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

by John Bowers

  Nick crouched in the relative darkness, looking out an unbroken window facing the park. He could feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, but wasn’t unduly frightened. Rudy Aquino was another story.

  “What do you think they have over there?” he asked in a harsh whisper. “I don’t see anything moving.”

  “They’re probably not dumb enough to show themselves, but I expect they’ve got some heavy shit set up in those big buildings. That library looks pretty solid.”

  “Nothing to worry about, Rudy,” said Kopshevar. “Just a few plasma mines. Just watch where you step.”

  Rudy gulped in fear. Nick cast Kopshevar a sharp look.

  “Kopycat, are you trying to panic him? Knock that shit off!”

  Even in the near darkness, Kopshevar couldn’t hide his grin. He shrugged.

  “Just trying to lighten the moment.”

  “For you, maybe. Not for Rudy.”

  From their position, they could see several of the buildings north and south of the park, but the courthouse on the far end was largely hidden by the trees. At the moment, everything was quiet. The square was lit by dim streetlights along its perimeter, but mostly they saw shadows. It took ten minutes for the machine guns from Heavy Weapons to arrive and set up. Four guns, each served by four men, plus a couple of riflemen. The helmet comms crackled again. It was DuBose.

  “Stand by, men. Hotel is going after the buildings on the south side. As soon as they jump off, Third Platoon is going through the park. S2 thinks the courthouse is the most heavily defended, so we’re going to take it out.”

  Nick’s heart suddenly raced. He couldn’t believe his ears.

  He chinned his mike.

  “Are you insane!” he shouted.

  “Who said that? Walker, was that you?”

  “You’re goddamn right it was! Sergeant, do you have a death wish, or do you just hate Third Platoon? That park is surrounded on three sides by unknown forces, and it’s wide open. If they open up on us, we won’t stand a chance!”

  DuBose came back immediately. His voice sounded strained.

  “It isn’t my order, Walker, it came from the Prussian, so shut up and obey it. The Freaks are blinded by the IR flare, so they won’t see you.”

  “The hell they won’t! That flare will only blind their night vision equipment, but by now they already know it isn’t working, so they’ll be watching for us with their naked eyes. If we try to cross that park, they’ll see us.”

  “Walker…you’re not the only one going out there. I’m going and so is the rest of the platoon. Suck it up and get ready.”

  “I’m not taking my guys out there, Sergeant. Not until those buildings are cleared.”

  “Goddammit, do you want a starcourt? Because if you refuse orders, you’re going to get one.”

  “If it saves the guys with me, I’ll take it. I’m not taking them into that park.”

  He thought he heard DuBose heave a reluctant sigh.

  “Okay, fine. Go hide in a corner until this is over. Kopycat, you’re now team leader. Get ready to enter the park.”

  Kopshevar, usually jovial, suddenly looked stricken. His eyes were wider than Nick had ever seen them.

  “Sergeant, I think Nick is right. That looks like suicide.”

  DuBose didn’t reply, but thirty seconds later he stormed into the shop from the toy store next door. He stalked up to them, glaring down at each of them.

  “What is your fucking problem?” he demanded. “You’re lucky we had that conversation on the squad frequency, or you’d both be in deep shit. The officers didn’t hear any of it.” He glanced at Aquino, who looked both terrified and confused. He looked at Carlson.

  “What about you, Kit? Do you still have a backbone?”

  Kit Carlson, also a jovial sort, looked trapped. He didn’t answer right away, as if trying to make a decision.

  “Look, we have heavy machine guns set up,” DuBose told them. “They’ll cover you. So what’s the problem?”

  “The MGs can’t kill what they can’t see,” Nick said. “They won’t know where to shoot until the enemy exposes his position, and by the time they do that, we’ll all be dead. Sergeant, I’m surprised at you! You know as well as I do that this is a stupid idea. Are you afraid to buck the order? Is that it?”

  DuBose took a threatening step forward, his face like a thundercloud.

  “What did you just say to me? Do you need your ass kicked? Because I’m just about ready to do that!”

  Nick stood up. He had an inch on DuBose, but they weighed about the same, and DuBose was more muscular. He had no intention of fighting the sergeant, but questioning the man’s courage probably wasn’t the best way to avoid it.

  “Look Sergeant,” he said in a more reasonable voice, “all I’m saying is that sending us out there will accomplish nothing except get us killed. I think you already know that, don’t you.”

  Before DuBose could form a reply, Nick snapped the arming lever on his rifle and pushed past him. He spoke to the men crouched against the wall.

  “You guys stay put. Carlson, if I don’t come back, you take the fire team.”

  DuBose grabbed his shoulder.

  “What the hell are you doing!”

  “I’m going to obey your order. I’m going after that fucking courthouse, and if I survive it, then you and the Prussian will be right. If I don’t…well, say nice things at my funeral.

  “You guys cover me.”

  Without another word, Nick kicked the glass out of the door and stepped outside. DuBose shouted after him.

  “Walker! Get the fuck back here! Wait for Hotel Company!”

  Nick heard, but didn’t look back. Instead, he lowered his head and dashed across the pedestrian walk to the edge of the park, where he took momentary cover behind a park bench.

  “Goddamn you, Walker! Get back here! You made your fucking point!” Now DuBose was shouting over the helmet comm, but Nick ignored him.

  He was about ninety feet from the storefront, barely into the edge of the park, but took a moment to survey what lay ahead of him. To his right and left were two large fountains, both spouting water into the air; the base of each fountain was fitted with colored lights that illuminated the spray. The one to his right was pink, the one on the left blue.

  He was surprised that the power grid was still active, but night lights glowed all over the area. He scanned the park, peering between trees where the shadows were deepest. He didn’t think the rebels would be dumb enough to put people in the park where they would be naked before sleds and P-guns, but if Col. Dietrich was dumb enough to send Star Marines across it, maybe the rebels were, too.

  He didn’t see anything. He moved around the park bench and trotted deeper into the park, among the trees, toward the bandstand a hundred fifty yards away. The unlighted bandstand rose about four feet above the ground, just a silhouette against more distant streetlights.

  Nick zigzagged as he ran, first right and then left, dodging from tree to tree. His heart pounded in his ears, and now he really was afraid, but he was also angry. If DuBose and the officers were so goddamned stupid as to think the park offered a logical approach to the courthouse, then fuck them all. Maybe his own death would spare the men in his squad…and hopefully prevent such stupid orders in the future. The government buildings flanking the park loomed like silent forts waiting to open fire. Any one of them could hold a company of rebels, and it only took one bullet to kill him. As he ran, he felt like a duck in a shooting gallery.

  To his absolute surprise, he made almost a hundred yards without drawing fire. Then…the bandstand erupted. He was just passing a children’s play area when he heard the staccato ripping of a small calibre machine gun. Sparks danced off a set of monkey bars, driving ricochets in all directions. Nick dove sideways to his right, hit the ground with a bounce, and rolled behind a tree. A second burst, long and sustained, ripped into the tree; branches rained down around him and he saw white splotches appear in the tree bark. He cra
wled forward and, mostly protected by the tree, trained his rifle around it.

  Before he could open fire, the four machine guns set up in the shops behind him did. He heard men shouting, but the words were drowned in the hammer of the guns. Even as he opened fire with his rifle, he saw tracers streaking toward the bandstand in four separate streams. Except for the enemy gun’s muzzle flash, the bandstand still sat in darkness, but as heavy .49 cal slugs ripped into it, he heard the sound of splintering wood. The rebel gun switched directions, now returning fire against the four guns behind him.

  Nick leaped up and dashed another ten yards, angling to his right, and dove behind the cover of a long park bench. The machine gun still fired at the shops behind him, but two riflemen covering the gun had spotted him, and now their combined fire chipped stone splinters off the bench. Nick kept his head low and belly-crawled to the other end of the bench.

  He heard a cry of pain, and suddenly the rebel gun stopped firing. The Star Marine guns did not—they continued to pour lead into the bandstand, which was now beginning to burn from the tracers.

  The rebel gun opened up again. The first gunner must have been hit, but had been replaced. Nick risked a peek over the top of the bench, but ducked again as the riflemen spotted him and resumed fire. He lay face down for a moment, panting. He blew breath through puffed cheeks, waiting, and the minute they held their fire, he popped up and fired three quick rounds. He saw one rifleman fall as he dropped down again, but one was still there—and kept firing at Nick.

  Nick lay still again, waiting. Suddenly it dawned on him that the stone bench was starting to disintegrate under the steady impact of rifle slugs. The base was solid stone, but the seat and back were fragmenting. The bench would be gone soon, and the base alone wasn’t much cover. He looked around for someplace to go, then realized he was backlit by a streetlight on the pedestrian walk just twenty yards away. Without hesitation, he rolled over and fired a round through the light, exploding it. The ground behind him lapsed into darkness.

  With slugs whizzing over his head, he began to crawl toward the street. After ten or twelve yards he looked around, and though he could still see the bandstand, he was pretty sure the rebels could no longer see him.

  The bandstand was burning, but the rebel gun was still firing; the rifleman, no longer sure that Nick was still alive, had stopped shooting. Nick changed direction and crawled another six yards to the nearest tree. Once behind it, he stood up and surveyed the situation. He could see four men now; two were sprawled grotesquely on the platform, another was manning the gun, and one was cowering against the heavy .49 cal slugs from Star Marine machine guns. He also noted that the enemy gun had been set up behind what looked like a solid steel plate, protecting the gunner from the waist down. Sparks ricocheted off it in a continuous whine.

  Nick took careful aim, then squeezed off two quick shots. The rifleman dropped. The rebel gunner, suddenly aware that he was alone, panicked. He released the firing grips and scrambled to his feet, obviously intending to make a break for it. Before he could reach edge of the bandstand platform, Nick dropped him with a round through his head. Nick waited and watched in case there were others, but nothing on or around the bandstand was moving. Fire was climbing the wooden roof supports and the latticed canopy above it was starting to blaze, casting light for several yards around the bandstand.

  Nick chinned his helmet mike.

  “Sergeant, you can cease fire now. The enemy gun is out of action. I count four rebels down.”

  DuBose replied with the frustrated anxiety of a parent whose child has run away and just been located—do you hug him or scold him?

  “Walker, you fucking idiot—are you okay?”

  “Yeah, Sergeant, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. How’ve you been?”

  “You motherfucker! When I get my hands on you…”

  Nick didn’t hear the rest. Directly south of him, the city hall suddenly erupted in a series of grenade blasts and chattering weapons—Hotel Company was finally getting into action. He could see flashes through its windows, though the interior was dark and he couldn’t tell who was killing whom. He saw two squads of Star Marines running west along the front of the building, apparently hoping to flank the rebels inside. Before they reached halfway down the building, he was startled by a blast of fire behind him. He hit the ground hard and swiveled around to see two machine guns firing from the windows of the library. To his left, another gun was firing from a corner window in the police station. Streams of tracer streaked through the park to converge on the pedestrian walk in front of the city hall.

  With pounding heart, Nick turned back in time to see at least four Hotel Company men cut down in their tracks. The rest scattered, several running into the park for cover. Two more were hit, but the rest reached the relative safety of the park’s comforting darkness.

  “Did you see that, Sergeant? You’ve got to clear those buildings to your right. Anybody on the ground is dead meat until you do.”

  “We see it, Walker. Second Platoon is on its way.”

  “Well, that’s just fucking great. Timing is everything, eh?”

  DuBose ignored that.

  “Are you in a safe place?”

  “Me? Oh, sure. Just taking a walk in the park.”

  “Keep your head down. The sleds are about to make a run on that library.”

  “Don’t forget the police station. The library is a tough nut, but the police station looks like P-guns might bring it down. Maybe the brass would like to rethink that strategy.”

  DuBose said something in reply, but Nick couldn’t make it out. As he crawled into better position between two trees, two gunsleds dove on the library, spitting laser light into the windows. The laser bolts couldn’t penetrate the granite walls, but the windows shattered and one of the guns fell silent. The sleds danced and darted, making repeated passes. It was hard to tell how effective their fire was, but at least the rebel fire stopped during their attack. They also made a pass on the police station, momentarily silencing that position.

  As the sleds withdrew, Nick saw two squads of 2nd Platoon, who had recently assaulted the high school, advancing down the pedestrian walk in his direction. The first building on that side was a municipal office building; one squad flung grenades through the windows, then surged up the steps to the main door. Four men disappeared inside and Nick heard the confused chatter of rifles and the roar of more grenades. Six more raced up the steps to join them, but at that moment another machine gun opened up from the south end of the square, raking them with heavy slugs. Nick saw one man fall and five others dive for cover. He twisted around and looked for the source of the fire—it was coming from the second floor of the city hall, where Hotel Company was still fighting for the bottom floor.

  “Jesus, fuck!” he whispered. Crossfire from every direction!

  He chinned his mike to call DuBose, but before he could say anything, two of the four machine guns that had chewed the bandstand apart swiveled and opened fire, concentrating on the upper window where the rebel gun was winking. The other two began raking the office building where six Star Marines still sprawled on the wide front steps. Nick felt sweat run into his eyes—the night had suddenly gotten a lot louder.

  From inside the office building, another grenade roared, blowing glass and furniture fragments out the windows. Someone screamed, and suddenly a Star Marine staggered out the front door in a boiling cloud of smoke, dragging another man with him. Both were wounded and one might have been dead, but it was impossible to tell. Nick watched in helpless horror. Bullets from the city hall still ripped into the wide stone steps that fronted the office building. Two more men had been hit, and three others tried to escape to the park in a stumbling run. Before they reached it, another fell face-first on the cobbled walk and lay still.

  “Goddammit! FUCK!”

  Nick slammed his rifle to his shoulder and took aim at the office building, but had no target. He swiveled to fire at the city hall, but if two machine guns c
ouldn’t silence that gun, his fire would likely have little effect. He lowered his rifle and looked around, desperate to shoot at something, but the enemy was barricaded behind stone and marble. He now wished DuBose or Jaeger would send 3rd Platoon to assist, but checked the thought—adding more naked bodies to the shooting gallery would only help the enemy. The assault on the square had barely gotten off the ground and was already stalled. This was turning into a disaster.

  He saw two Star Marines moving through the park in his general direction, men who were wounded or lost or both. It occurred to him that they probably didn’t know he was there, and might think he was a rebel. He needed to alert them before they fired on him, but how?

  Before he came up with an answer, two more guns opened up on the park, these from the library just forty yards north of him. He watched in horror as brilliant tracers blitzed into the park, heard one Star Marine grunt in pain, and saw another dive for cover. Without thinking, he opened fire on the nearest window. This one wasn’t barred or barricaded, and he poured five rounds through it. The gun fell silent. He shifted to the second and pulled the trigger, but his rifle clicked on an empty chamber. He had forgotten to change magazines.

  He ducked back behind the two trees and quickly slammed a fresh magazine into place, but before he could do more, the remaining machine gun swiveled in his direction. Bullets chewed into the slender tree next to him, ripping the trunk apart. As the tree splintered and toppled, he rolled around behind the other one, bullets ripping the ground next to him.

  Vip-vip-vip-vip-vip!

  A second stream passed inches over his head, sounding like hornets on steroids. Panting with fear, he closed his eyes and froze, hoping they would stop.

  Ready to die, Walker? Looks like tonight may be your chance.

  The library gun ceased firing, giving Nick a chance to swallow in relief. He chinned his mike again.

  “Sergeant…”

  “Walker! Talk to me! Are you hit?”

  “I don’t think so, but goddammit, you’ve got to get some kind of H.E. on those government buildings! If they won’t authorize P-guns, then bring the sleds back.”