Abyss Of Savagery

by Toby Neighbors

  “Are they trustworthy?” Esma asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Dean said. “But they know the stakes. They tried to escape and failed. They’re a hair’s breadth away from being shot in the head, so they really have nothing left to lose. We aren’t threatening their species—just the two we have in custody. There’s no reason not to cooperate at this stage.”

  “They should let Sergeant Tallgrass go to Chavez,” Esma said. “I can’t imagine not being able to see you if you were wounded.”

  “I can’t imagine knowing I was responsible for having shot you,” Dean replied. “Self-forgiveness is often the hardest.”

  “Yes, but my mother always said love overcomes a multitude of sins. She was usually talking about my father and justifying why she stayed with him after he hurt her over and over again, but maybe she knew something we don’t know.”

  “Something I hope you never have to learn,” Dean said with a smile.

  “It seems strange, doesn’t it?” she went on. “We’re flying through outer space, moving faster than the speed of light, straight toward an enemy we know next to nothing about—yet here we are, strolling along as if it’s all the most natural thing in the world.”

  “We have to hold on to the little things,” Dean said. “The normal things are what keep us grounded when we have to do such big, important, sometimes terrifying things like face an unknown enemy with no backup. I learned that in OTA when I was the only Recon ensign on the base and had practically no friends. Captain Parker told me to seek out what I needed in order to make it through the hardships, and I made friends with the chief petty officer in charge of the kitchens. The talks we had in between classes and combat training kept me sane. These stolen moments with you are getting me through this mission.”

  “You are so sweet, Dean,” Esma said. “It’s hard to remember that you’re really a war hero.”

  “I’m no hero.”

  “That Planetary Medal of Honor says you are,” she argued. “And I know from personal experience. You’ve saved my life more than once. That makes you a hero in my book.”

  “Yours is the book I care about,” Dean said. “How are things coming along with the remote piloting efforts?”

  “Slow,” she said with a frown, “so slow. The controls on the tug vessels aren’t that different from those on the gravity drive in the nest, and they’re pretty intuitive once you think like a creature with wings. But the electronics are completely different, so tapping into them isn’t a good option.”

  “You need something to operate the manual controls?”

  “Either that or a lot of talented people are going to have to fly the tugs, which means a lot of good people will die. It’s just not an option.”

  “You don’t think the tugs could fly to the Kroll ships, fire off the nukes, and then fly back?” Dean asked.

  “No, it’s not that simple. There are no missile tubes in the Kroll ships. Firing them means punching them through the hull. Even if our evac suits could survive the sudden loss of atmo and the propellant of the missiles, we still couldn’t get to a minimum safe distance before the nuke detonated. We can’t take the chance of using a timed detonation; the Kroll might find a way to stop it and neutralize the weapons.”

  “Well, don’t give up,” Dean said. “You’ll find a way.”

  “I thought four weeks in transit was going to be difficult,” she said. “But the truth is, I’m afraid we won’t have enough time.”

  “I have faith in you,” Dean said as they strolled past a large boulder.

  He was amazed at the megaliths that were inside the Kroll ship. They looked and felt exactly like stones, yet he couldn’t fathom how they had been moved onto the ship. His awe shifted suddenly into surprise and then into anger as Captain Grant and his Staff Sergeant Furoke suddenly appeared on the far side of the huge boulder.

  “What have we here? A couple of love birds, from the looks of things,” Grant said.

  “Do you need something, Captain?” Dean demanded.

  “I need a lot of things,” Grant replied, his voice sounding hollow from the speakers of his battle armor. “I get the sense that maybe this little honey does, too. What’s the matter, sweetheart? Is he just not satisfying all your needs?”

  “That’s enough,” Dean growled, his anger causing him to shake with rage. “Report to my office in one hour. We will settle our differences once and for all.”

  “Enjoy giving orders while you can, Blaze,” Grant said, stepping so close his TCU was almost touching Dean’s. “I’ve had all the crybaby bullshit I’m going to take from you.”

  Dean wanted to counter the brash captain, but he was so angry that he didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, trembling with rage and using every last bit of his strength to keep from fighting the arrogant Recon Captain on the spot. He knew that if he did, Furoke would intervene, or worse yet, hurt Esma. Dean couldn’t deal with both men at once without using his weapons, and while he would have enjoyed nothing more than seeing Grant blasted into bloody ribbons, he couldn’t deal with a subordinate by using lethal force.

  “Just be there. Bring your entire platoon,” Dean finally managed.

  “You try and take my command, I’ll end you,” Grant threatened. “You don’t have the support to remove me.”

  “I don’t need support, you blowhard. This is between you and me.”

  “Big words from a poster boy, Blaze. You better hope you can back them up when it counts.”

  Grant and Furoke moved on, but Dean didn’t take his eyes off the two belligerent warriors.

  “Dean, what are you going to do?” Esma asked. “I’ve never seen an officer act like that.”

  “He’s jealous that I was promoted over him. I’ve seen plenty of Recon officers who didn’t want to take orders from me.”

  “But why? What’s he got against you?”

  “He’s a climber,” Dean said. “All he cares about is advancing his career. I’m not sure whether he’s more angry that I got the promotion or the command of the mission.”

  “Doesn’t he realize there isn’t an EsDef for us to go back to?” Esma asked. “Even if we succeed, we’ll be court-martialed the minute we return.”

  “Maybe that’s why he’s fighting me so hard,” Dean said. “If he can wrest control of the mission from me, he can argue that he did all he could to bring the task force back home to comply with the new brass and their pacifist desires.”

  “Surely not,” Esma said. “He has to see the necessity of the mission, right?”

  “I don’t know,” Dean confessed. “I think if Grant believes turning the ships around and going home will further his career, he wouldn’t hesitate to do it.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “The only thing I can do,” Dean said. “I can’t remove him from command the way he deserves—his platoon would revolt and we’d be forced to fight them.”

  “On the ship?” Esma asked, clearly struggling to believe the suggestion that two Recon platoons might start a battle in a vessel traveling faster than the speed of light.

  “That’s right,” Dean said. “And locking him up is probably his backup plan anyway. That way, when we get back home he can argue that he was removed from command because he was arguing for the task force to return to Earth, and the renegades—that’s us—locked him up for his loyalty to the new brass.”

  “Good God,” Esma said. “What option does that leave you?”

  “I have to bring him into submission,” Dean said.

  “How?”

  “The only way he’ll understand,” Dean replied. “Force.”

  “You’re going to fight his whole platoon?”

  “No, not the platoon. Just Grant.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Esma said. “What if he hurts you? You’ve got an injured arm, after all.”

  “That’s a chance I’ve got to take,” Dean said. “My arm is fine. One way or another, Grant has to be put in his place.”


  “I’m scared,” Esma said.

  “I know, but you have to trust me on this one,” he tried to assure her. “I wouldn’t do this if there were any other way.”

  “I’ve never heard of two officers fighting it out. It can’t be the only option.”

  “Under different circumstances, it wouldn’t be,” Dean admitted. “But we’re on the most important mission of our lives, light-years from the nearest EsDef station. I can’t just send him away or request a hearing to resolve the issue.”

  “What about the admirals? Surely he would obey if they ordered him to stand down.”

  “I can’t have other people fight my battles,” Dean said. “The only thing that Grant will understand is force.”

  Chapter 31

  “I need a Second,” Dean said. “Normally, I would ask Chavez to stand with me.”

  “You’re going to fight Captain Grant? Dean, that is out of the question,” Parker said.

  “You have a better idea?”

  “Remove him from command,” she replied. “Throw his arrogant ass in the brig and be done with him.”

  “You know that wouldn’t do anything but escalate matters,” Dean replied. “Who would take over his platoon? Staff Sergeant Furoke is Grant’s closest ally. The two of them probably already have a plan for the Raptors to break Grant free and start a mutiny.”

  “So remove them both,” Parker said. “I’ll take command of that platoon.”

  “No one could do a better job—but think about that plan of action for a moment, Vanessa. We have no idea how many of Grant’s specialists are in favor of him taking command of the mission. You’ll get a knife in your back the minute you let your guard down.”

  “And you think a straight-up pissing match is the better option?”

  “I think they aren’t expecting it,” Dean said. “I think if I can make Grant submit in front of his platoon, they’ll see that he isn’t strong enough to back up his threats. Grant either gets in line or gets removed from command—but only after he’s lost his position.”

  “And if he kicks your ass?” Parker asked. “What then?”

  “That isn’t going to happen.”

  “I taught you better than that, Dean. Anything can happen in a fight.”

  “Yes you did, and I understand what’s at stake. Grant is fighting for pride, but I’m fighting for my life. I won’t lose.”

  “And how do you plan to explain this lunacy to the admirals?”

  “I’m not going to,” Dean said. “I’m the CO, and this is a Force Recon matter. It will end with Grant’s submission, and that will be that.”

  “You’re the craziest platoon leader I’ve ever met,” Parker exclaimed. “I knew there was something different about you when we first met. Colonel Davis shared the reports from your missions with me. He had his eye on you after you captured the Urgglatta ship. The brass were shitting bricks when Admiral Hamilton reported that you wouldn’t destroy the ship. They bought her lies hook, line, and sinker—never even considering that the Recon Officer on the alien ship might know what he was doing. That was a tense few hours at Grooms Lake, I can promise you that. Everyone was worried except Andy. Somehow, he knew you were going to do the impossible and find a way to stop that ship. After that, we discussed your missions in detail. He marveled at your tactics on Rome Three and couldn’t stop talking about how you saved the entire operation. He had designs to groom you to take over Force Recon. Said you were the most gifted tactician he’d ever seen. I don’t know what he’d think of you fighting another Recon Officer in the middle of a mission, but for all we know you are leading the last Off World Force Recon platoons in the service, and if this is how you want to play it, I’ve got your back.”

  “Thank you,” Dean said.

  “Just don’t lose,” she warned him.

  Dean honestly couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Colonel Davis, head of OWFR and one of the joint chiefs of the Extra Solar Defense Force, had admired him. It was almost too much for Dean to take. There were tears in his eyes as he looked away and brought up a schematic of the alien ship on his console. He needed a holding cell that wasn’t being used and that hadn’t been cleaned yet. The cells had all been numbered, starting with Dean’s communications center.

  “Holding cell eighteen,” Dean said. “Get down there and make sure the enlisted crew hasn’t cleaned the glass yet.”

  “What about the rest of the platoon?” Parker asked.

  “They’ll be busy,” Dean said.

  “You better bring a couple people, just so Grant doesn’t order his people to take us out while he has us outnumbered.”

  “Good point,” Dean said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  As Parker left the comms center, Dean felt a lump of dread forming in his stomach. Fighting Captain Grant would be satisfying in many ways, but in reality he couldn’t simply let his frustrations go; he had to be ready for anything. There was no chance that Grant would fight fair, and while Dean wanted to beat the man soundly, he didn’t want to injure him. Grant would have no qualms about injuring Dean—or killing him, for that matter. Dean was initiating the fight, which meant that Grant could do as he pleased with no fear of consequences for striking a superior officer.

  Dean activated the platoon channel on his TCU comlink and summoned Ghost and Adkins to his office. It took the two men less than three minutes to appear in the doorway. Dean filled them in on his plans and once again defended his idea. He knew that both men would step in for him without hesitation, but that wasn’t what the situation called for. Rather, what Dean needed was a show of solidarity and force.

  “Don’t smile, don’t look concerned, and don’t speak. No matter what Grant says or does, you are there to represent the platoon,” Dean said. “We are sending a message that the four of us are equal to Grant’s entire platoon.”

  “I still don’t like it,” Ghost said.

  “You don’t have to like it,” Dean said. “Hell, I don’t like it. But it has to be done.”

  “Seems like there should be another way,” Adkins said. “You outrank him.”

  “Rank is a position of honor,” Dean replied. “And there are those who have yet to learn what honor is. Grant is smart—and perhaps capable, I don’t know—but his ambition has thwarted his reason and robbed him of honor. This challenge could be the first step in restoring it.”

  “Or it might be that he has no honor and he’ll do anything to beat you,” Ghost said. “Strip him of rank and have him confined to his berth.”

  “What good would that do?” Dean asked. “It would show that on my first command, I used my position to strip a good officer of his place. That isn’t what a leader does. I have to find a way to motivate him, to bring out the good in him.”

  “An ass-whooping always set me straight,” Adkins volunteered. “Just ask my mama.”

  “We all know you ain’t got no mother,” Ghost teased, before turning back to Dean. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You do realize that the five Recon platoons in this task force are probably the only ones left in the service,” Dean went on. “The last thing I need to do is tear one of them down before we even make contact with the Kroll.”

  “And if he wins?” Ghost said. “I don’t think I can just stand there and watch.”

  “You can and you will,” Dean said. “I can take care of myself. This is my decision, and I’ll face the consequences.”

  “If you lose, he’ll assign us all the shit jobs,” Adkins said.

  “And you’ll serve with honor regardless of how I fare,” Dean said. “I know that about you, Adkins: you’re an honorable man. Loyal and strong, the Wolfpack is the best platoon in the service.”

  “That’s because we’ve got the best CO,” Ghost said.

  “We’ve been through some bad shit together,” Dean said. “This is easy.”

  “You hurt him fast and take the fight out of him,” the sniper warned. “Don’t get careless or cute.”

&
nbsp; “And don’t worry about us,” Adkins said. “We know what to do.”

  The sound of marching could be heard before Captain Peter Grant’s Raptor platoon came into view. Dean waved his own specialists back and stood waiting. A moment later the Raptors appeared, the specialists lining the passageway outside the curving glass wall. Only Grant and Furoke came into the comms center.

  “We’re here,” Grant said. “What now?”

  “Now we go to holding cell eighteen,” Dean said. “You and I can finish our business there.”

  Grant didn’t move or speak for a moment, and Dean didn’t offer to make it easy on the belligerent captain. It was possible that Grant was talking to Furoke on his platoon frequency, but Dean didn’t bother to try and listen in. What he needed was to show unflinching resolve and let Grant sweat the details.

  “Are you suggesting we fight this out?” Grant said, with just a touch of uncertainty in his voice.

  “You’re goddamned right I am,” Dean said. “Let’s go.”

  Dean couldn’t see the other man’s face behind his battle helmet, but he could imagine the look of surprise. Grant wanted a fight, if he could get it under the right conditions, which was why he kept baiting Dean and challenging his authority. But Grant needed Dean to be angry, to lash out in a lapse of self-control. Or he hoped to catch Dean away from prying eyes, when he could get a jump on his rival without being held accountable for such dishonorable behavior. Still, Dean knew it wouldn’t take the arrogant captain long to warm to the idea of a fight, even if it wasn’t on his terms.

  Dean led the way out of his office, with Ghost and Adkins right behind him. The Raptors followed, their march a little less crisp than when they’d arrived outside Dean’s HQ. The walk to the far side of the ring took several minutes, and with each one that passed the lump in Dean’s stomach hardened a little. On his TCU Dean saw the message light flashing, but he didn’t have to open the program to know that it was from Esma. She was worrying. She hadn’t liked Dean’s plan, and he couldn’t really blame her. But he knew he was doing the right thing, and he couldn’t let her fears hold him back.

  When they reached the holding cell, they found Captain Parker waiting at the doorway. She stood straight and tall, all confidence and lethal efficiency. Dean nodded to her as he stepped into the room. The cell was like all the others: a long, rectangular room with a curving glass wall on one side, the strange gooey substance that held the entire ship together on the other. Dean led Ghost and Adkins to the far end of the room, then turned and waited.