Book Description
Five short novels by five masters of military science fiction.
NO SURRENDER
The best action-packed military science fiction—FIVE BY FIVE showcases work by bestselling, award-winning authors: Five novellas covering battlefields across the galaxy. It’s a war out there!
LEGIO PATRIA NOSTRA—by William C. Dietz. An interstellar war is raging, the insectoid Ramanthians have occupied Earth, and the Confederacy of Sentient Beings needs assistance from the xenophobic Hudathans in order to survive. But some Hudathan relics have been stolen, and the Hudathans won't join the Confederacy unless Legion Captain Deacon Smith can get them back. And that's going to be difficult because the thieves are ex-legionnaires—and they have a platoon of heavily armed cyborgs! A Legion of the Damned® story.
PRISONER OF WAR—by Kevin J. Anderson. Set in the world of Harlan Ellison’s classic Outer Limits episode “Soldier,” this is a tale about a set of warriors in a never-ending future war, men bred for nothing but the battleground—and how they cope with the horrors of…peace.
REARDON’S LAW—by Brad R. Torgersen. When expensive, classified shipments of military hardware go missing, Conflux Armed Forces policewoman Kalliope Reardon is called in to work the case. She gets way more than she bargained for, as the trail takes her far outside the boundaries of the civilized galaxy, and into the heart of occupied enemy territory.
DAGGER TEAM SEVEN—by R.M. Meluch. The evidence is clear and damning—A.C. Cade was a fraud. Cade’s son makes himself into the man he used to believe his father was—a pilot of an elite Dagger Team, defending Earth against a desperate alien invader which has no use for humankind and absolutely nothing to lose.
COFFEE-BLACK SEA—by Aaron Allston. The saga of the Dollgangers from “Big Plush” (Five by Five Vol. 1) continues. Bow, BeeBee, Lina, and new ’gangers escalate the risks of their quest for survival...by turning their eyes to the stars.
No Surrender
Edited by Kevin J. Anderson
Legio Patria Nosta by William C. Dietz
Prisoner of War by Kevin J. Anderson
Reardon’s Law by Brad R. Torgersen
Dagger Team Seven by R.M. Meluch
Coffee Black Sea by Aaron M. Allston
Five by Five 2: No Surrender
Copyright © 2013 WordFire, Inc.
Legio Patria Nosta
William C. Dietz
Copyright © 2013 by William C. Dietz
Prisoner of War
Copyright © 2000 by WordFire, Inc.,
First published in Outer Limits: Armageddon Dreams,
Edited by Kevin J. Anderson, BSV Publishing, 2000
Reardon’s Law
Copyright © 2013 by Brad R. Torgersen
Dagger Team Seven
Copyright © 2013 by R.M. Meluch
Coffee Black Sea
Copyright © 2013 by Aaron Allston
Five by Five concept created by Loren L. Coleman
Kindle Edition - August 2013
WordFire Press
www.wordfire.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright holder, except where permitted by law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
ISBN: 978-1-61475-070-3
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Contents
Book Description
Title Page
Legio Patria Nostra (The Legion is Our Country)
Prisoner of War
Reardon’s Law
Dagger Team Seven
Coffee Black Sea
Legio Patria Nostra
(The Legion is Our Country)
A Legion of the Damned® story
by William C. Dietz
Chapter One
War makes thieves and peace hangs them.
George Herbert
Standard year circa 1620
The moon HE24-6743
If the moon had a name, it was a Hudathan name, since the satellite was orbiting a world that the Hudathans laid claim to. But, like everything else in the sector of space sandwiched between the Hudathan Empire and the Confederacy of Sentient Beings, the moon was open to attack.
Legion Captain Damien Chozick was strapped into a chair located aft of the control well in which the ship's captain, pilot, and navigator were seated. And, as the thirty-year-old destroyer escort Mohawk crept even closer to the moon, all eyes were on the wrap-around screen in front of them. One side of the Hudathan base was obscured by dark shadows, while the other was brightly lit. Craters pitted the surface of the moon and some were filled with what Chozick assumed to be junk. Crawler tracks ran between them.
The purpose of the mission was to pound the moon base into submission, land, and gather intelligence. Then Chozick and his legionnaires were supposed to destroy key components of the facility on their way out. A hit-and-run operation of the sort that they had carried out many times in the past. Except that something was wrong. The ridgeheads weren't shooting at the Mohawk, but they should have been. Why not? Were the Hudathans incompetent? Never. What did that leave then? A trap? That made sense. The aliens were waiting for the Mohawk to get closer, and, once she did, the bastards would open fire.
The DE was only a couple of hundred feet off the surface and creeping along. A docking tower loomed up ahead. It was at least three hundred feet tall and, in spite of its flimsy appearance, capable of servicing two ships at a time. That was because each vessel would weigh only a fraction of what it would on an Earth normal planet. One landing cradle was empty but a Hudathan transport was cradled in the other. It was surrounded by a complicated tracery of robotic machinery, some of which was connected to the ship.
That was strange. The freighter should be making a run for it. And the trap, if there was one, should have been sprung by then. As the DE coasted toward the base, the ship's sensors probed the surrounding area for any signs of life. The technician's voice was tight but calm. "Scanning... Scanning... Scanning... There are patches of heat but all of them are static so far. The only sign of electromechanical activity is an automated docking system that is broadcasting in Hudathan.”
Lieutenant Commander Angie Dickerson was the Mohawk's commanding officer. And like the ship herself, had been called out of retirement to fill a slot that should belong to someone twenty years younger. Her white hair was worn in a crew cut, her eyes were like chips of turquoise, and she had the no-nonsense manner of an officer who had seen most everything. "Alright Captain Chozick... This would be a good time to join your company. I suggest that you secure the Hudathan ship before going down to inspect the rest of the base. If the freighter blows, and takes the Mohawk with it, you'll have a long walk home.”
The odds that the ridgeheads would blow up a ship and toast a docking tower to destroy the Mohawk were pretty slim, but it paid to be cautious. Chozick said, "Roger that," as he freed himself from the six-po
int harness and stood. The DE's argrav generator was on, so it was a simple matter to make his way down the main corridor to a sealed hatch. Once it cycled open he entered a second passageway. It led to another hatch and the sign that read, "UNPRESSURIZED COMPARTMENT”. Racks of equipment were located on both sides of the entryway.
While at battle stations, all of the ship's crew members were required to wear skintight counter-pressure suits and keep their helmets close at hand. Chozick was no exception. So all he had to do to get ready was secure his brain bucket to the suit's neck ring and put on a combat rig with integral air supply. After running a series of tests to make sure that everything was operating properly, he entered the lock.
Once the air had been removed, hatch two opened into a cargo compartment that could be used for a wide variety of missions, including the transportation of ground troops. In this case, Bravo Company, 2nd Battalion of the 4th Regiment. Bravo Company was an infantry outfit to which a platoon of cavalry had been attached to give it some extra heft. And that was potentially important when battling aliens who stood eight-feet-tall and weighed three to four hundred pounds.
Had Chozick been a different sort of officer, and had his company been comprised of the usual mix of ex-criminals, misfits and adventurers for which the Legion was known, someone might have shouted, "Atten-hut!” But Chozick had gone to considerable lengths to recruit only the most venal soldiers into his outfit. So his arrival was greeted with remarks like, "There he is", "Here we go", and "Listen up".
Most of the legionnaires were bio bods, but some ten-foot-tall cyborgs were present as well, and could be seen toward the back of the hold. "Okay, we're about to dock, so grab something solid," Chozick advised them. "And keep your eyes peeled once we're clear of the ship. The Hudathans should be shooting at us by now, but they aren't, so something strange is going on.
"The 1st platoon will remain here and guard the Mohawk. Once we get outside you'll see that a Hudathan ship is berthed side-by-side with this one. The 2nd platoon will enter and secure it. As that's taking place, the 3rd will make its way down to the surface and await further orders. Remember, there isn't much gravity out there, so if you jump up off the ground it will be a long time before you come down. If you come down. So follow the low grav protocols they taught you in basic."
Chozick's comments were interrupted as Dickerson's voice was heard in their helmets. "Standby for docking in five, four, three, two, one.” The last digit was followed by a heavy impact as the Mohawk settled onto the cradle formed by four skeletal arms. One bio bod landed on his ass. That provoked gales of laughter from the others along with lots of snide remarks.
"Last, but not least," Chozick said, "it is our patriotic duty to liberate any valuables that the ridgeheads left laying around. But remember, all for one, and one for all. Anyone who tries to short the team will wind up on the KIA list. Do you copy?"
There had been three such deaths during the last ten missions, and all of the legionnaires were aware of it. So there was no response other than silence. Chozick nodded. "Good... Put your helmets on, seal 'em, and standby.
A light flashed two minutes later and the legionnaires heard a warning tone as Chozick led them into a huge lock. Once the door closed behind them an antibacterial mist fogged the lock. The moment the decontamination sequence was complete, Chozick led them across a ramp to the walkway that paralleled the ship. He went first because that was his inclination and because the men, women, and cyborgs under his command expected him to take the same chances they did. That was part of the unwritten contract that bound them together. The planet Krang hung over them. Most of the visible surface was tan, but the poles were white, and patches of blue could be seen through holes in the cloud cover.
The ramp bounced slightly as Chozick slip-slid forward, weapon at the ready. Now, he thought to himself. Now they'll spring the trap. But nothing happened as he led the 1st platoon across a connecting causeway to the alien ship. It was small and capable of landing on a planetary surface. The hull was aerodynamically smooth, but somewhat bulky, not unlike the whales in Earth's oceans.
After arriving on the cradle that supported the freighter, Chozick turned left and made his way to the point where an open hatch gave access to a large Hudathan-sized lock. Chozick waved a demolitions team forward. Then he turned to discover that the company's new Field Intelligence Robot was standing a couple of feet away. The name "Orson" was stenciled across the android's chest, but everybody referred to it as "Shithead."
Was the robot what it purported to be? An intelligence gathering device conceived by some fat-assed staff officer? Or was it somebody's effort to spy on him? Chozick didn't know or care because Shithead's life expectancy was less than two hours long.
There was a verbal warning followed by a soundless explosion, a flash of light, and a sudden trash storm as air rushed out of the compartment just beyond the lock. That should piss the ridgeheads off, but there was no response as Chozick checked the heads-up display (HUD) projected on the inside surface of his visor.
A variety of information was available to him; including a line diagram of where he was in relation to the Mohawk, POV shots for every person in the company, and more. At the moment, he wanted to ensure that his helmet cam was functioning properly so he would have footage for the battalion's Intel officer to look at. Not because he cared, but because it was necessary to look like he cared, and Shithead wasn't going to make it back. Fortunately the helmet cam was in good working order so that, plus footage from the rest of the legionnaires, it would give the chair warriors something to do.
The lighting was dim inside the ship--but not so dim that Chozick couldn't recognize the dead body for what it was. Or had been. Because the sudden loss of pressure within the ship had done horrible things to what had been a Hudathan. "He died of natural causes," Shithead observed, as it knelt next to the pile of raw meat. The robot's hands were steady as they took a tissue sample.
"How do you know that?" Chozick demanded.
"He wasn't wearing a pressure suit," the robot replied. "And, based on that, I think it's safe to assume that the rest of the crew died of natural causes as well. A highly communicable disease would explain it."
That was a breathtaking leap in Chozick's opinion, but one that seemed to be born-out as the legionnaires pushed deeper into the ship, and came across more bodies. Plus the robot's theory explained why none of the aliens were clad in pressure suits and didn't try to defend their ship. As for the base, well, time would tell.
Form follows function, or so the saying goes, so, even though Hudathan minds had been responsible for designing the, ship it bore similarities to Human vessels. Two main corridors ran parallel to each other. Passageways connected the corridors together and provided access to various compartments. The legionnaires didn't have enough time to investigate each nook and cranny. But when they saw something that might have some value they were quick to grab it. So it wasn't long before Chozick spotted bio bods carrying enormous back swords, bulky sidearms, and all manner of alien knickknacks. Would the loot slow them down in an emergency? Of course it would--but that was one of the tradeoffs Chozick had to accept in order to have the type of company he wanted. The kind that was going to put some serious money in his pockets one day. Chozick's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dickerson's voice in his helmet. "This the Captain... Give me a sitrep. Over."
Chozick told her about the bodies and passed Shithead's analysis off as his own. "Okay," Dickerson said. "An epidemic would explain it. But remember that some survivors could be holed up somewhere--and a Hudathan ship could arrive at any moment. Should that occur the Mohawk would be easy meat for them. So finish the job as quickly as you can. Over."
Chozick wanted to say, "Get over yourself, bitch," but didn't. He acknowledged the order by chinning his mike two times, instead.
The next transmission was from First Sergeant Kobo. An especially brutal noncom who liked to punctuate his orders with a swift kick in the ass. "Got somethi
ng, boss. I think you should take a look."
A straight up company commander would have insisted that Kobo use proper radio protocol but that was the sort of thing that Chozick's people resented. The officer was in the control room at that point. Two Hudathans were present but both were dead. "Yeah? Where are you?"
"In the hold."
"On my way.” Chozick turned and saw that Shithead was seated in front of a terminal. Downloading data? That's the way it looked. Not that it mattered. "Take me to the hold," Chozick ordered.
Shithead had never been to the hold, but didn't hesitate. "Yes, sir." Chozick followed the android down a corridor and into a side passageway. It led to a lift. Once inside, Shithead chose one of five oversized buttons. That was when Chozick realized something he should have noticed before. The robot could read Hudathan! And, given its function, that made sense.
The elevator came to a stop, the door slid open, and Shithead stepped out. Chozick followed it down a corridor, past what might have been an engineering space, and through a lock. Kobo and a couple of bio bods were waiting in the compartment beyond. The noncom was big and looked bigger with the helmet on his head and the life support package on his back. Chozick nodded to him. "Whatcha got?"
"There's a bunch of boxes in the hold," Kobo answered, "but only one of them has a transparent lid. And it's located in the middle of the compartment, all special like."
Special treatment could be an indication of something valuable. Chozick nodded. "Show me."
Kobo led the officer back to the point where a large box sat resting on a couple of stands. Two lights were focused on the container which might be a further sign of its importance. Chozick stepped up to the container and looked down through the transparent duraplast. The first thing he saw was a skeleton, a Hudathan skeleton, with a long staff lying next to it. Chozick frowned. "You brought me down here to look at a dead Hudathan?"
No Surrender Page 1
