Revolt on Alpha 2 (Nick Walker, United Federation Marshal Book 8)

by John Bowers

  Nick clenched his jaw, but didn’t reply. Right or wrong, those were the orders, and he wasn’t sitting anything out.

  Minkler, Alpha Centauri 2

  The town of Minkler, sixteen miles west of Camarrel, was a small farming community, population just under a thousand. A major road ran straight through the town, which sat on the western bank of a small river, actually little more than a creek. The creek was dry part of the year, but sometimes overflowed its banks after a rainy season. Intelligence indicated it was currently about waist deep and, fortunately, the current was weak. The stream bank was thick with trees and foliage that screened any approach from the east.

  The Star Marines, riding in HVIs, planned to approach in a pincers movement, assaulting the town from four directions. Separate convoys of infantry sleds streamed out of Firebase Papa just before noon. Keeping low, the sleds skimmed the countryside barely ten feet above the ground. Two convoys skirted Minkler to the north, one carrying Golf Company, the other Hotel. Golf was deployed directly north of town, Hotel continued another two miles and swung south to cut the road to the west.

  A third convoy, carrying Foxtrot, delivered its troops south of town, and the fourth, carrying Echo, drove in from the east. Echo would make what amounted to a frontal assault. To delay detection, the sleds dropped Echo half a mile short of the creek, where a farming road from the north intersected the highway at an angle.

  An easterly breeze was blowing in off the Syracuse as Echo Company rolled over the gunwales of their sleds and dropped to a crouch in a corn field. The corn was young, only a couple of feet high, and provided little cover unless one lay down in it, but cover wasn’t the issue at the moment. As the sleds departed, running in whisper mode to keep the noise down, Echo formed up by platoons and began to advance toward the objective.

  Nick gripped his rifle and felt himself zone out again, just as he had done the night before. He was there, physically, but his mind seemed to view the scene from a different angle, almost an out-of-body experience. He wasn’t sure what to make of that, but didn’t dwell on it. Echo was moving line abreast, two hundred men in a single skirmish line, eyes front, nerves singing. Before they had gone fifty yards, an artillery battery fired in their direction, and they hit the dirt, diving face-down into the corn. Nick saw the flash before the muzzle blast reached him, but as he hit the ground he heard the shells passing overhead in an upward trajectory.

  His sense of relief was tangible. The rebel battery was firing at Camarrel, not Echo, but that only underscored the need for this operation. As the battery fired again, Lt. Jaeger and Capt. Seals were on their feet.

  “Move out, men! They’re not shooting at us.”

  Not yet, but what happens when they spot us?

  Nick was on his feet again, moving forward. He closed his mind to the danger, kept alert, and kept walking. A half-mile was a long way, and they weren’t there yet.

  But a half-mile wasn’t really that far. They reached the objective in a matter of minutes. The good news was that the foliage along the river screened the town from their view, but that worked both ways—the Star Marines were also screened from the enemy’s view.

  The bad news was that not all the rebels were across the river. When the battery roared again, Nick realized it was on this side of the river. Echo was just two hundred yards from the battery…and they had been spotted.

  “Double-time, Echo!” Seals shouted. “Take out that fucking gun!”

  Echo broke into a stumbling run over the uneven ground. Just as they did, a rebel machine gun opened up.

  It wasn’t a laser like last night, but a heavy slug weapon in a fixed position. The gun stuttered with a deep voice, and Nick saw tracers streaking inches above his head. He didn’t see the gun itself, but someone else did—at least two squads of Star Marines returned fire from the flanks while the rest of Echo continued its forward dash.

  The MG made a second sweep, and this time Nick heard someone yell in pain. Off to his left, two men dropped, and Nick dived into the corn again, along with the rest of Echo. They were now just fifty yards from the creek, and could see the rebel battery. Men swarmed around it, maybe ten or twelve, loading shells and removing empty casings. The guns roared again, the shells shrieking outward toward their target.

  But the artillery was no longer Nick’s greatest concern. That machine gun was sweeping the field, and he heard two or three more men cry out in pain. He could see it now, hidden in the brush along the creek bank. Actually, he saw the flash, and smoke drifting from the muzzle. He braced his rifle against his shoulder and opened fire, but before he could register his shots, the gun fell silent. He saw four Star Marines leap to their feet and charge the position, firing on the run. They disappeared into the brush and, a moment later, stepped out to wave the company forward.

  Capt. Seals leaped to his feet and charged for the underbrush. Third Platoon leaped up and followed. Nick cleared the edge of the cornfield at a dead run; the river foliage was only ten yards away now and within seconds, 3rd Platoon was swallowed up in its cool greenness. The rebel battery fired again, as if oblivious to the danger of approaching Star Marines. Nick winced from the muzzle blast, which felt like someone had bitch-slapped him in the forehead.

  The gun position was only twenty yards away now, dug into the soft ground beside the river, surrounded by sandbags. Nick saw two separate guns sitting side by side. Rebels in black pants and white shirts were sweating as they loaded heavy 80mm rounds into the feeding racks. A glance at the cornfield showed him nothing—the Star Marines had all reached the riverbank and were no longer visible. The rebel guns were flanked, but didn’t seem to know it.

  Are they blind or stupid?

  This close to the battery, nobody said a word. Seals used hand signals to give the next order—grenades. Nick started to pull a couple off his belt, but stopped—2nd Platoon was closer, and one of their squads worked its way to within three or four yards of the gun position. Working in tandem, without making a sound, six men heaved grenades at the same moment, then ducked for cover. Nick, squatting in the undergrowth, peered through the greenery and saw the little bombs arc into the emplacement, heard the surprised shouts, and saw the gun crews scramble for cover.

  Much too late. The grenades erupted like a string of firecrackers. From Nick’s position, the blast was negligible, but fragments sprayed in every direction, ripping a couple of thin limbs off the tree next to him. As the roar died away, the morning became strangely silent. A small cloud of smoke rose from the gun emplacement, the breeze pushing it toward the town.

  Nick sucked a deep breath and blew it out. He got a grip on his nerves. This was only the beginning.

  Seals spoke into his helmet mike so that every man in Echo could hear him.

  “Good work, men. Our next objective is to—”

  KA-BOOM!

  The blast drowned out whatever Seals was about to say. He recovered instantly.

  “Jesus Christ, are you shitting me? Okay, Echo, there’s another battery. Looks like it’s on the far side, south of the road. First Platoon, do you have eyes on it?”

  Lt. Tran Li replied, but on the command frequency. Nick couldn’t hear him, but did hear Seals reply.

  “Okay, Lieutenant, get your men across and take cover until you hear from me. Second and Third Platoons, we’re crossing right here. Once we get eyes on that battery, we’ll keep it busy until 1st Platoon can assault it. Move out, and watch for rebels on the far bank.”

  Following Cpl. Mateo and flanked by Kopshevar and Rudy Aquino, Nick plunged down the riverbank toward the water and started across. The creek was about ninety feet wide, but just as S2 had reported, it was shallow. The water was stagnant, barely moving. The muddy bottom gave him more trouble than the current—the mud sucked at his boots and threatened to pull them off. He had to step high and careful to avoid losing them.

  The rebel battery blasted four more times before he got across. His fire team leader, Cpl. Mateo, was right in front of him. Nic
k followed him up the far embankment and flattened out at the top, peering out toward the town. He had briefly seen a data map of Minkler before they left Firebase Papa; it wasn’t much of a town, more like a village, with perhaps thirty homes situated on three or four parallel streets bisected by the main highway. The nearest street was no more than sixty yards away, separated from the creek by a grassy strip of open ground. He saw no immediate threats.

  But to his left, just across the main road, the second battery was still firing. Every round left his ears ringing, and the smell of chemical smoke was pungent.

  “Second Platoon, put fire on that battery! Third Platoon, get across that street and start clearing houses—and be careful of civilians! First Platoon, stand by with grenades. Execute!”

  Capt. Seals was standing upright, out in the open, waving an arm as he issued commands. Nick marveled at his bravery…or stupidity; certainly no one could accuse him of leading from behind. Following Seals’ orders, Lt. Jaeger led 3rd Platoon across the open field at a dead run, dashing toward the nearest street. Nick ran like a madman, his heart pounding in his ears, expecting to draw fire at any second. He was astonished that they reached their objective without incident, but that was only the beginning. He kept running until he reached the side of a house, where he crouched and surveyed his surroundings.

  Star Marines swarmed down the block, one fire team flanking every house in sight. Before the enemy had time to react, men were kicking in doors and rushing into homes. In Nick’s case, Cpl. Mateo did the kicking and Nick was the first one through the door. He swung his rifle in every direction, but no one was in sight. The living room was neat and tidy, but there were more rooms in back.

  “Star Marines!” he bellowed. “Drop your weapons! Civilians, call out! This is your only warning!”

  He advanced toward the hallway, ready for anything—then stopped.

  “Don’t shoot!” cried a woman’s voice. “They’re not here! The rebels aren’t here!”

  “Show yourself! Come out now! Show me your hands!”

  He trained his rifle on the hallway as Kopshevar and Aquino moved up behind him.

  “I’m coming out! Don’t shoot! Please, don’t shoot!”

  It could be a trick, but Nick didn’t think so. The woman sounded terrified.

  “Five seconds, Ma’am, or I’ll open fire. Come out right now!”

  She stepped into the hallway, a wiry, middle-aged woman with a sunburned complexion that suggested she spent a lot of time outside. Her age was hard to guess, but one thing was certain—she was definitely scared. She stood facing him, both hands in the air. Her hands were empty.

  “Is anyone else here? Are you alone?”

  “Yes, I’m alone. My husband is at work.”

  “Have you seen any Coalition troops?”

  “You mean rebels?” She shook her head. “I haven’t seen them today, and now that you’re here, I hope I never see another one.”

  Nick waved her forward, keeping her covered. Her eyes displayed a mixture of fear and relief as she moved into the living room. When Nick motioned toward the couch, she sat down, arms still raised. Kopshevar and Aquino followed the hallway and checked the other rooms. Nick heard loud voices from other houses nearby as the men of Echo cleared the homes around him.

  “Are you all right, Ma’am?” Nick lowered his rifle.

  The woman nodded, tried to smile, and suddenly began to sob. But she kept nodding.

  “Yes! Yes, thank God you came! Those p-people are h-horrible!”

  Nick was about to ask for details when a frenzy of gunfire exploded just two houses down. He bolted back toward the door, where Mateo was on the comm to Sgt. DuBose.

  “Where is it?” Nick demanded.

  Mateo pointed.

  “Second Squad has it,” he said, then continued talking to DuBose.

  Nick stepped back inside to collect Kopshevar and Aquino. Both men wore strained expressions, but he supposed he did, too. He turned to the woman again.

  “Just sit tight, Ma’am. We’ll mark this house as clear, but keep your hands empty in case more Star Marines show up. Don’t give them any reason to shoot.”

  “You mean—”

  “This isn’t over. As long as there’s a single rebel in town, you’re still in danger. Keep your head down and whatever you do, don’t go outside. When this is over, you may be interviewed by intelligence officers, but one thing I can promise you—the Freaks aren’t coming back.”

  “How—how do you know? We’ve been told that before, but they always came back. And it wasn’t pretty.”

  “Not this time. The Star Marines are here.”

  *

  The gunfire down the block had died out. Cpl. Mateo led his fire team out the back door of the house they’d just cleared, across the backyard, across the alley, and into the next house. They took all reasonable precautions as they broke in, but the house was empty. Not even the homeowner was present.

  Looking out the front window at the next street, however, provided a shock. Nick felt his skin crawl even as the others expressed dismay—just twenty yards away, sitting on an open lot, were three 80mm artillery pieces. They were completely exposed, not even dug in, but the good news was they looked abandoned. A fixed machine gun had been set up to protect the battery, but no one was manning it. Nick didn’t see a soul in sight.

  “What do we do now, Corporal? Spike the guns?”

  “We could,” Mateo said, “but we don’t have anything to spike them with. I’d rather capture them, in case our arty guys can use them against the Freaks.”

  “Sounds good to me. But if we go out there, the Freaks may be set up in some of those houses. They’d kill us before we ever saw them.”

  “How about we work our way down this block?” Kopshevar suggested. “Clear the other houses on this street, then cross over and work our way back. Those guns aren’t going anywhere, and if the rebels decide to use them, they’ll be exposed and we won’t. We can take them a lot easier then.”

  “That’s one possibility,” Mateo said. “Any others?”

  Nick glanced out the front window again, gazing to his right. This house was the last one on the north end of the street, and the cross street marked the edge of town. Beyond that stood a grove of trees similar to those along the riverbank.

  “If we can get into those woods,” he said, “we could flank the guns. Hit the houses behind them and clear them out. If the guns are still unmanned, then they’re ours.”

  Mateo nodded. “The only problem with that is, if we leave this house the enemy could occupy it. We could walk into a trap from the other direction.”

  “Okay, then. You and Kopycat stay here and keep watch. I’ll take Rudy across the road and we’ll flank the gun. After we clear the houses on that side, you two can join us.”

  Mateo considered a moment, then nodded. He turned to Rudy Aquino.

  “You okay with that, Rudy?”

  “Yeah. Sure, whatever.” Rudy looked rattled, but he always did. He’d been jumpy ever since Nick had known him.

  “Okay.” Mateo nodded. “Move out. Just watch yourselves—the Freaks could have infiltrated those woods.”

  Nick and Rudy exited the house through the back door and turned for the road on the north. To reach it, they had to pass through a wooden gate in the backyard fence; as Nick opened it a crack to look out, more firing broke out to the south of them, which might or might not be a good thing—if the rebels were following the firefights, they might overlook the possibility of Star Marines attacking from the north.

  They each took a knee while Nick surveyed the terrain in both directions. The trees were twenty or thirty yards away, but the road was completely exposed. Nick wished it was dark, but wishing was a waste of time. If they were going to cross, they had to risk being seen, which risked being shot it.

  “Fuck!”

  “What is it?” Rudy sounded anxious.

  “I think this was a bad idea. Maybe Kopycat’s idea was better.”<
br />
  “What’re we gonna do?”

  Nick stared both ways again, wavering. They hadn’t seen a single rebel since they entered Minkler, but that meant nothing. It was very possible the rebels were watching them. He heaved a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to do.

  “Okay, cover me. I’m gonna make a dash for it.”

  “Okay.” Rudy gripped his weapon tighter, fear in his eyes.

  Nick pulled the gate wider to give himself room to squeeze through. He swept the area one last time to make sure no one was visible, then rose to a crouch like a runner on starting blocks. As his gaze passed over the woods one last time—he stopped.

  Movement.

  “Shit!” He shoved the gate closed except for a crack.

  “What is it?”

  “Someone over there. Good thing I didn’t take off running.”

  “Is it the Freaks?”

  “Can’t tell. But I saw movement.”

  Nick clicked off the safety on his rifle and brought it to his shoulder. If any rebels appeared, he was ready to fire.

  Two men stepped out of the trees not twenty yards away. They were staring at the unmanned artillery battery, and Nick almost wet himself with relief. They were Star Marines.

  “Jesus!” he told Rudy Aquino. “It’s Golf Company. I forgot they were coming in from the north.”

  Rudy sighed in relief. “What do we do now?”

  Nick pushed the gate open a few inches, lowered his rifle, and waved his arm. One of the men across the road caught the movement and swung his rifle in their direction, but Nick raised a thumb in his direction.

  “Semper fi!” he shouted.

  The Star Marine relaxed a fraction and Nick saw him smile. A minute later, he heard a voice in his helmet comm.

  “Who are you?”

  “Private Walker,” he replied. “Echo Company.”

  “Sergeant McCoy,” the voice said. “What’s the situation?”

  “We’ve cleared the houses up to this point, just saw the battery with no one around, and were getting ready to flank it. If you want to do that, we’ll cover you from this side.”