyond a desk ever believes that is possible. The M12 Guardian, a tool that was already old school when I was your age. Every officer under my command is to carry them at all times, and I mean, all times. Rhamprox is an unpredictable place at the best of times. Be ready at all times, no matter what you are doing.”
He moved his thumb away, the Guardian retracted, and reformed as a simple steel pole. The Colonel handed it to him, along with a belt for it to hang from. King couldn’t help but feel it was ancient kit not even his grandfather would have used, and yet he didn’t dare question it. He took both items from the Colonel, who waited for him to attach them to his gear, which he promptly did.
“Now, the platoon you will be taking command of has been without an officer for a while. Getting replacements isn’t easy. Not a lot of young officers seek service out here, and those with experience are usually attracted to more respected positions elsewhere whenever they can. They’ve been at the charge of Sergeant Stone. A veteran with more knowledge and experience than you can imagine. He is at present out with one of your squads. We lost communication with an outpost, and Stone has gone to investigate. He should be back soon. In the meantime, I suggest you get to know the rest of 2nd Platoon. I’m sure the Academy prepared you for many things, but commanding Rhepoys is something else. Earn their respect, and you will command one hell of a fighting force.” He then pointed to a map of the facility, “We are here. Officers’ quarters, mess, your platoon barracks are here, any questions?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then good luck, Lieutenant, and welcome to the 43rd Native Infantry.”
“Thank you, Sir.” He saluted and left, stopping to take a deep breath when he had a moment to himself. He’d been looking forward to this for months, but now he felt terrified as the responsibility finally fell on his shoulders. He took a deep breath and headed out of the building. He reached the outer door, and as it opened was hit by the heat once again. The air-conditioned headquarters had allowed him to forget what it was like. He looked up at the sky, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight, only a haze. It was stifling. He sighed at how extreme the conditions were, but he looked down and noticed the look he was getting from several of the guards. He was an outsider to them and was not doing his best to give a good impression. He stopped squinting as best he could, lifted himself to carry more authority and confidence, and strode on towards the barracks.
Wheeled vehicles were parked along the road. They were primitive compared to what he was used to. He knew that before he a
rrived, yet it was no less alien to him. For a town and military facility it was remarkably peaceful. It felt more like some old sleepy town he’d read about in the history of the frontier lands of his own world, but like nothing he’d ever seen before. It was quite novel, and he liked it, and was starting to understand what the Colonel meant. There was beauty in the barren quiet nature of it.
He took a bend to find three Rhepoys walking casually along with their weapons at the shoulder. They could have been his platoon, but he wouldn’t know it. They smiled as they drew near, as if they knew him.
“Jamiya,” each said almost in perfect sequence as they saluted him.
He nodded back in respect and appreciation. He knew what the term meant. It was a sign of respect, and roughly translated to lord or master, but in a respectful manner.
He was surprised that these Prians looked jovial, and nothing like the serious demeanour of those he’d seen marching out earlier. He wondered if he was wrong about them.
Maybe it was because they were on duty and took their work seriously?
It was then he realised he knew so little about those he was going to command. He thought he’d covered all he needed to know, and now understood he knew only a fraction. A little further and he finally reached the barracks. Two rectangular barrack blocks were marked to his platoon. They were the same used all over, effectively shipping containers for low cost accommodation. They didn’t even have windows, just a new facia and door to replace the wide access they once had. In the open space before the barracks four Rhepoys were practicing with their iconic and much loved Firanwars.
They wore no protection and were stripped to the waist. Their bodies were wiry, yet muscular and strong. Two had deep scars from sword wounds, and all had lesser marks and old healed wounds. One was bleeding from a fresh wound. They were swinging at one another as if they really meant it, and no one appeared to be in charge. It was as if they were practicing for the sheer fun of it. As King looked back up at the scorching sky, he wondered how they could do it. He felt almost ready to pass out, and sick from the rapid dehydration he was experiencing. He tried to hide it, but he knew he needed to acclimatize quickly, if that was even possible.
Marine- The Last Empire Page 2