Mercenary

by Dennis Young

  * * *

  The meeting was held in the office of Colonel Mortimer Vicker, with Fawkes and Adams attending as well. The Major had asked for a private consultation, explaining to Talice her words would be less likely interrupted with a smaller group.

  “And will my words die there, sir?” she had asked, unsure if Vicker was the best choice. She knew he’d been a field commander, and therefore understood the dangers. But he had also been behind a desk nearly ten years, and the worlds in the Laberos system had changed markedly in that time, not to mention the challenges of wild frontiers. Like Crius.

  “Present your concerns, Lieutenant,” Fawkes answered. “Beyond that, nothing is required. Once it’s bucked up the ladder, your job is to your platoon and Company. Understood?”

  Talice stood straighter and thrust out her chin. “Yes, sir. Hua.”

  She had dressed immaculately that morning, given herself a fresh buzz-cut, and made sure her nails were cleaned of the remaining grit from the operation. She sat opposite Vicker and Fawkes. Captain Adams, the Company OIC, was by her side. There were no recorders, assistants, flunkies, papers, a SLATE, or even a pen and paper. Just three Marine senior officers, and a very intense junior lieutenant full of righteous indignation.

  “Lieutenant Wyloh has come up through the ranks, Colonel,” said Adams. “She’s one of my best platoon leaders and a good judge of tactics and strategies. I have confidence in her assessment of the Crius situation.”

  Vicker nodded, eyes intent with Talice’s. “Let’s hear it, Lieutenant. You have my ear.”

  All the plans and words Talice had set in her mind for the meeting suddenly seemed inadequate. This is stupid. The colonel knows what happened. Fawkes knows what happened, as does Adams. I was there. Why am I doing this?

  “We’re waiting, Lieutenant,” Fawkes urged gently.

  “Give your report, just like you did with me,” said Adams at her side.

  Talice closed her eyes and nodded. “Sirs, the operation on Crius was a cluster from the beginning. Tactics that were by the Book were worthless in a strategic setting that had no chance of success. Use of special-ops platoons in a frontal assault is folly. We’re not an assault force, we’re… well, the old term used to be ‘ninja’. Maybe even ‘assassin’ is more appropriate, though our methods have changed considerably.”

  “Ever killed a man with your bare hands, or a knife, Lieutenant?” asked Vicker.

  Talice hesitated only a heartbeat. “No, sir. However, during the operation, the order was given to fix bayonets.”

  Vicker nodded. “Until you do, don’t liken the Service to either of those terms, then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Continue.”

  Talice pondered for a moment. Was she wrong? Had the operation been planned well, only to be undone by the breach in comm? And that was it? Her suspicions simply nothing more than a conspiracy in her mind?

  She continued. “Sirs, it is my opinion, as a field operative with a dozen successful missions, that the planning for this operation was not done in good faith.”

  Eyebrows around the table rose.

  Well, that got their attention, she thought. “I don’t mean there was malice involved, but the mission spirit wasn’t there. Local support was missing, because of corruption therein, and general ill feelings between the government of Crius and our own. The use of Marines, in this case, may not have been warranted, as it may have appeared to the locals that we were attempting to impose our will, and thereby usurp power.”

  “Formal request was made for aid, Lieutenant,” reminded Fawkes. He was looking a bit nervous to Talice’s eyes.

  “Yes, sir, however I’ve done a bit of research on the situation leading up to the operation. There wasn’t much real cooperation between our operation planning and the local authorities. In essence, we froze them out. We caused them to lose face.”

  Fawkes exchanged glances with Vicker. “Go on, Lieutenant.”

  Talice took a drink of water from the glass before her. “Sir, had we involved the local authorities more in our initial planning, and perhaps allowed them to take point in the operation, things might have gone differently.”

  “Might have,” repeated Vicker.

  Talice nodded. “Yes, sir, no guarantees. However, it would have aided our planning, that while the locals took the initiative, Troopers could have been used for what they… what we do best. Find the weak points and exploit them. Carefully planning before the initial onslaught might have even exposed how the pirates tapped into our comm, which was the immediate cause of the mission failure.”

  Vicker watched Talice for a long moment. “You’ve put some thought into this.”

  “Yes, sir, I have. I’m a bit of a student of motivations and their effect on battle.”

  “For the record,” said Adams at her side, “I concur with the Lieutenant. Our planning should have taken local issues more seriously. Her point is valid.”

  “Very well,” said Vicker, looking again to Fawkes. “What else, Lieutenant?”

  “I believe this to be my most serious of concerns, Colonel. We lost good Marines because we simply didn’t think deeply enough into effects of the mission as planned.” She paused, then charged ahead. “We got cocky.” She caught Fawkes nearly rolling his eyes, but said nothing else.

  “I see. Perhaps we should include a soothsayer during our next planning session.”

  Talice pushed an eyeroll of her own down quickly. “If the colonel thinks it would help, perhaps it should be considered.”

  “That’s enough, Lieutenant,” said Fawkes.

  “Yes, sir. Apologies for my words. I just… Sirs, I’ve attended eight funerals in the last three days. I don’t ever want to do that again.”

  “Noted, and I agree.” Vicker looked to Adams, who was grim-faced. Fawkes looked like he’d bitten into the sourest lemon ever. Talice focused on the image of Mac in her hospital bed and set her jaw.

  “You’ve given me a number of things to think about,” said Vicker at last. “I’ll discuss this further with Major Fawkes and see what we can present to High Command.”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  “Thank you for your time, Colonel,” said Fawkes at the last. He looked to Talice. “Lieutenant, your candor is appreciated, and your service as well. You’re dismissed.”

  Talice rose to attention, turned and took her exit. Adams followed her out the door.

  “A moment, Lieutenant.”

  She turned, not sure what to expect. “Yes, sir.”

  “Colonel Vicker isn’t used to having junior officers speak to him so frankly.”

  Talice straightened. “Yes, sir. How should I have spoken?”

  Adams shook his head. “What I mean is, you have to consider his position. He’s in senior command of the base, third from the top. What he hears will go all the way to the Commanding General.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s my hope.”

  “Dammit, Talice, I know how you feel. Getting your ass blasted to bits is no fun. I was there as well.”

  “Yes, sir. You survived, and so did I. Others didn’t. They can’t speak, so I’m speaking for them.”

  Adams met her eyes for a long moment. “I’m going to do something unprecedented, and it’s all your fault. I’m going to recommend you for promotion to full Lieutenant and second in command of the Trooper Company. With Roland gone, there are no better choices. Your reputation is well known by the Trooper platoons, and you’re respected by all of them. Your words are too important not to be given consideration.”

  Full lieutenant? I’ve only been a Second for…! Talice was speechless for what seemed to be ages. “I… don’t know what to say, sir, except thank you.”

  “For now, that’s plenty. It will take a favor or two called in, but give me a bit of time and it will happen. The Company needs you. I need you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’m in your debt.”

  “No, you pay it forward, Lieutenant, to your men and women. Do
the job, keep them close, and keep talking. I’ll back you up.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll do that. You have my word.”

  * * *

  Talice sat with Mac on the veranda of the medical complex. It was summer and breezy, Laberos’s warmth caressing their faces, large in the sky, more yellow than Olde Earth’s Sol, and welcome.

  Talice had never seen Olde Earth, only studied back in her first year of what was still called College, and forgotten half of what she’d learned about it. She recalled some of the details about the planetary system, but couldn’t remember the names. She knew Olde Earth had been devastated by multiple world wars, and taken more than a hundred years to recover from the final one, the one that convinced what was then left of humanity to come to their senses.

  She knew all about the Millennium Project, the thousand-year exodus into the cosmos from Olde Earth, beginning with voyages taking decades or more, to near-light-speed travel and the time dilation issues that came with it. While true FTL travel still eluded scientists, the colonies, as they were established one by one, truly were on their own. And while some had failed completely, others survived, some grew, and those like Theia, flourished. It was a dream, larger than any one person or country or generation, or even century’s leaders. It was a promise, that no matter what happened on Olde Earth or any of the colonies, Humankind would go on, and perhaps, one day encounter others like them, and conquer the stars together.

  And no matter that Olde Earth was worn and tired and all but done with its life as the Cradle of Humanity; the Children were alive and kicking.

  Some kicking and screaming. Like Crius.

  “They offered me a buyout,” said Mac, bringing Talice back from her thoughts.

  “What’s the offer? A million creditmarks and a whole new body?”

  They laughed quietly together.

  “Legs like yours, but bigger boobs,” replied Mac, and they laughed again.

  Talice drew a small flask from her carryall, looked around for watching eyes, and passed it to Mac. She took a sip, smiled, then handed it back to Talice, who did likewise.

  “Good stuff. Single malt?”

  “Of course. I don’t go for any of that blended crap.” Talice took another sip, capped the flask, and stowed it before a nurse or orderly might wander by. “So, what’s the offer? Legs for sure, right?”

  Mac nodded. “Desk job until they’re ready, full therapy for a year, then my choice.”

  “Choice? Back to combat duty? Damn, I’d love to have you back. Less work for me.” Talice waited for a reply, but Mac’s eyes were far away.

  “No combat. Promotion and a desk, go for my thirty.”

  Talice thought for a moment. “Or what?”

  Mac’s face contorted for an instant, then she hit the auto-injector for her pain meds. It hissed softly, and she relaxed.

  “Mac, you okay?”

  “Yeah, just… give me a minute. Having your legs crushed to powder isn’t fun, you know?”

  Talice knelt and faced her. “I’d have traded places with you if I could. The Base needs you, Mac. You’re a born leader, and they love you. I can’t…” Talice dropped her eyes away for a moment, the looked back to Mac’s face. “I can’t imagine the Corps without you.”

  Mac nodded slightly. “That’s the other part of the offer. Retirement.”

  Talice sat again, elbows on her knees. “No, you can’t do that. That’s just… not right.”

  “They never let new legs back into combat duty, you know that.”

  Talice shook her head. “What about training? Surely they’d let you —”

  “Not an option offered.”

  “But…”

  Mac turned to Talice. “Look, I told you some time ago I was considering retirement anyway. So nothing’s really changed except now I can do it with a bit more in my creditcom. Promotion to Master, new legs, and some contacts for contractors working with the base.” She laid her hand on Talice’s arm. “It’s not a bad deal considering the desk option.”

  “Fuck the desk. Ask for training.”

  Mac shook her head. “Still more desk than training. Working with civie contractors, at least I’d be… involved. Maybe help make some changes in the system.”

  “Dammit, Mac…”

  “I’d still be around. You just wouldn’t be giving me orders.”

  Talice stared at the veranda flooring for a long while. “Who’s gonna keep me from doing stupid lieutenant stuff?”

  “Oh, I’ve already taken care of that. Rory will be happy to put you in a bear hug anytime you show indications of officer ability.”

  Talice chuckled. “That guy’s got more muscles than humans are supposed to be born with.”

  Mac grinned salaciously and chortled. “You have no idea.”

  Talice’s head came up quickly. “What??”

  Mac gave her a look. “You outta give him a try, Princess. Drain some of that stress and angst. But that skinny ass of yours might not survive the encounter.”

  Talice sat, wide-eyed, then they both burst into a wild laugh.

  * * *

  Dreams to Nightmares…

  A sense of normalcy began to settle back into the lives of Talice and the Trooper platoons. Her bump up to full lieutenant came through in less than ten days. She liked the silver bar better than the gold, but still felt eyes upon her when she walked past the Junior Grades she knew had been officers longer than her. No matter. Captain Adams had gone to bat for her, and she was determined to not let him down.

  She found herself besieged by paperwork at her desk. Reports, evaluations, recommendations for replacement personnel, recommendations for awards and promotions, blackmarks, which she hated to file, notes and memos and the latest strategy and tactics plans… She had never known just how much paper the Corps still used, regardless SLATES and computers and texting and netmail. It never ended.

  Training resumed for the platoons, and with this, she could get away from the desk. She was assigned an orderly by name of Marianne, a young woman who attacked the paperwork with the enthusiasm of a true Trooper, for which Talice was eternally grateful.

  She joined the Red Raiders in their assault exercises, flew with them on their drops into the hills beyond the Base, and took absolute glee in running through the obstacle course under live fire.

  She would return to her apartment exhausted every night, take comfort in a steaming shower, and collapse into bed. Then rise at midnight and sort through the paperwork, post orders for Marianne, and crawl back beneath her blankets.

  Morning would find her struggling to fully wake. Getting too damn soft! Desk work is killing me. No, it’s the deskwork and the training together that’s killing me. How do officers do this shit? I see the others out there with their platoons. Okay, maybe they don’t go through the live-fire or drops, but still… I’m young, not even thirty. Got a lot of miles on those years, though, girl. Maybe I need a boost.

  There were nights she’d wake drenched in sweat and not know why. Metabolism going nuts? Getting old too soon? Damn, I wake up horny as hell some nights! Maybe I just need a man? Biological clock ticking? What the hell?

  She looked up Lieutenant Nikolay Polivanov again, hoping he hadn’t been transferred. Nope, there he was, still dirtside and in the neighborhood, so she sent him a text-comm that morning. Back on the daily grind, hope to see you soon. Club at 1800? Miss your silly vodka fetish. Talice.

  They met. They saluted each other, smiling. They talked, just like before. They laughed, they debated, they drank and drank and even flirted lightly. Talice didn’t know what her system was doing, but she pretended it was okay and some good, wholesome sex would calm the matter. But Nikolay wouldn’t take the bait. Or if he did, he deflected it gracefully, and continued to stay on the close-but-not-too-close side of platonic. They two-cheek-kissed lightly on parting, promising to meet again soon.

  Shit. Now what? Hello hand, good to see you again. You’re gonna be busy tonight.

  The following
training run, something happened.

  The obstacle course in the rain had always been fun. Now it was only exhausting and miserable. The drops in the hills had been a getaway. Now they were difficult at best, and nearly impossible to navigate at worst. Talice sprained an ankle on a landing, something she’d never done before, and with a powered ’chute. Recruits might do it, even a first-mission Trooper could land awkwardly under adverse conditions, but not her. Not the second-in-command of the Company with a dozen missions under her belt. Not Talice.

  The kicker came under live-fire assault. She found herself trapped, unable to escape, and knew, if she didn’t do something, she could get seriously hurt. Even killed. Things had happened in live-fire, but very, very seldom.

  But she couldn’t move. She didn’t even have the strength to do an emergency cancel of the exercise. She laid there, sprawled behind heavy cover, listening to her heart thunder in her ears.

  Then the firing stopped.

  Then the sensations of someone close, and words she couldn’t hear.

  Had her suit malfunctioned? Was she shot? Was she… dead?

  She barely felt them turn her over, lay her on a stretcher, and bounce her along through the course. Barely heard the sirens. Barely understood she was in a medivac.

  Her body was mush, her mind little better. She thrashed weakly as she felt straps tighten across her chest.

  More voices she couldn’t understand. More thrashing. A cold sensation on her now-bare arm.

  Then everything went away, and she was floating.

  * * *

  She woke in the infirmary. Her eyes focused slowly, and she saw bags hanging above her on the IV stand, filled with clear liquid. Not blood, just… something else. She breathed a sigh of relief. Not shot. Not dead. But… what?

  The curtain rustled and moved aside.

  “Well, you’re awake. Good.”

  “Babs?” Talice licked her dry-as-a bone lips. “What… happened?”

  Babs raised her SLATE and recited. “Severe dehydration, muscle atrophy due to unknown causes, low BP, decreased brainwave activity… Shall I go on?”