A Hero

by Stephen Arseneault

  Once back at base, we filed our action reports. In an attempt to placate the few survivors of Bigguns, Command promoted me to gunnery sergeant with Hayden and Sheila each making staff sergeant. I had to argue to keep Hayden in my platoon. Art Mayhew received a promotion to corporal.

  With our company of Marines dead, command transferred us to a new regiment. The doctors gave Arthur Mayhew a complete evaluation, deeming him to be in good health. Our new CO assigned him to my squad.

  Art was four years older than me and was always bragging about his two boys. At first I was annoyed, consumed with my own loss, but the more he talked of his family the more I wanted to hear. I found myself taking his stories and relating them to Denise and Pea. It felt good to actually care about family, if only through a proxy.

  Our next assignment was to take back Exeter. The recon reports stated the Togmal were building large structures on the surface. Speculations as to what it was ranged from a ship factory to a processing plant where humans were being converted to food. There had been no officially reported human-consumption incidents, but that didn't stop the media from spreading rumors.

  We had just come from a briefing. Command was sending our regiment in to find out what the Togmal were doing. We would be assisted by a hefty fleet, making certain the ten companies of our regiment would make it to the ground. I wondered why there was no mention of extraction when the mission was to be complete. My experience at Richland showed me just how much our military command cared about protecting Marines or civilians.

  Sheila and Hayden walked beside me.

  Sheila scowled. "You would think they would send in drones to do the recon."

  I shook my head. "Drones are expensive. From what we've seen in these first few battles, unreliable. Aarlis Corporation makes those. I heard some senators started demanding the corporation pay back all its profits."

  "It's doubtful any of those senators will get reelected next term. They've messed up this whole war. Rusty knives, drones that don't work, ships that are slow, and a command structure that can't seem to decide anything without first consulting political members of the Union." She spat. "Just turn us loose and we'll kick their scaly asses back to wherever they came from."

  Hayden raised an eyebrow. "Might want to keep your voice down. These halls are their territory. You set one off with the wrong comment and we'll be sent to Richland."

  Sheila elevated the right side of her upper lip in disgust. "That didn't even qualify as a bad joke."

  Hayden countered. "You used to be fun. What's gotten in your craw of late?"

  "What? This war. It sucks. Everything about it is beyond reason. Why are they here? We haven't even figured that out yet. And we've taken captives. Do we no longer know how to interrogate people?"

  Hayden chuckled. "I wouldn't call them people."

  "They're sentient. They would understand interrogation."

  "Maybe they don't crack," I said.

  Hayden huffed. "Are you kidding? Have you not noticed how they whine like a baby when in pain? They aren't any different in that regard than we are."

  I glanced over at Art as we walked. "You're awfully quiet. You have no position in this fight?"

  "I can't decide if I want to take part." Art looked at Sheila and then Hayden. "You two used to date? Or were you in some kind of relationship? I'd rather not get in the middle of that."

  I wasn't certain why, but the assumption hit me as beyond funny. I turned to the side as a slight giggle turned into a gut-busting howl. Tears flowed from my eyes. Sheila and Hayden both looked irritated. It took several minutes before I could walk without cracking up further.

  Art shrugged. "Never knew I was so funny."

  Sheila said, "You aren't. Gunny just has a screw loose today."

  Hayden nodded. "And just to set the record straight. No relationship. Ever. Just friendly banter going back and forth."

  Sheila agreed. "Yeah, friendly banter. I say something funny, he says something stupid."

  Hayden gave a single nod. "Banter, just like that."

  The new campaign comprised sixteen hundred infantry fighters of the 1st Marine Division, 7th Regiment, the Magnificent 7th as they called us. They dropped us on Exeter near the Togmal structure designated as Site-3. A fierce air war had allowed our transports to hit the ground just before dawn.

  I walked down the line, checking on the Marines in my platoons. All were ready and eager to take on the enemy. As a final check, I had every Marine pull the power cell on their rifle and test it for charge. Three of the thirty cells came back as defective, only holding a 20 percent charge. Supply issued new cells which the recipients slapped into place just as the transports touched down.

  The side ramp opened, and our platoons poured out. Instead of getting into formation just outside the ship, I had convinced our new lieutenant to take our platoons a half-kilometer to a treeline. As we reached the trees, a Togmal gunship came out of nowhere, firing into the formation the others had made. Some Marines returned small arms fire, while others scrambled to find cover, and still, others ran back onto the transport.

  The Togmal showed those who chose the transport why it was a bad move. Heavy cannon rounds set the entire ship ablaze before two of our gunships chased the Togmal vessel away. Again, we had lost half our company before the real fighting began. Our new lieutenant stood with his mouth agape.

  I said, "Sir, we have to move. We have targets to recon and destroy."

  The lieutenant was trying his comm. "I can't reach the captain. He's not responding."

  "Sir. We have our orders. The captain is gone."

  "But what of the wounded?"

  "We're fighters, Lieutenant. You can send our medic, but the rest of us need to focus on the mission, sir. We have a two-kilometer jog to the Site-3 complex. We have to get moving, sir."

  The lieutenant stood frozen for several seconds more, before turning toward our target, leading us in a steady jog.

  "Gunny, how is it you remain so calm?"

  "I keep my shaking on the inside, sir. All of us do. Focus on what's ahead and not what has happened."

  Sheila cut in. "And it doesn't get any easier, sir. Every situation is different. We just have to adapt and keep trying to do the job they sent us to do. Unless you have plenty of spare time to review the mistakes we made, focus on the mission, don't look back."

  We jogged through uneven wooded terrain to Site-3. It was situated on a hill with steep sides. When we reached its base, we began our climb. The lieutenant stayed in the group's middle. Sergeants Roth and Getz led the way. I brought up the rear with Corporal Mayhew as we maintained a constant check of our backside.

  Our first encounter with Togmal fighters was near the hilltop. Three warriors had taken a position beside an entryway. The impact explosions and whumps of plasma rounds firing told me the fight was on. Our platoons moved like a flood bursting from the trees. We eliminated the three fighters in only a few seconds. By the time I emerged from the trees behind them, the first platoon had gone through the door.

  Mayhew said, "That seemed too easy."

  I opened a comm. "Roth. Getz. Hold up."

  I switched channels to command. "This is Jackson with Echo and Gamma platoons. We have reached the target and are entering the building. Resistance has so far been light."

  "This is Major Farthing. Where is Lieutenant Boggs?"

  "Here with us, sir."

  "Why are you not in formation? Your company has reconfigured and is preparing to move forward."

  I rolled my eyes at the reply. "Sorry, sir, but we are already at the target. Should we proceed further or wait for Captain Gallatin?"

  "I'm afraid we lost the captain at the landing. Lieutenant Gable is in charge on the ground now. I'll let the lieutenant know to hold position until you can rejoin."

  I stood in disbelief for several seconds. "We are already inside, sir. The north entrance is open."

  The major returned an angered reply. "This is chaos. Sergeant Jackson. Pu
t the lieutenant on the horn."

  "Sir, Lieutenant Boggs here. We have taken the north entrance and are awaiting further instruction."

  "Who told you to march ahead, Lieutenant?"

  "The mission orders, sir. We are to take this facility, determine its use, and then destroy it. We are in the door, Major. Should we hold for the others or push forward?"

  Hayden and Sheila came up beside us. "What's the holdup?"

  I shook my head. "The other units are still forming up at the landing site."

  Sheila scowled. "What? We hit the dirt twenty minutes ago. Why aren’t they moving?"

  "Confusion. Inexperience." I turned to the lieutenant. "Sir, we can't go back. We do that and we lose what we've gained. Convince the major we must move forward. The other platoons should be on the way. The door is open."

  Boggs took control. "Major Farthing, we have secured the north entrance. Lieutenant Gable should advance with the rest of the company to this site, sir. We will hold this position until their arrival."

  After several minutes of arguing, the major relented. Lieutenant Gable and the rest of the outfit would be told to head our way. The comms closed.

  I asked, "When was your last training mission, Lieutenant?"

  "Three years ago. We stormed a simulated warehouse. We took it."

  "No live training, sir?"

  "Not since boot camp, Gunny. Which is why I'm listening to your expertise. You may not have been in the Marines for as long as I have, but you are one of the few who have seen repeated action."

  It was the first time I felt as though we might have already lost the war with the Togmal. Our leadership was incompetent. Our equipment was in disrepair, so cheaply made it often wouldn't function. Politicians were making the tactical decisions. I feared for all humanity.

  Sheila snapped me out of my funk. "Gunny, we should at least secure this entryway."

  I nodded. "Make it so, Sergeant."

  Sheila hurried away. Her voice echoed through the halls as she yelled at one of her squads.

  Hayden chuckled. "She loves giving orders."

  The other platoons arrived forty minutes later. Once inside, we fanned out, taking the entire complex. We caught hundreds of unarmed Togmal workers as they fled to a southern exit. It didn't take long for us to discover the site's purpose. It was a parts factory. The parts were for ship construction and repair. At another site on Exeter, the buildings were being used to manufacture plasma rifles. And at still another... gunships.

  The entire operation was over in only a day, in spite of the initial resistance we encountered with the gunship. The colony had been poorly guarded. We gathered the data and destroyed the buildings. A transport landed and the Togmal captives were shipped off for interrogation. The Exeter Colony was back under our control.

  — Chapter 26 —

  * * *

  Upon return to our base, I received a comm from TC. He was interested in how I was doing and in how the war was being prosecuted. I gave my honest opinion.

  "It's just all wrong, TC. The equipment fails when you need to use it, or doesn't work at all. Our commanders are more politicians than warriors. The Togmal are going to roll over us if they come in with an equal size force. I don't see us having a winning strategy. We could though. But everything so far is a reaction."

  "I've been discussing the same with my father. He says politicians are running the show and those with military minds are being pushed aside in bids for power. All of these politicians are so eager for campaign donations that open-ended, generous contracts are being laid at our feet. The Aarlis Corporation will make its biggest profits ever in the coming quarter."

  "Any more incidents at the mines?"

  TC smiled. "Everything there is working as it should be. We've reopened Shaft One and the ores are practically pouring out. Your recommended repairs to the shaft structures have been sound. Thank you again for finding those issues.

  "You would be happy to know that morale is at its highest level ever. My father took a step back and gave me the authority to make decisions on my own. I've empowered my employees to have a voice in how things are done, and the response has been an across-the-board increase in productivity. Many of those common sense practices we learned in our business classes are now in use.

  "I've been pushing to have my father adopt the same, but he is stubborn and continues to manage with a heavy hand. He insists his actions are all part of a larger plan, but I have yet to see what that might be." TC leaned into the camera. "And know we are working to remedy the military leadership deficiency, Ray."

  "How so?"

  "My father has a contract to evaluate leadership quality. Our military may be in for some drastic shakeups when that report comes out."

  "He'll be recommending who gets kicked and who gets promoted?" I asked with a bit of skepticism.

  "He will. And don't worry, after this last raid, you should be getting an order to attend OCS."

  "What? I have no desire to be an officer."

  "You are a born leader, Ray. Your stellar battle record only confirms that."

  "Battle record? I've only been in for just under two years. I've barely stayed alive."

  TC waved a finger. "No. No. I've been keeping tabs. You are making decisions that keep yourself and your team members alive while accomplishing your mission."

  "You call losing an entire town at Richland an accomplishment?"

  "I read the reports, Ray. You did as much as they could expect from any commander, even though you were not the commander."

  "The four thousand colonists there died, TC. Only four of our entire company made it out. I'd hardly call that a win."

  "Again, given the circumstances, you did the best possible."

  I sat back in the chair I was occupying. "You want to help with the war effort? How about seeing to it our equipment is top-notch and make sure it works. For instance, out of any crate of power cells for our rifles, a dozen of those cells will be defective. We can't have defective. Defective means dead."

  TC nodded as his face showed concern. "I hadn't realized that."

  I growled. "And most of that bad equipment has your father's name stamped on it."

  "I will take the issue up with him directly. We're trying to do our part, Ray. The politicians are making those efforts difficult. As with most things, our hands are contractually tied. Allowed deviations from those contracts are rare.

  "Before you say we should write better contracts, keep in mind those terms were negotiated after a long period of peace. Instead of a focus on quality, there are employment quotas, environmental concerns, local taxes, and a plethora of other hindrances that prevent us from producing the best product. If you took the politics out, production and quality would soar."

  "Whatever the issue, the system is broken. The Union is not ready to fight this war, TC. People are dying needlessly. It's almost like sending a headless dog out to hunt down a fleeing criminal. It can't see, hear, or smell. What chance is there of success?"

  "An interesting analogy seeing as how canines are no longer used for tracking."

  "They are, just not often. Regardless, we're losing this war, TC. And I have the distinct feeling things are about to get worse."

  "More recruits are entering the service. More ships will come online. But I agree. We're in danger. At least in the near term. Change comes slow to an elected government, Ray. But according to my father, change is coming."

  Another two months passed. We waited for command to put an assault force together for a raid on Richland. Our recon reports showed the Togmal were building structures there too. If we allowed them to get a solid foothold in our territories, it would make our efforts all the more difficult.

  During the wait, I had several more discussions with TC about the state of affairs. It gave me an outlet for some of my rage. While I still held him somewhat responsible for the death of my wife and daughter, he was becoming useful for supplies. Our regiment became one of the best supplied outfits
in the entire Marine force. For that I was thankful.

  When command gave the order to prepare for Richland, our company boarded a transport with two hundred of the skink missiles in supply. Supporting us would be the largest human assault fleet ever assembled in one place. Over ninety warships and one hundred ten support vessels, including transports, sat in the heavens above Haven, waiting for the order to move.

  The ride to Richland took six days. Our support fleet sat at a safe distance, awaiting word of a breakthrough by our warships. That breakthrough never materialized. Instead we got word of a horrific loss. Thirty-two of our finest fighting ships would never come home. Another thirty-six had taken massive damage.

  With no fleet support at Richland, command ordered our transport to return to the base on Haven. We had just stepped off the ramp onto the ground when we got news of Merchain. A fierce fight for dominance of that colony was taking place. Command ordered us back aboard for immediate deployment. An hour later, we were beginning the four-day trip.

  Upon arrival at Merchain, the Togmal attackers had fled, but not before inflicting damage. One of the two ore-processing facilities being run by Estelle Goodall was in ruins. Thousands of workers were dead. The nearby City of Panthea still had hundreds of fires burning. It was another epic blow to our egos and to our military. The news-feeds were chastising our military command and the politicians who commanded them.

  As a personal favor, TC sent me on a mission to check on his sister, Estelle. She was alive, but had given him and their father little to no other information. Or at least if she had shared with Aarlis he had not passed the information along to TC.

  I was met at her offices by a pair of armed guards.

  One opened a comm after hearing my request. "Ms. Goodall. We have a man here who says he was sent by your brother. A Gunnery Sergeant Ray Jackson?"

  Estelle sighed. "Send him up."

  The guard walked to an elevator and allowed a camera to do a scan. The elevator opened. The guard gestured for me to step inside. He gave the command for the eighth floor, and the door closed. The elevator surged, reaching the level in only seconds.