by John Bowers
Three miles farther on, as they reached the northern outskirts, the atmosphere changed.
“What’s that smell?” Kopshevar asked, wrinkling his nose.
“I thought it was your breath.”
Kopshevar sneezed.
Then Nick sneezed.
The smell was unexpected, but not unfamiliar. They crossed an intersection and entered a block where the homes had been destroyed. The smell was the lingering odor of burned structures, a peculiar combination of charred wood, plastics, and other construction materials. In spite of the near-darkness, they could see the twisted and splintered frames of what had been houses, now just piles of ash with blackened beams protruding from them.
Up ahead, a shout of surprise was followed by a grunt. Two Star Marines who hadn’t been paying attention had stumbled into a hole. The line jerked to a halt for a few seconds until word rattled down the line.
“Shell craters in the road. Watch your step!”
The march continued, every man now scanning the street in front of him. As they swerved around the first crater, they began to see others, both in the street and to either side. Nick counted nineteen separate shell craters as they passed through. Then, finally, they arrived.
Chapter 2
Firebase Oscar – Camarrel, Alpha Centauri 2
The firebase had only been constructed the year before, but looked decades old. Centrally located in the north end of Camarrel, it had been built in an open area that, when the revolt started, had barely been under development. Like everything else Echo Company had seen this evening, it was dark as a tomb and very, very quiet. As they approached the southern gate, Nick was impressed by the sheer size of it.
Basically it was just a fort, though a very substantial one. In the dark it was hard to see, but Nick would learn that it was roughly rectangular in shape, with fortified walls and outlying defensive bunkers connected by tunnels. The stone walls were about fifteen feet high and reinforced with tons of bulldozed earth; concertina wire had been laid in coils around the perimeter and these were backed up by force fields that could be activated at the first hint of trouble. A dry moat had been dug inside the walls, in case an enemy actually penetrated the base. The moat was seeded with anti-personnel mines.
Inside the moat lay everything else—barracks, bunkers, mess halls, two armories, a chapel…all the comforts of home. Everything was hardened against artillery or air attack; all structures were buried, topped by old-fashioned sandbags and mounds of dirt. The entire affair was about four hundred yards long and two hundred wide—eighty thousand square yards in all.
Second Battalion approached the fort from the southeast corner, where the nearest of four gates was located. Sentries had been told to watch for them, and when Lt. Col. Dietrich received a password challenge in his helmet comm, he responded with the correct countersign. The force field over the gate was dropped and heavy iron doors swung open. The column narrowed to single-file and the Star Marines passed inside the walls, where they crossed the moat and formed up on the parade ground in the center of the firebase. While they waited for the rest of the battalion, Nick’s platoon milled about in a loose gaggle.
“Did you see all that open ground out there?” Kopshevar complained. “You could land a whole fleet of OLVs out there! Why the fuck did they make us walk all that way to get here?”
“Use your head, Kopycat,” Sgt. DuBose told him. “I imagine the enemy isn’t that far away; if we had landed here, they would have hit us with artillery before we could have got inside. Those OLVs make a terrible racket.”
“Shit, I never thought of that.”
“Of course you didn’t. That’s why I said use your head.”
Kopshevar grunted. “Okay, Sarge. I got the message.”
“If you did, it would be the first time.”
Nick laughed and slapped Kopshevar on top of the helmet. Pvt. Rudy Aquino, the youngest man in the squad, stood looking nervously around.
“Where the hell do we go from here? Captain said we’d get some chow. I don’t smell anything cooking.”
“That’s because shit doesn’t require cooking,” said Cpl. Mateo, their fire team leader. “You just eat it cold.”
“Yeah, well, I was hoping for something hot.”
“Hope in one hand, shit in the other. See which one fills up first.”
“Hey, that’s a good one, Corporal. Did you just make that up?”
“I made it up a long time ago. Got it copyrighted and everything. If you repeat it, you have to pay me.”
The aimless chatter continued until the entire battalion had entered the firebase. After Col. Dietrich conferred with the Infantry officer in command, the Star Marines were dispatched by platoon to a row of barracks about a hundred yards west of the parade ground. Each barrack was big enough for a full company; two platoons entered from each end where broad stairways descended ten feet to the interior. The lighting was dim and the air stale, but the barrack was clean and the bunks tidy. Bunks were arranged in eight rows with aisles in between.
Sergeants conferred and bunks were assigned by platoon and squad. Nick’s squad was lucky enough to get bunks near the south exit. Without hesitation, every man plopped down on his back and waited for further orders.
“Shit, this is the lap of luxury, man. I figured we’d be racking out in foxholes.”
“Don’t get too comfortable, Walker. Your first instinct was probably right. These are temporary quarters only.” DuBose winked at him.
Nick groaned. “Me and my big mouth.”
“You can say that again.”
“I know, but I don’t want to.”
Nick laid his helmet on the floor beside the bunk and closed his eyes. It was after midnight local time and he had no idea when he would get another chance to nap. The promised hot meal might not materialize, so he would take what he could get. Others did the same, and within a matter of minutes the entire room was quiet.
For forty minutes.
Footsteps thumped on the stairs as Capt. Seals and his executive officer, 1st Lt. Oehlschlaeger, joined them.
“Ten-hut!” someone shouted, and two hundred men leaped to their feet.
Seals strode down the center aisle, his boyish face lacking his usual good humor. The room was silent until he reached the other end, where he turned and faced them.
“I’ll keep this short, men. I just came from a meeting with Col. Dietrich. Because of the hour, the mess hall will not be firing up to feed us, but the kitchen staff will give us priority for breakfast, so just hang on a few more hours.”
Someone groaned, but no one spoke. The absence of a hot meal was a major disappointment.
“Tomorrow is going to be busy, so I’ll get the orientation out of the way right now. The situation is critical. The Freaks have conquered over half the continent and at present are threatening not only Camarrel, but also Lucaston, about four hundred miles north of here. Thirty-first Star Marines landed there to deal with them. The Thirty-second is landing at Twin Harbors, on the other side of the continent, to hold the line there, and the entire First Division is setting down at Lancalpha, which the Freaks have already overrun. To give you the big picture, we’ll be pushing back at them from the four corners of the continent, but you and I are only concerned with what’s in front of us.”
Seals swept the men with his gaze, then continued.
“The good news is that the Star Marines—and you men in particular—have the best training and equipment in the galaxy. The Freaks are a collection of farmers whose weapons are mostly inferior to what we have. Unfortunately, they’ve been trained well enough that they’ve managed to overrun the Colonial Defense Force, and they’ve even given the Fed Infantry fits. From what I’m told, the one thing they have in quantity is modern artillery, and they know how to use it.
“The bad news—I should say, the rest of the bad news—is that there are about a hundred thousand of them, and they’re being led by off-world mercenaries who definitely know their shit.
They also have modern machine guns and laser weapons, but when they run into a superior force, they rarely stand and fight. They use guerilla tactics when it suits them, which is one reason they’re still winning.”
“Now the really bad news.”
Seals grimaced.
“Whoever sent us here—those pricks in Congress—have decided that we don’t need all of our equipment. Since the rebels are ‘just farmers’, we apparently don’t need any armor or air support, and we won’t be needing reinforcements. I don’t know if they’re trying to save money or just pacify the anti-war crowd.”
Seals shook his head in disgust.
“Don’t get me started,” he grumbled. “The bottom line is that we’ll be fighting a strictly infantry war without air or armor; we do have artillery, but in limited supply. I think it’s safe to say that, short of total disaster, we won’t be seeing any more reinforcements, so it will be up to us. We have to shut these people down and send them back to their farms where they belong.”
He sighed.
“Hold your questions for tomorrow. That’s all you need to know at the moment, so get some rest and roll out at dawn ready to fight.” He nodded briskly. “Good night, Echo.”
Silence reigned as Seals and his XO left the barrack. For a moment everyone milled about, looking perplexed. Then the platoon commanders took over and ordered everyone back into their racks.
Nick Walker lay on top of his bunk fully clothed. He glanced at his wristwatch, which he had synchronized to the proper Alpha 2 time zone before he landed. It was just after 0200, which meant that, if they were rising at dawn, he wouldn’t get a full night’s sleep. He closed his eyes and tried to shut down his mind, which was racing at light speed. In spite of that, his weariness soon overtook him and he slept.
He came awake abruptly at 0300, along with everyone else in the barrack. His bunk was bouncing amid the sharp crack of explosions from outside. He pushed up onto his elbows and frowned into the near darkness, his heart pounding. On the bunk to his right, Kopshevar was sitting straight up and to his left, Pvt. Rudy Aquino was hyperventilating.
“What the fuck, man! What’s happening?”
“Relax,” said a quiet voice from the end of the aisle. It was DuBose. “It’s just artillery. The Freaks are trying to keep us awake. Go back to sleep.”
“Are you kidding, Sergeant? What if we get hit?”
“These barracks are underground and the tops are hardened. It would take a nuke to penetrate them. Think of it as a really hard rain and let it lull you back to sleep. If that doesn’t work, there’s one other thing you can try.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Rudy lay down again and so did Nick. Nick felt sorry for the kid, who was three weeks shy of eighteen and had joined the squad just before deployment. Rudy wasn’t the most sophisticated person he’d ever met—his innocence could be appalling—but he was a nice kid who worked hard to be a good Star Marine. For some reason he looked up to Nick, which could be annoying at times, but even so, Nick felt protective of him.
“It’s okay, Rudy,” he said in a quiet voice. “You don’t need to panic until I do. When that happens, we’ll both strip off our clothes and run away naked.”
Aquino laughed, and Nick sensed that he was calming down.
“Right now let’s get some shut-eye. I think we’re gonna need it.”
“Okay, Nick. Good night.”
“Night.”
Nick closed his eyes again, trying to ignore the rain of artillery shells that hammered the compound above them. Better get used to this, he thought. We’re gonna be here a while.
Tuesday, 15 May, 0435 (CC)
Firebase Oscar
At breakfast they ran into Fed Infantry for the first time. The mess hall opened early to feed the Star Marines, but the staff and Military Police were all Infantry. Two MPs stood guard inside the mess hall door, eyeing the new arrivals with suspicious glares. Nick winked at one of them and smiled.
“How you doing, Corporal? Nice of you guys to get up so early and join us.”
The MP grunted. His name tag said CHANDLER.
“Anything for a jarhead.”
“Did you arrange the artillery show for us too?”
“Yes I did. Hope you enjoyed it.”
“Oh, it was a blast!” Nick snickered. “Blast. Get it? Blast?”
“Yeah, I get it. You’re a real comedian.”
“I try to do my part, in my own humble way.”
Cpl. Chandler snorted.
“I’m sure you do. Why did it take you guys so long to get here?”
“Excuse me?”
“We requested reinforcements months ago.”
“Oh, that. Well, we hate to just rush into things, you know. If we came too quickly, you guys would be bitching that we were trying to steal your show, so we decided to give you a little extra time to work things out on your own.”
“Real thoughtful of you.”
“We aim to please.”
The line moved on and in short order Nick’s squad was seated at a table with trays of hot food. Given the time and place, it was surprisingly good—eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, gravy, and coffee—with a choice of biscuits or toast. Someone grumbled that there were no pancakes or French toast, but everyone ate. Within thirty minutes they were filing out to make room for Third Battalion.
When they returned to the barrack, Capt. Seals was waiting for them. With him was Lt. Col. Dietrich.
“Echo Company, listen up.”
Seals waited until he had their attention.
“The situation has changed slightly in the last few hours. Instead of going into action right away, we’re moving to another firebase about five miles west of here. Colonel Dietrich will fill you in.”
Seals stepped aside and the colonel took over. He was in his late thirties, blond, blue-eyed, and lean. He spoke with a faint German accent. Someone had nicknamed him “the Prussian”.
“Your new home will be Firebase Papa. Right now it is under control of the Fourteenth Infantry, but they are going to switch places with us and by tomorrow night it will belong to Second Battalion. Papa will be our base of operations for the next couple of days.
“I know that Capt. Seals has briefed you on our basic mission, but I want to give you a slightly broader overview to help explain things.
“The people we are fighting are officially called the Rebel Coalition. They are religious extremists who want to set up a theocratic society. When the Federation decided it was time to grant Alpha 2 its independence, they called for proposals to replace the current government. The proposal submitted by the Coalition was rejected, so they decided to force the issue. That’s what this fight is about.
“To be clear, these are not ‘Christians’ in the sense that we think of them. They are extreme fundamentalists; they hold Protestant views, but they don’t recognize other denominations and they don’t believe in religious freedom. For them, it’s their way or the sky-way. Back home we would call them a cult; in reality, they are composed of two different cults who merged their interests in order to stage the revolution—which is why they are called a coalition.
“When you see some of them, they may not look all that dangerous; they are mostly farmers and not very sophisticated, but don’t let that fool you. Nobody is more dangerous than a religious fanatic, because he believes God is on his side and any atrocity he commits for the sake of the cause will be forgiven. If you studied in school about the Inquisition or the Crusades, you will get my meaning.
“The Coalition has had this city under siege for several weeks. On the way here from the spaceport you saw some shell craters and burned-out neighborhoods—the Freaks have been pounding the city with artillery and they don’t plan to stop until they capture it. Our job is to stop them.”
Dietrich surveyed his audience for a moment, then concluded.
“I have to visit the other companies, so Capt. Seals will finish the brief
ing. Remember your training and do your jobs. Good luck men, and Semper Fi.”
Dietrich trotted up the steps and out of the barrack, leaving Seals to wrap it up.
“Firebase Papa is located outside the city, so when we get there, we will be surrounded by the enemy. The Freaks have six known encampments west of here and we will be cleaning them out. Southwest of town is another firebase called Quebec; First Battalion will operate from there. The Fed Infantry is coming off the line but will maintain residence here at Oscar, and they will be available for reinforcement in case we need them. Our own artillery will be added to theirs here in Camarrel, so we have fire support as far out as twenty-six miles.
“And, of course, we have our P-guns.
“As soon as I get the word, we’ll be drawing our gear from the armory, and after that we’ll head for Papa. Any questions?”
No one said anything. Seals nodded.
“Sit tight. I’ll be back soon.”
He left the barrack and two hundred men settled back on their bunks, restless and jittery. Like the others, Nick chafed at having to just sit around. That was okay in peacetime if it got you out of duty, but training was over and it was time to fight. Everyone was on edge and wanted to get started; none of them had ever been in battle and the waiting was the worst part.
Ten minutes after Seals left, his company runner, Pvt. Winston, trotted down the steps, peering among two hundred faces for one in particular.
“Walker! Private Nick Walker! Is Walker here?”
Nick hopped to his feet and hurried forward.
“Right here!”
Winston spotted him and nodded toward the exit.
“Follow me.”
Nick’s pulse pounded. What the hell was this about? He trotted up the steps behind Winston and followed him toward a squat, flat-roofed building fifty yards away. He desperately wanted to know what was going on, but Winston probably didn’t know; he was just a grunt who jumped when the officers yelled “Frog!”
