Starfist - 12 - Firestorm

by Dan Cragg

  The question still to be answered was, where were the invaders going now and who might be with them? M’kwazi had little time in which to find the Marines. Therefore, he broke his normal operating procedure and took his patrol down the coast road, carefully paralleling the highway until he could smell the sea. Before they reached the late camp of the 7th Independent MP Battalion, he reached the ground where the Marines had most recently attacked. He dismounted his men and they crept carefully forward until they could see the battlefield. He spent only a quarter of an hour examining the ground. He saw where the defenders had thrown up an inadequate sandbag wall and where the Marines had attacked from, then where the Marines had swept along the abandoned defensive line at the end of the firefight. He saw where the main assault line had boarded air-cushioned vehicles and headed toward the coastal road, and where a second line had boarded aircraft—he had no way of knowing for certain where the aircraft had gone, but the coast road to Phelps was a good guess.

  He boarded his men back onto their vehicle and headed out at speed.

  Unlike the previous scouts and defenders who had faced the Marines this day, M’kwazi and his men had infrared capability. And used it. The scout vehicle skidded to a stop while it was still a kilometer and a half shy of the coastal road. M’kwazi saw infrared shapes through the trees ahead. Some were large, like vehicles, but most were man-size. He knew these must be the Confederation Marines he was seeking. They didn’t seem to be doing anything, just holding in place as though they were waiting for something. And what could that something be? To him it was obvious—they were waiting for more forces to move toward them.

  So where were the other forces?

  The only way to find out was to go in search of them. M’kwazi had his driver turn north and circle around behind the Marine battalion he’d located. He did not forget to report the current location of the Confederation Marines he’d found.

  Twenty minutes behind where the Marines were waiting, the recon patrol had to stop and go into hiding from an armored convoy coming along the road at speed. It was Confederation Army. M’kwazi read the markings on the lead vehicles, which was easy to do with the naked eye as the vehicles weren’t painted in Marine chameleon, and identified them as belonging to the 27th Infantry Division.

  Curious, M’kwazi thought. Part of M’kwazi’s duty as the senior recon sergeant in the 10th Trinkatat Scouts was to keep himself informed on every aspect of the war. He did that by reading all the after-action reports generated by General Lyons’s commanders. He followed very closely the action on Pohick Bay. The 27th was the division that beat off the amphibious assault against the enemy’s flank from the bay. How had the 27th Division gotten off of the peninsula without General Lyons knowing about it? Or was the earlier intelligence that the 27th Division was one of the trapped units wrong? Privately, M’kwazi had thought that the Marines raiding behind the Coalition’s lines had been freshly landed. But if the 27th Infantry Division had gotten off the Pohick peninsula, were these Marines also from the besieged garrison? If so, were there more Confederation forces that had managed to escape the trap now threatening the Coalition forces from the rear?

  Senior Sergeant M’kwazi waited impatiently for the convoy—trucks, now that the armored vehicles had passed—to go by so he could get around to its other side and find out if any more units were closer to the shore. He reported the approach of the division.

  When the column began to slow its passage, M’kwazi decided to stop waiting, as the division must be forming for an attack. He had his driver slowly back out of the hiding place and speed toward the back end of the column, staying just out of sight of the road. He hoped he wouldn’t find another division behind the 27th Infantry. Soon, in fleeting glimpses through the trees, M’kwazi began seeing the self-propelled vehicles of the division’s artillery regiment. Not long after that the patrol reached the end of the column. M’kwazi had his driver cross to the east of the road and take them closer to the division’s rear. If another division was farther out, they’d be able to find it, and if it was there, it wouldn’t block the patrol from the side of the road that he wanted to recon next.

  When after two kilometers the patrol neither saw nor heard sign of a following unit, M’kwazi abandoned the original plan of reconning the 7th MP camp; the 27th Infantry Division was a more important quarry, and likely there was nobody left at the MP camp. He had his driver turn about and head back toward Phelps, close to the coast road. They went fast for a while before M’kwazi had the driver slow—he didn’t want the noise of his own passage to alert any Confederation forces that might be ahead. After a short while longer, he had his driver stop and the patrol dismount. They continued on foot.

  Half a kilometer farther, M’kwazi sensed his patrol was getting very close to someone. He stopped, had his men go to ground, and continued on alone.

  Scouting for gnuttle-raiding parties had taught M’kwazi several valuable lessons at which he only became more expert with age and experience. Among them were how to move silently, and how to blend in with the background; in effect, how to be invisible even within sight of the enemy. M’kwazi firmly believed that he was every bit as undetectable as the scouts of the legendary Confederation Marine Force Recon units.

  Of course, M’kwazi had never personally encountered the Force Recon Marines, he knew them only by their reputation. For that matter, he had never encountered any Confederation Marines. He knew what reputations were; the best reputations were always exaggerated.

  Senior Sergeant M’kwazi never saw the Marine from 17th FIST who spotted him, and he didn’t hear the crack-sizzle of the plasma bolt that Marine fired at him; the bolt that killed the one-time scout for gnuttle-raiding parties.

  Half a kilometer back, his men did hear the crack-sizzle, and feared what it might mean. They waited the one hour M’kwazi had instructed them to wait, then radioed in their report. By then, though, it was too late.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The sun was not even up yet when a knock came on the door. “I have orders to evacuate you at once, sir,” a military policeman announced when the door was opened. In the street outside of the Lee family home, other police, civil and military, were knocking on doors and rousing the inhabitants with the same message. The officer handed Burton Lee, the patriarch of the Lee family, a flimsiplast sheet. Lee held it out at arm’s length to read it.

  TO THE PEOPLE OF ASHBURTONVILLE!

  IN VIEW OF THE MILITARY ACTION WHICH HAS BEEN UNDER WAY IN AND AROUND OUR GREAT CITY FOR SOME TIME NOW, IT HAS BECOME NECESSARY THAT ALL NONCOMBATANT PERSONNEL BE EVACUATED IMMEDIATELY TO LOCATIONS OUT OF THE WAR ZONE. YOU WILL BE ESCORTED TO STAGING AREAS AT ONCE AND THEREAFTER TRANSPORTED TO PREDESIGNATED CITIES AND TOWNS LYING WELL OUTSIDE THE ANTICIPATED ZONE OF OPERATIONS WHERE YOU AND YOUR FAMILIES WILL REMAIN IN COMFORTABLE CIRCUMSTANCES UNTIL HOSTILITIES ARE TERMINATED AND YOU CAN BE PERMITTED TO RETURN TO YOUR HOMES.

  THERE WILL BE NO EXCEPTIONS!

  EACH FAMILY MEMBER IS AUTHORIZED TO TAKE ONE BAG OF POSSESSIONS WEIGHING NOT MORE THAN 20 KILOS PLUS WHATEVER VALUABLES AND OTHER ITEMS CAN BE CARRIED ON HIS PERSON. WHATEVER ELSE YOU REQUIRE DURING YOUR STAY WILL BE SUPPLIED AT YOUR DESTINATION. NO EXCEPTIONS! YOU WILL SECURE ALL REAL AND OTHER PROPERTY LEFT BEHIND BEFORE DEPARTING. OUR MILITARY COMMANDS WILL ENSURE ITS SAFETY AGAINST YOUR RETURN. PLEASE BE ADVISED, HOWEVER, THAT THE CITY OF ASHBURTONVILLE ASSUMES NO LIABILITY FOR ANY PROPERTY DAMAGES OR PERSONAL INJURY SUSTAINED DUE TO MILITARY ACTION OR CIVIL DISORDER.

  THE COALITION GOVERNMENT, RECENTLY RELOCATED TO GIL BE T’S CORNERS, HAS ISSUED A STRICT EDICT THAT ALL RAVENITES WILL COOPERATE IN THIS OPERATION, OPEN THEIR DOORS TO ALL EVACUEES, AND TREAT THEM GENEROUSLY AND WITH RESPECT. THERE WILL BE NO EXCEPTIONS. VIOLATIONS OF THIS EDICT SHALL BE REPORTED AT ONCE TO THE LOCAL MILITARY COMMANDER IN CHARGE OF YOUR RESETTLEMENT DESTINATION.

  DURING THE TIME OF YOUR ABSENCE FROM OUR CITY YOU SHALL BE UNDER THE JURISDICTION OF THE MILITARY AUTHORITIES IN YOUR TEMPORARY RESIDENCES. THEY HAVE BEE
N ORDERED TO RENDER YOU EVERY POSSIBLE ASSISTANCE. I BID YOU FAREWELL FOR NOW AND GODSPEED.

  GOD BLESS OUR COALITION! GOD BLESS OUR ARMS! GOD GRANT US VICTORY! GOD KEEP YOU SAFE!

  HENRY DINKUS

  LORD MAYOR

  “So, this is it.” Burton Lee sighed. Rumors had been circulating for days that Ashburtonville would be evacuated, but there had been no official word until that moment. Some citizens had already left the city and Lee’s business in the center of town had been closed for more than a week. Until the arrival of the MP, he had considered his family safe in the suburbs. He looked out the door, past the military policeman. The huge pall of smoke and dust that had hung in the air over Fort Seymour for days had taken on a menacing aspect in the early morning light, especially after the events of last night.

  For days fighting had raged at Fort Seymour on the outskirts of the city. The citizens of Ashburtonville had been told the attack would be over in a matter of hours, but somehow the Confederation garrison out there had been holding on. The hapless citizens of Ashburtonville thrived on rumor because neither the Coalition nor the city government would or could tell them anything definite about how the war was proceeding. Rumor had it that huge reinforcements would be arriving soon and if that happened, the city itself would come under heavy attack. Each night since the fighting had started the Lees and their neighbors had assembled on the rooftops of their homes to watch the pyrotechnics of the battle raging in the direction of Pohick Bay. At first they had enjoyed having seats on the periphery of the fighting, but as the days dragged on and there was no end to it, many began to worry that the intensity of the battle would increase. The night before the evacuation order, that is just what happened.

  For years the garrison at Fort Seymour had been an important part of life at Ashburtonville. Soldiers stationed there had married local women, spent their money in the city’s businesses and entertainment spots, been welcome in the city’s homes. It was still hard for Burton Lee to call them “the enemy” because until the attack they had been allies, servants of his own government. He still could not understand how those soldiers could have opened fire on the demonstrators. He had no idea why the garrison at Fort Seymour had been reinforced as it had been, but he never saw that as a hostile move against the people of Ravenette. If anything, it had been good for business. But the hotheads who wanted secession kept agitating that the troops had been sent to suppress the civil rights of the Ravenites and keep them in the Confederation against their will. Personally, he thought the Ordinance of Secession a mistake, and had it been put to a plebiscite, he’d never have voted for it.

  Burton Lee and his son Brad were custom tailors and the business they ran had catered to many of Fort Seymour’s military personnel. The Lees were experts at producing perfect regulation clothing items for the soldiers at the garrison, especially the mess dress uniform authorized for wear on formal occasions, but not an item of issue. Officers and NCOs who could afford a tailored mess dress uniform all wanted one and the Lees happily accommodated them. Yes, the Confederation soldiers were different and spoke standard English with accents it was sometimes difficult for a Ravenite to understand, but the Lees found that no obstacle to business, even entertaining, and they would laugh easily with the soldiers over the differences in their cultures. The young men and women from Fort Seymour were honest, decent people with cash in their pockets, and the Burton Lee family had prospered because they were there.

  Then the real war had come to Ashburtonville. A little after midnight the night before the official evacuation notice, the entire city had been aroused from its uneasy slumber by a tremendous crashing and thunderous roaring. The very foundations of the citizens’ homes shook and the skies overhead were split asunder by the brilliant arcs of landing transports and the flashing duel of ground and spaceborne weapons seeking one another out, while debris from destroyed ships rained down on sections of the city until then undamaged by the fighting, setting whole blocks of homes and businesses on fire.

  The long-anticipated reinforcements had arrived.

  “Bring your family into the street, sir. Lock up your house and remaining valuables before you depart.”

  “But where will you be taking us, Officer?”

  “I have no idea, sir. Lorries will arrive momentarily to take you to your staging area. If you have friends or relatives living in other parts of the world, tell the processors at the reception center and they’ll try to get you to them. Otherwise quarters will be found wherever available. Do not be left behind or we can’t guarantee your safety. I have to be on my way now.” With that he saluted smartly and walked over to the next house up the block. As if punctuating the man’s words, a huge explosion from the direction of Pohick Bay rattled the windows in the neighborhood.

  Burton Lee’s family consisted of his wife of forty years, Marrilee, their son, Brad, his wife Janice, and their three children, Mary, thirteen, Justus, twelve, and Lilly, seven. Lilly, a vivacious and intelligent child, was Burton’s favorite. While the other family members tried to maintain their composure in order not to frighten Lilly, she knew perfectly well what was going on and was happily excited over the war and the sudden change in their lives. While her mother threw some things into a little suitcase for her, Lilly clutched her favorite doll, a lifelike baby slimie she called Hardee.

  “Get rid of that horrid thing!” her mother said as she sorted through Lilly’s clothes, picking out comfortable, practical items to take along.

  “No, Mommy!” Lilly clutched the doll closer to her chest.

  “Lilly!” Janice began, exasperated.

  “No!”

  “Lilly, what will you feed Hardee? We can’t take much food with us on the trip,” Janice said, trying to use logic on her daughter.

  “Human flesh!” the child answered, beaming. She had heard from the news that the Confederation fortifications on Pohick Bay were infested by real slimies that fed off the dead and wounded, and since she thought those soldiers were the enemies of her people, she came to think of the slimies as true Ravenite patriots.

  “Lilly.” Her mother advanced in a threatening manner.

  “Oh, Janice, let her keep the thing,” Burton said, as he walked into the room. “You pack her useful stuff, but let her keep the doll.” he winked conspiratorially at his granddaughter, who grinned back at him. “Grandpa!” she squealed and ran to throw her arms around his waist.

  Janice shook her head and went back to packing Lilly’s things. “You spoil that child, Father,” she said, but she smiled. Lilly knew what spoiled meant and she enjoyed every minute of it.

  Other children Lilly’s age played with regular dolls, bopaloos and other cuddly things and lifelike human figures they dressed and fed and talked to like they were real people, but Lilly had a slimie as her doll companion. To Burton that showed she had originality and could think independently, and perhaps even possessed a budding, wry sense of humor, which he admired. “Come on, come on!” He clapped his hands. “I hear the trucks outside now! We’ve got to get a move on.”

  The evacuation was very badly planned. In the first place, there were tens of thousands of people to be moved, and the government was trying to get them all out at once instead of in stages that could be better managed. There was also a shortage of transportation and no real arrangements had been made for their accommodations at their destinations, so many arrived in distant towns and villages like a desperate horde on the verge of panic. But worst of all, the roads leading in and out of Ashburtonville were crowded with military traffic, and Confederation fighters had raked the slow-moving targets with devastating effect, in some cases not distinguishing between the columns of evacuees and the advancing troops. Thousands of civilians died in the attacks.

  The Lee convoy of several hundred people had been headed for a high-speed railhead, some kilometers south and west of Ashburtonville, that had somehow survived the bombings. With the attacks on the roadways in full swing, though, the refugees had been diverted to an
empty warehouse outside the city, where they remained for several days with only the food the people had managed to bring along and with very little water. The officer in charge of the convoy, a quartermaster colonel from an Embata contingent, was frankly overwhelmed by the enormity of his responsibilities and the lack of both personnel and equipment to carry them out.

  But Lilly Lee was enjoying every moment of the adventure. She made her way throughout the crowded warehouse, clutching Hardee and making friends with the other children. Her only moment of fear came when she thought she might not be able to find her way back to her own family, but that passed quickly enough. She was confident that if she got lost, someone would come looking for her. They always did.

  On the evening of the fourth day, they were ordered to walk to the railway, which the colonel had been led to believe was still intact and operating around the clock. The trek there down pitch-black roads, people stumbling along in the darkness, took all night. Lilly’s grandfather carried her most of the way. Toward dawn it had started to rain and the temperature dropped. It was already light enough to see when the van of the column reached the depot. Sure enough, there was the train, long and sleek and empty. People pushed and shoved and fought to get on the cars, thinking that they guaranteed warmth, safety, food, and rest. The press of desperate bodies was enormous, and many people were seriously injured. The few military escorts were helpless to impose order on the crowd and found themselves pushed aside. Burton Lee and his family had been about midway in the column and he had been holding on to Lilly’s hand as they wearily slogged over a slight rise and saw the station before them. It was then the panicked rush began and he was swept forward by the crowd and instantly separated from his granddaughter.