Valor's Cost

by Kal Spriggs

  But we made it clear of town without that. I wasn’t all that happy, though, knowing I had to go right back into it. And somewhere in that mess, Lieutenant General Corgan’s team still planned to carry out some kind of attack.

  Loading up the next group, I talked with the company commanders, asking them to detail me some additional personnel to secure the trucks. They were headed to our secondary list of targets so I hoped they’d be able to spare the personnel. They didn’t argue, most of them tight-lipped as I briefed them on what we’d seen so far.

  I’d had my life at risk before. I’d had people try to kill me, yet as we came up to the edge of Nashik again, I found myself trembling. I didn’t want to go in. There was so much anger, so much chaos that it seemed to eat at my soul. But I didn’t tell Bellmore to stop or turn away so into Nashik we went.

  Strangely, it wasn’t as bad this time. The crowds mostly scattered when they saw us coming, though whether that was because they’d run into companies of cadets stationed at their sites or our earlier run-ins on the convoy, I didn’t know. Maybe it was just that word had gotten out to leave the Militia trucks alone. We pushed through, pausing at each location while trucks unloaded, staying in one group this time. It went more efficiently and staying in one big group was easy for me to keep track of all our vehicles. That was, right up until I caught a video feed of a pair of Militia trucks driving down the street alone, a dozen cadets in the back of each.

  “What the...” I bit off a curse as I focused my attention on that. What were those idiots doing? I checked their location against any of our key targets and I came up empty. They were driving towards one of the thickest parts of the crowd, a mix of rioters and people fleeing the city center on foot. They were only four or five blocks away from our convoy’s position, but they were moving at an angle and growing more distant as I watched.

  They were going to run right into the biggest mess and I brought up my communication software on my implant, trying to identify who the wayward cadets were. It didn’t make any sense, though. Most of the convoy was empty trucks and those two were full. The two trucks were smaller, open-back transports, too, and they didn’t even have the same Militia markings as ours...

  Nor, I saw after a moment, did they have Academy comm gear on them. Their comm units on their persons and on their vehicles didn’t even show up on the Militia network at all. It was like they weren’t there at all... only I could physically see them through various video feeds as they drove through town.

  I pulled up a traffic camera, zooming in on the faces of the driver and vehicle commander as they passed, capturing images of them and running a comparison through my implant. Both of them looked like Firsts, I noted. More disturbing, though, was that there weren’t matches for them in the Academy database. I didn’t have time or access to run them through the entire Planetary Militia network. I had the feeling they wouldn’t show up there, either.

  “Take a left,” I snapped to Bellmore, even as I gave orders to the rest of the convoy to continue onward. I wasn’t sure if the Academy communications network was secure, so I just sent to Cadet Lieutenant Commander Aguilera that I’d noticed something wrong and I needed to check it out. I hoped that the third movement of cadets could manage on their own.

  I brought up traffic feeds and overlaid the results onto a map, shunting it over to Bellmore.

  “Ma’am, what are we doing?” He asked, even as he made the first turn.

  “There’s something wrong,” I answered. “Two trucks, they look like Militia, but they’re not.”

  “What?” He asked in confusion.

  Uniforms... Lieutenant General Corgan hadn’t been talking about Enforcer uniforms, she’d been talking about Militia uniforms. The armed people in those two trucks, twenty four of them, wore Militia uniforms, carried Militia gear, but they weren’t Militia. They were Corgan’s people. They were going to the biggest crowd in the city, where they’d been driving people with gas grenade attacks that had funneled them into a compact mass...

  They’re going to fire on the crowd. The realization left me with an icy chill. That was Lieutenant General Corgan’s plan. His team was going to open fire on the crowd. They were going to kill as many people as possible and they were going to do it while dressed as Militia. Then Lieutenant General Corgan would arrest various government leaders for “crimes” they hadn’t done, and before anyone could really realize what was going on, Drakkus would show up with a fleet and take over in the confusion.

  It all fell into place in my head, even as we rounded another corner and hit a long, straight stretch. Other than a few burning businesses and overturned cars, the street was empty. “Floor it,” I snapped.

  Bellmore didn’t argue and the truck leapt forward, the big engine roaring. I brought up my team on my implant, speaking quickly, “We’re going after two Militia trucks, they’re three blocks ahead and two blocks over. We’re going to intercept them and stop them.”

  I’d searched what I could of how those two trucks were armed and what I’d seen didn’t look good. They were small, open-backed trucks, but the men and women in those trucks were well-equipped. All of them wore gas masks and they carried slung rifles, along with two crew served weapons, one on each truck. They were all armed with live ammunition. There were twenty-four of them, against me and my security team. They wore Militia-style body armor and, with the gas masks over their faces, there wasn’t much room for our training rounds to impact in areas that would matter. With the shelter of their trucks, only their arms and shoulders would be exposed to our fire... unless we went to our live ammo.

  “Switch to live ammo. Shoot to kill. These people are on the way to kill civilians. If we have the opportunity to take any of them prisoner, do it, otherwise, shoot to kill. They outnumber us and we can’t afford to let any of them get by us.”

  To their credit, none of them argued with me. I felt overwhelmed by that. They trusted me. No one argued as we accelerated down the street and Bellmore made the final turn. This was going to be close, we were coming up fast but if they got past us...

  I forwarded a message to the Admiral on what I saw and suspected and then started a live feed from my implant going, since I wasn’t going to have time to talk in the next few minutes.

  “Gun it!” I shouted to Bellmore. “Brace for impact!” I sent on my comm.

  The lead truck came into the intersection just as Bellmore put the accelerator to the floor. Our command truck, already barreling faster than the recommended max speed, lunged forward in a roar. I heard Reese and Tinney open up with their machine guns, raking both trucks as we revved forward.

  “Brace, brace, brace!” I screamed. I caught a brief impression of a startled face and wide, white eyes, and the cab of the smaller truck vanished under the hood of ours... and the world came apart in a roar of twisting metal, shattering glass, and gunfire.

  ***

  Chapter 23: That Worked Sort Of Like A Train Wreck

  I wasn’t sure if I’d lost consciousness or not as my eyes tried to focus. I’d lost track of at least some time, I knew that. There was a fire somewhere, flickering flames casting light across the splintered glass of the windshield.

  I still heard gunfire, both from the back of the command truck and from outside. Even as I realized that, Bellmore swore and shoved at me. My door had come ajar and I rolled out that way. A moment later, bullets cracked through the remaining glass of the windows and shredded the seats in the cab of the truck.

  That got me moving and I brought up my rifle as I moved around the front of the truck.

  The smaller truck we’d hit had crumpled like a crushed can, with most of it under the front of the command truck. The impact had thrown some of the passengers clear. Many of them lay twisted and broken, some of them thrown ten meters or more to slam into the faces of buildings. One of them was struggling to stand up, his rifle in his hands. I centered my sights on him and put three rounds through his center of mass.

  To the side, the se
cond truck had swerved to the side, the front windows shot out by my team. Several of the passengers had bailed out the back of it, though, and they were the ones shooting at us. I took cover behind the twisted frame of the crushed truck. On my implant, I called for support, even as I leveled my sights on one of the attackers and squeezed the trigger. He didn’t go down, so I fired three more rounds in quick succession. As that man tumbled, I caught motion on the other side and spun. A woman had circled around from the side, a rifle in her hands. I caught an impression of blue eyes and an expression of hate, then she vanished in a roar of gunfire as Bellmore cut her down.

  “Thanks!” I shouted, my ears ringing. I dialed down the sound on my helmet and focused back on the remaining attackers. There weren’t many of them left, because Tinney and Reese had been shooting at anything that moved with their weapons, firing in sustained, chattering bursts that blasted through cover and cut down the conspirators mercilessly. I saw a pair of the fake militiamen start running, either to escape or try and flank us. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t afford to let any of them get away. I put two rounds through the thinner back armor of one of them, and a burst of automatic gunfire from Reese dropped the other one.

  I scanned the area, but I didn’t see any further movement. “Status?” I called out.

  “Two up up,” Bellmore replied from next to me.

  “Three up,” Chu said.

  “Four, I’ve been shot, but Reese put a bandage on it,” Cadet Tinney reported.

  “He was shot twice,” Reese corrected, “but I think they’re both through and through. Five up.”

  I forwarded a request for medical support. “Bellmore,” I said, “come with me, we’ll sweep through.” I was already getting all kinds of request for information, both from Regimental Headquarters and the nearest Company Commander. The way they were asking, I could tell they thought I’d lost my mind, based on the reports I’d passed along.

  I needed to get things in hand, now. I had the feeling that as soon as someone in authority showed up, I had better have proof of my suspicions, especially since I’d just killed a bunch of people wearing Militia uniforms.

  Bellmore and I swept through the area, checking for any survivors. There were three or four wounded and we searched them, roughly, before dragging them over by the command vehicle. I counted the bodies and injured, pausing to check each of them for papers and any clues. All of them carried the strange black comm units, and two of those were still live.

  None of them had Militia ID’s. Their weapons were Staggar Arms M-11 rifles and MP-7 pistols, and I noted the serial numbers, even as I began a report.

  “Ma’am,” Bellmore said, looking a bit green as I searched a body. “Should we wait for... someone?”

  “I want to make sure that no evidence disappears,” I answered as I moved to the last body. This was the woman who’d flanked us, the one who’d nearly got the drop on me, if not for Bellmore. As I pulled out her comm unit, it squawked, “...report, what is your status?” I recognized Lieutenant General Corgan’s voice.

  I probably should have stayed quiet. But I was angry. People were dead, one of my cadets was injured, and Lieutenant General Corgan was the cause of that. She and Charterer Beckman had put together this plan, had planned to murder civilians and put the blame on the Militia, on my Militia.

  I brought the comm unit up to my mouth, “Your people are dead, General,” I said, my voice iron hard.

  “What? Who is this? This is a secure Enforcer communications channel--”

  “I killed them,” I snapped. “Before they could kill innocent civilians.”

  I waited for a response, but I wasn’t sure if the commandant of the Enforcers was still on the other end or not. I went on anyway, “I’ve got enough evidence here to nail you, and Charterer Beckman. You’re both going to go to jail for a long, long time.”

  “Who is this?” Lieutenant General Corgan asked, her voice breathless. “Look, we can work out a deal. You don’t understand what’s going on, what pressures we’re under. Tell me who you are and I promise you, we can make all this right. I can make you very rich. I can give you anything you want.”

  “Anything?” I asked.

  “Anything at all. I have the backing of Charterer Beckman. We’ve more support than you can imagine. Name your price,” Lieutenant General Corgan said, her voice adopting a smooth tone. “At least tell me who I’m talking to?” I wondered if the offer was legitimate or if she were just trying to figure out who to have killed. It didn’t matter.

  “My name,” I growled, “is Jiden Armstrong. I want my family back, but since that’s impossible, I want to take everything away from you, General.” I almost wondered if she’d hung up, but the comm unit display showed it was still connected. “Armstrong out.”

  ***

  It shouldn’t have surprised me that things escalated rather quickly after that. The first thing that happened was Sand Dragon Company’s Commander showed up and secured the site. He took down sworn statements from me and my team, and forwarded those up. About five minutes after that, a team of Enforcers arrived, with a warrant for my arrest, signed by Lieutenant General Corgan.

  I wasn’t able to see their faces behind their helmets, which was a shame as around a hundred rifles leveled on them. Cadet Commander Woods didn’t even let the Enforcer team leader finish talking before he ordered them to drop their weapons. Then he had his people secure the team of Enforcers.

  Things got stranger after that.

  The latest news on the riots were that most of the crowds had dispersed. The Enforcers seemed to have withdrawn, too, but most of them were milling in confusion, when they weren’t headed out of the city as quickly as they could. I’d actually watched forty of them rush to their vehicles and drive out of the city as fast as they could, headed towards Nashik’s spaceport. Of course, as soon as they got to the gates and found two Cadet Companies securing it, they didn’t seem to know what to do.

  I was seated next to the wrecked command truck, looking up at the sky while I ate a ration bar. That’s how I saw a fleet emerge from FTL warp in orbit over Century. I knew it was a fleet because it wasn’t one or two, or even a dozen flashes as ships arrived. It was a hundred or more synchronized. On my implant, I connected to the planetary network and I could see those ships. Some of them were massive, bigger than anything else that had ever made orbit over my planet.

  I recognized the form of a superdreadnought, as well as battlecruisers, cruisers, destroyers, carriers, and even troop transports. They arrived with arrogance, within the minimum safe distance from atmosphere, so close that some of their hulls flared as they brushed the outer layers of the atmosphere. An arrival like that wasn’t just dangerous in that they could have had a collision... it was an act of aggression that could be considered a declaration of war.

  They had their weapons systems online and their targeting sensors active. If their arrival hadn’t already been hostile, the method of it left no questions. Then, broadcast on all channels, a man appeared. He was a tall, lean-faced man, with cold dark eyes and pale, almost bleached skin. He most reminded me of a snake.

  “People of Century,” he announced, “I am Crown Prince Abrasax Vritra Drakkan, of the Drakkus Empire, Commander of Sword Fleet, and Lord of Oberon. I have come because some of your loyal citizens have reported that war crimes are ongoing on the surface of Century. My fleet and troops are here to resolve the issue and to assist your planet in resolving these serious allegations.”

  As he paused for breath, another broadcast went out, this one from Century Station. “Crown Prince Abrasax,” The Admiral smiled, “I am Admiral Armstrong of the Century Planetary Militia. I’m not sure what reports you might have heard, but I can assure you that the Century Planetary Militia has things well in hand. The people and government of Century do not need your assistance, however... gracious it is of you to offer it.”

  Crown Prince Abrasax’s narrow face hardened, “You’ll excuse me, Admiral, if I do not accept y
our assurance. I am prepared to order my troopships to land to protect the citizens of Nashik, who I understand have received terrible attacks, led by the Militia which you say has things well in hand. Do you dare to oppose that landing, I will order my warships to sweep your station and any ships you have in orbit from the skies.”

  My stomach sank as he spoke. It didn’t matter that we had stopped the attack. If he got those troop transports on the ground, he’d have hostages. He could manufacture whatever evidence he wanted. No one was going to oppose that strength.

  Then, even as I watched, dozens, hundreds... thousands of warp drives came online in orbit. Most of them were warp-fighters, but they surrounded the entire planet and, with the Drakkus Imperial Space Korps so close to the planet, they were pinned in. With their strategic warp drive on cooldown, they could only retreat in tactical drive and the Century Planetary Militia ships were poised to hit them from all sides at point-blank range.

  I realized right away that it would be at terrible cost. The ships from Drakkus were newer, tougher, better armed. Worse, this fight would be in low orbit, barely above Century’s atmosphere. Radiation from detonations would filter down to the planet’s surface. Our magnetosphere would probably be severely damaged, our ionosphere might well be blown clear. Fighting that close, we might well doom our entire planet.

  It would be a terrible, horrible cost. My heart rose in my throat and I almost sent to my grandmother that this wasn’t worth it, it was too high a price to bear.

  Crown Prince Abrasax spoke, though, before I could say anything. “I see. Perhaps I misunderstood the situation. My ships will power down their weapons, of course.”

  “And they’ll lower their warp drives,” The Admiral’s voice was harsh.

  Crown Prince Abrasax’s eyes bulged. “That would leave my ships defenseless! Worse, it is an embarrassment to the Empire of Drakkus!”

  “Your arrival here could be construed as an act of war, sir,” The Admiral’s voice could have sucked the heat out of the desert. “It would be in the rights of the laws of war for me to destroy your force utterly. If you lower your drives, I will send teams to verify that your weapons systems are locked down, and then I will provide a goodwill escort to ensure that you and your fleet safely return to Drakkus.”