“Milstratt, kindly shut up,” Yusafft said with sudden weariness, his excitement having worn off and leaving him drained. “I am not interested in your lies. I am ashamed to be Ruhar. These aliens,” he waved a hand at Perkins and Jarrett, “saved thousands of lives, Ruhar lives. This is how you-”
“Oh please,” Milstratt could no longer conceal his disdain for everyone in the room. “There were around forty thousand people on those transports, that these aliens supposedly saved from being blown up by a Kristang commando team on Gehtanu. Do you know how many of our people die every day just from falling down stairs? Forty thousand lives is a rounding error in our population. Glabosor, directly or indirectly, employs over three million people, our people. Yusafft, the alien is right about something; no one wants this Alien Legion to succeed. If you take their side, you will be alone. There is no profit in this for you. They have no evidence,” he declared with confidence. “Only the word of a frightened little former company officer,” he added with a withering glare at Lorfo.
Yusafft placed his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers in a gesture he intended to make him seem thoughtful, but looked like play-acting. “You propose that I ignore everything I have heard here today?”
“Commissioner,” Milstratt replied softly. He had the fish on the hook, now he needed to carefully reel him in. “The mission here is over. With the loss of the equipment at the supply dumps, Glabosor cannot fulfill the contract, and you know the government doesn’t want this planet badly enough to throw another round of funding at the effort. The Legion is outnumbered on the ground and our fleet is outgunned in space. We are going to lose this world, Sir. Your best option is to cut our losses now, negotiate a withdrawal with the Kristang before more people get killed for nothing. You have that authority.”
“What you say makes sense,” Yusafft nodded gravely, and the usual oily smile returned to Milstratt’s face. “However, I am not going to do that.”
“Commissioner, I can assure you-”
“Shut up. Mister Milstratt, I am aware of what everyone thinks of me. That I am a slow-witted fool, that I attained this position only through family connections, that I was assigned here because I can be controlled. I can’t be controlled by you. Colonel Perkins, you said you knew about a clear and present danger to my forces on this world. I agree. As I stated, this planet is under martial law. Milstratt, I find you guilty of treason and conspiring with the enemy. Guards,” Yusafft stood abruptly, angrily. “The sentence for treason in a war zone is death. Take Milstratt outside and shoot him right here,” he jabbed a finger between his own eyes hard enough to leave a red mark under the light fur.
The smug smile left the chief counsel’s face. “You can’t do that!”
“You are a legal expert,” it was the Commissioner’s turn to feel smug. “You know that I can. Guards, remove-”
“I’ll talk!” Milstratt offered the plea deal of his life, for his own life. “I will sign whatever documents you want,” his eyes rapidly darted between the Commissioner and Lorfo, wondering exactly what Lorfo had said and how much he could afford to reveal. He only needed to survive until the mess on Feznako was sorted out, calculating that any statement he made under duress would be denied by Glabosor’s legal team. There was a way out of the mess for-
“You will confess your role in this crime, in this treason,” Yusafft agreed. “Then I will decide-”
The floor shook and fine dust rained down from the ceiling.
“What is happening?” Yusafft asked his military aides anxiously
The Navy advisor placed a hand to one ear, listening intently. “The base is under attack. We just intercepted nine cruise missiles. One almost penetrated our perimeter.”
“Ah,” Yusafft giggled with relief. “A distraction. Well, if the enemy-”
“It was not a distraction, Commissioner,” the advisor corrected. “The enemy tied up our defenses while they inserted by air.”
Yusafft was bewildered. “Inserted what?”
“A ground assault team. Three teams. We are in substantial danger.”
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Ross stopped Perkins in the hallway as they joined the scramble to respond to the attack. He was leaning on a crutch and his face was ghostly white. The man should not have been out of bed in his condition. “Colonel-”
She held her hands up. “Sir, I said that ‘hell’ so you would know I was willing to throw my career away for-”
“We can discuss that later. Right now, we need to secure this base.” He slumped, and she needed to grab under his arm to steady him. “The Kristang know that they don’t need to defeat the Legion, because the decision-makers on this planet are the Ruhar. If the lizards capture the Commissioner, it is game over for us.”
The situation was even worse than it first appeared. The enemy barrage had consisted of not nine but thirteen cruise missiles, plus three or four decoys for each real weapon. All missiles were intercepted and destroyed before they could get close enough to launch deadly antipersonnel submunitions at the Legion base huddled near the cargo Launcher. But tracking and destroying those missiles had consumed the capacity of the Legion air defenses, allowing not three but five ground assault teams to be landed. The aircraft that delivered those teams paid a heavy price for tweaking the nose of Legion air defenses, with only four out of fifteen transports escaping. Two transports, their pilots either seeking suicidal glory or figuring they were dead anyway, flew toward the Legion base after dropping off their assault teams. The burning wreckage of both transports acted as a beacon for the assault teams behind them.
With thirty or more troops packed into each of fifteen transports, the Kristang had four hundred seventy armor-clad warriors to throw into the assault. Having portable stealth generators to conceal them, they were difficult to find. With drones to act as decoys, and to locate, engage and delay the Legion’s response, the Kristang made steady progress toward their objectives. Their target was not the Legion base at the Launcher control complex. Their targets were the outlying air defense installations. Each installation was guarded by a garrison of Legion soldiers, but with typically four to six Verd-kris soldiers per air defense unit, they were easy prey for the concentrated fire of the Kristang. The Legion understood their air defense units were vulnerable to ground attack, and rushed reinforcements to those areas, but in too many cases they were too late. Gaps appeared in the air defense network. The gaps were too scattered to create a safe-fly corridor for the Kristang to bring in more aircraft, but missiles began sneaking in through the gaps, programmed as hunter-killers to seek out Legion ground forces. Airbursts killed Legion troops with shrapnel, before they could engage the Kristang.
Of course, the Kristang teams were also being steadily ground down by Legion counterattacks, whether by missiles, drones, light artillery or direct assault. The Kristang did not need to win the battle, not immediately. With Legion air defenses tied up, they were bringing in fresh troops to the fight, dropping them at the perimeter. Those troops had a longer distance to travel, but there were over a thousand of them, running fast through the equatorial jungle in powered armor.
Crump. Perkins did not even flinch when the ground shook and more fine dust rained down on the tablet she was working on. Picking up a static-free rag, she wiped the tablet screen free of dust and kept working. They had just lost contact with another air defense station, probably it had fallen victim to artillery because the defenders had not reported contact with enemy ground forces.
“Ma’am,” Shauna called to get Perkins’s attention. “If we lose two more anti-air projectors in that area, it will open a corridor for the enemy to-”
“I see it. Jarrett, direct AA missile teams to the area.”
Shauna frowned as she typed the commands. Ground teams carrying man-portable anti-air missiles were no substitute for a real, networked, multi-layered air defense capability. “Should they attempt to plug the gap?” She asked skeptically.
“No. They can’t,
and we would just waste their lives for nothing. At this rate, we are going to lose more AA stations in that area, and the lizards will be able to sneak in stealth aircraft. Bring them to within twenty-five kilometers of the Launcher. Tell the missile teams to go quiet and hold fire, until they detect enemy transports.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Shauna turned her attention back to her console, a tight smile replacing her frown. The lizards would send aircraft in through their newly-created safe-fly corridor, only to discover it was not safe at all. “That will only buy us some time, Ma’am. We thinned out our defenses around the base to reinforce the air defense stations. If the Kristang make a push here, they could break through.”
“I know, Sergeant. Working on it,” she replied. “Trying to work on it,” she muttered to herself.
“They are losing the battle at Legion Headquarters,” Jates observed, looking over Dave’s shoulder. “While we sit here, huddling in a hole like rats.”
Dave knew the Verd-kris soldier had not said the word ‘rats’, that was the translator’s interpretation. But he got the message. “Between you, me and the commando team, there are what? Forty-five, maybe fifty troops here? You’ve got a busted knee, and three of the commandos are down for the count.”
“I can walk,” Jates insisted.
“Hey, Surgun,” Dave knew how badly the alien’s knee had been twisted when he fell over the cliff and the Tiger nearly rolled onto him. “You don’t have to prove how tough you-”
Jates gritted his teeth. “Fuck that,” he said and Dave heard that clearly without a translation. “It’s not a matter of willpower, Czajka.” He balanced on his injured leg, then hopped. With the splint around his knee augmenting and stabilizing his own tissues, he leapt up to touch the ceiling of the cavern, four meters above their heads. “The doctors patched me up. With a skinsuit, I can run fast as your flabby ass.”
“My ass is not- Whatever. Ok, so you’re combat effective, if we get you into a skinsuit. That leaves us with-”
“Two of the injured commandos are also provisionally cleared to return to duty,” Jates insisted. “That gives us forty-seven and a half soldiers.”
Dave cocked his head, the gears in his head turning. “How do you get half a soldier?”
“That half is you,” Jates pinched Dave’s shoulder muscle between finger and thumb. “Squishy human.”
“Hey! That lizard I killed was plenty squishy on the inside,” Dave pointed out. “Give me a skinsuit, and we can go mano a mano if you like, lizard-breath.”
“Man, to, man?” Jates repeated the translation slowly. “I do not mean to offend, Czajka, but I like women. So if you want man to man action, you can-”
“That’s not what I- Oh, I hate this translator.” Dave’s face turned red. “Look, all this talk about going into action is nice happy horseshit, but we need a plan. Like, a target. Then we need a ‘Go’ order from HQ.”
“What sort of plan would you propose?”
“Well, shit,” Dave scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know. Yes, I do. We are totally outmanned and outgunned down here, and we’re not getting any useful close-space support, right? There are too many lizards out there for us to kill by ourselves.” In the first phase of the battle, the Kristang had armed local civilian males and used them as militia. The militia was poorly trained, lacked discipline and their actions were uncoordinated, but they tied up Legion combat power, and occasionally got lucky. Since the ceasefire ended, reports warned the Kristang had learned from the earlier fighting and adjusted their tactics. They were now using civilians as cannon fodder, throwing armed male and unarmed females into the fight ahead of their own warriors. The Kristang reasoned correctly that the Verd-kris, seeing Kristang females being herded toward them carrying nothing more dangerous than sharpened sticks and knives, would hesitate to fire on the civilians. The Kristang were correct. Many Verd-kris units fell back after contact, to avoid being forced to slaughter innocent females. It was a cowardly, loathesome and effective tactic, and it hit the morale of the Verd-kris more than it affected their combat capability.
“There are a prodigious amount of lizards,” Jates agreed. “You are bothered by a target-rich environment?”
“I am bothered by having so many lizards to shoot at, we can’t possibly kill them all.”
“The math is indeed against us.” Jates squeezed the edge of the table and peered down at Dave. “How do you propose to change the math?”
“Easy,” Dave breathed and slumped in the chair. “We get those hateful lizards to kill each other. What I don’t know is how to do that,” he grimaced.
“I do.” Jates pulled a tablet off an adjacent table and slapped it down in front of Dave. “We have a plan. The commando team has been planning a strike on Swift Arrow clan leadership, but the Legion has said ‘no’ every time the operation is proposed.”
Dave snatched up the tablet. “Let me see that.” He began reading. “If this plan is so good,” he asked slowly while taking in the information. “Why did it get shot down?”
“Because,” Jates looked hesitant for the first time since Dave had known him. “Despite our bravado, my people’s leaders here on Feznako are under orders to prioritize not losing over winning.”
“Uh, say again?”
“This is the first test for us Verd-kris, in many hundreds of years,” the Surgun’s expression was pained. “I am ashamed to say that our leadership has calculated that politically, we can afford to not win this battle, because the terms were set by our patrons the Ruhar. If we make a good effort but do not win, that is understandable, and does not reflect badly on the fighting capability or honor of the Verd-kris. We can be defeated here,” he stomped his good leg on the ground, “and live to fight another day. But if we take a risk, and lose a fight,” he shrugged. “That’s on us.”
“Whoa. Whoa,” Dave stood up. “You telling me all this talk about how tough and eager for action you Verds are, is all just a steaming pile of bullshit? You bunch of pussies are scared of a stand-up fight?”
“No.” To Dave’s surprise, the Surgun did not punch him in the face for the grave insult. Instead, he stared at his feet in shame. “Do not confuse the warriors who landed here, with our political leaders who are safe back on our home worlds. We wish to fight, to fight honorably.”
“Ok,” Dave felt deflated, like he had been cheated out of giving someone a good ass-chewing. “I understand.”
“Our political leaders may be correct, in the long term,” Jates admitted, still not looking up to meet Dave’s eyes.
“They may be correct,” Dave shot back hotly. “That doesn’t make it right.”
Jates was silent, his head only made the slightest of up and down motions. A nod of agreement.
“Ok,” Dave sat back down and considered the tablet. The plan was for a strike on the local Swift Arrow clan leadership at their secret reserve compound, to throw that clan into chaos. With their local senior leaders dead, the various junior leaders would prioritize fighting for control of the clan, over fighting the Legion. Other clans and subclans would see the temporary power vacuum at the top of the Swift Arrows as a weakness, and shift their focus to exploit that weakness. The disarray might only be temporary, but it would give the Legion valuable time to consolidate and go on the offensive. “I like this plan,” he tossed the tablet away. Truly, he had only skimmed over the summary. The details were a problem for the Verd commando force anyway. “It doesn’t matter what I think if the Verd leaders won’t, or can’t, put this plan into action.”
“That is not true,” Jates took the tablet back and used it to pull up a map. “Look where we are. And where the target is.”
“Uh,” Dave struggled to understand the Surgun’s meaning. “We are, uh,” the various lines and shaded areas on the map were confusing and probably outdated.
The details on the map didn’t mean anything. They didn’t have any significance to-
A lightbulb went on in his head.
The li
nes on the map didn’t mean anything, except for one line. The line that defined the zones of responsibility within the Legion. “Damn. We are in the UNEF zone right here.”
“Correct.”
“What is a Verd-kris commando unit doing in-”
“That is not important. What is important is that this unit is currently within the human zone of responsibility, under human command. The target is also within the UNEF zone.”
“Hell, then, we don’t need permission from the Verd leadership.”
“Again, that is technically correct. It may only be technically correct. My leadership may take issue with UNEF assuming command of these troops.”
“Surgun,” Dave leaned back in the chair. “One thing I have learned in the military is, it’s better to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission.” He pulled out his zPhone and checked it was connected to the secure, jamming-resistant network of the commando base.
“What are you doing?”
“We are in luck,” Dave winked as he pressed the icon at the top of his Favorites contact list. “I happen to know someone who can make this happen.”
When Dave Czajka called the first time, Perkins ignored it despite her aching to hear from him. The second time he called, he used a private code they had set up between the two of them, a code that meant it was a true emergency. She took the call, speaking slowly and clearly over the static of enemy jamming. “Dave, how are-”
“We’re fine here. Holding. Reports say you’re not.”
“We’re-” She was about to say they were also holding, which was technically true. If she could not speak her mind to Dave Czajka, she was not free to talk with anyone. “We’re not doing well here. The lizards are going to overrun us within a day, maybe two. There is just too many of them.”
Deathtrap Page 38
