by Daniel Gibbs
Then the ship’s defenders let loose.
Massed energy weapon fire crisscrossed the area directly in front of Calvin and the VBSS team. One unlucky Marine was caught in three beams at once, his armor pierced and broken. He collapsed.
“Cover! Cover! Lay down covering fire now!” Calvin roared as he brought his battle rifle and fired blindly into what lay beyond the opening. After two three-round bursts, he switched to full auto and emptied the magazine. Other members of the team did the same, backed by a Marine who carried the squad automatic weapon—an upgraded machine gun with uranium depleted bullets for armor-piercing—until the incoming fire slackened. He bounded forward, grabbed his fallen teammate, and dragged him back, out of the fight. “Corpsman! I need a corpsman over here, now!” Glancing down at the melted power armor, he popped the helmet off, revealing the severely wounded man within. Blood trickled out of his mouth.
“This sucks, Colonel,” the young man rasped. “Getting killed by some piece of shit drug dealer?”
Calvin stared into his eyes. “Stow that talk, Marine. Don’t you dare die on me, that’s an order.”
A corpsman came up behind and put his hand on Calvin’s shoulder. He kneeled and began to check vitals while running a handheld medical scanner over the fallen man.
“How’s it look?” Calvin whispered under his breath.
The corpsman shook his head as he bit his lip.
Calvin had been a Marine for a long time. He knew what the look meant. Not going home alive.
“I can’t feel my legs, Colonel.”
“You hang on, son. Help’s on the way.”
The young man reached up and grabbed Calvin’s arm. “I’m scared, sir.” His breathing became more labored as his vitals slipped.
Each death means something. Something about his words cut through the armor around Calvin’s heart. He glanced down to see a Christian emblem below that of the United States on the shoulder of his fallen Marine’s power armor. “Would you like to pray?”
“Are you a chaplain too, sir?” the youngster asked with something approaching a grin, even in light of the dire circumstances.
Calvin’s voice broke as he replied, “Nah. Just a Marine. What’s your name, son?”
“Andy,” he said, voice weak and soft.
“Okay, Andy. Here goes. Lord, I ask you to look after the soul of this man. He served his duty with honor, putting his life on the life for his fellow Marines and those who we protect. Please take him into Your everlasting life and wash away his sins.” Not a particularly good prayer.
It was then Calvin realized Andy’s breathing had stopped.
“I’m sorry, sir. He’s gone.”
Calvin glanced up and made eye contact with the corpsman. “You did what you could.” With a grim face, he stood as the rage within him built. Seizing the battle rifle hanging off its one-point sling, he dropped the magazine filled with stun rounds out, replacing it with live ammunition. He did the same for his sidearm. Fire shone in his eyes as he turned toward the opening. “We’re done screwing with these bastards. Live ammo Marines, follow me!”
While the rest of the VBSS exchanged glances at the sudden change in orders, Calvin strode forward like a man possessed. He pulled two fragmentation grenades off his belt, removed the pins, and tossed them through the opening. Two muffled explosions later, and with no thought to his personal safety, he charged through the opening, rifle at the ready. The first man to stand in his way was cut down with a short burst, his body shoved out of the way like a sack of potatoes.
The rest of the team came flying through where the hatch had stood, adding their fire to the cacophony of combat. Numerous cartel gunmen were cut down before the final few threw down their weapons.
During the combat, Calvin ran out of ammunition in his battle rifle and switched to his pistol. He found himself face to face with one of the final enemies left standing—directly to his front.
The man quivered as he stared down the barrel of the pistol.
Calvin’s finger rested on the trigger. His mind raced as he considered squeezing it and sending a final round into the man’s head. They killed my Marine. None of them deserve to live. Another side of his mind replied, It’s not my choice! He surrendered. I have to let the system run its course. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw other gunmen, lined up with their hands high, the rest of the team holding them at gunpoint as well. If I kill this man, I tell everyone under me it’s acceptable to murder a prisoner. I know it’s not. I am a better man than that. The pistol lowered slowly. “Cuff ‘em all. Then get them the hell out of my sight.”
“Aye aye, sir!” one of the enlisted Marines shouted in reply, and the rest moved to comply.
While Calvin pondered if he’d made the right call through waves of anger, a voice seemingly came from nowhere. It took him a moment to realize it was coming through the ship’s intercom. “Attention, Terran Coalition soldiers. Can you hear me?”
“We’re not soldiers, you idiot,” he replied. “We’re Marines.”
“My apologies,” the voice continued. “I’m not clear on your customs.”
“What the hell do you want?” Calvin snapped.
“I’d like to propose a deal.”
“Is that a fact? How about this… throw down your weapons and I’ll promise you the rest of your miserable lives will be spent performing hard labor.”
“My fellows and I have little interest living out our days on a prison asteroid, mining lithium for your war effort.”
“Don’t have much else to offer you.”
“Well, I have something for you. Edward Feldt.”
Calvin licked his lips and stopped moving. “Okay. You got my attention, Mister?”
“Jacob Aquino.”
“Okay, Jacob. I want proof you have Feldt. Then we can talk turkey.”
“We’re in the next compartment. I had to wait until you took most of the loyalists.”
Calvin exchanged a glance with another Marine. “Cold bastard, aren’t you?”
“We do what we must to survive, Mister?”
“Demood. Colonel Calvin Demood.”
A hatch at the far end of the passageway clanged open, leading the Marines to raise their rifles and aim down the corridor.
“Hold your fire!” Aquino called out as he and another man pushed a struggling human male forward, who was cursing and screaming at the top of his lungs.
“I’m going to kill you all! You can’t stop me!”
Aquino punched him in the face, temporarily stopping the rantings. “May I present Edward Feldt, Colonel Demood?”
Calvin took a step forward as he lowered his pistol. “Well, I’ll be damned. The spooks are going to be happy to get their hands on him. Before we send him on to Lambert’s Lament.”
“What about our deal?”
“I don’t recall a deal,” Calvin said as he suppressed a smirk.
Aquino bunched his eyebrows together and stared straight ahead. “You think we’re all monsters.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. I think anyone who involves themselves with a murderer pushing drugs across the galaxy deserves what’s coming to them.”
“It’s not that simple, Colonel. This man… he makes us believe he cares about the common man. Has us do odd jobs for him. Oh, they have illegalities in those little jobs. But nothing major. Then we get brought on board. He make us choose one person from our close family and friends.” Aquino stopped and began to weep. “Then he kills them.”
Maybe I should waste Feldt instead. No, I’m not the judge, jury, and executioner. “That’s sick.”
“It’s about control,” Feldt interjected, raising his head and spitting out blood. “You’re all so pathetic. Your Terran Coalition values, your belief in an invisible man in the sky. There is no God, no heaven or hell. Only the lives we create for ourselves matter.”
Calvin narrowed his eyes. “Every once in a while, I meet a Leaguer who I realize is a decent man. Hell, I might even kick back a be
er with ‘em. You? I would thoroughly enjoy shooting you dead. Where you’re going, though? It’ll be worse than death.”
One of the men in the passageway that lay beyond the hatch they’d gathered at screamed out, “You should have at least let us take our revenge! You didn’t have the right to turn him over, Aquino!”
Shifting his stance to peer beyond Feldt and his two minders, Calvin grunted. “How many people you got back there?”
“Three dozen, give or take. The rest was fanatically loyal to our dear leader and you handled them.”
All these guys are messed up. I can see it in his eyes. “Tell you what. My guys and I, we’re going to haul these prisoners back to the shuttle and come back. It’ll take oh, ten minutes. If Mister Feldt here were to trip and say, fall on his face… I wouldn’t have a problem with that outcome. You get my drift?”
“I think I do, Colonel.”
“Just remember, no Feldt, no deal. You all end up in a microgravity prison for the rest of your lives. Clear?”
The criminal broke into a cold grin. “Quite clear, señor.”
“Good. It’s settled, then. See you in ten minutes.” Calvin turned on his heel and walked away with the rest of the boarding team, pushing the prisoners out in front. The sound of a fist hitting flesh, followed by a muted yelp from Feldt filled his ears. I probably shouldn’t let them do it. Ah hell, once he gets a lawyer, we’ll never get anything out of him. Another side of his brain complained it was improper to allow the man to be beaten, but he shoved it down. I better hope the colonel doesn’t find out about this.
As the Alpha team assault shuttle soared above Gilead en route to the Terran Coalition embassy, David heard the voice of MacDonald in his headset. “Colonel, you might want to come up here.”
The rest of the commandos were resting or talking quietly to each other after the op. They seemed to have a combat ritual all their own.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” he groused as he pulled the straps back that kept him locked in place in the cargo bay, stretching his aching legs. Angie would tell me I’m getting too old for this. She’s probably right. David suppressed a grin and made his way to the cockpit of the shuttle; it was occupied solely by the pilot and MacDonald.
“Take the jump seat, Colonel. I’ve got the Lion of Judah on comms. They wanted to talk to you.”
With a bit of a flourish, David pulled the spare seat down and slid into it before staring directly ahead, into the holocamera. “Major Hanson, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, sir. Glad to see you’re doing good.”
“Not sure I’d say good, but I’m alive.”
“Agent Eldred?”
“She’s in one piece too. She remained on-site with a bunch of Gilead federal police types that arrived out of nowhere. Now on to important matters, namely, did you get Feldt? And is the paint on my ship scratched?” David finished his last question with a slight lilt to his voice and a broad grin.
“We got him, sir. His ship gave us fits, but in the end, it wasn’t a match for the Lion. Colonel Demood is hauling Feldt back now. I understand he’s a bit banged up, but he’ll live.”
David chuckled. “Make sure he doesn’t accidentally trip on his way into our brig. Any casualties?”
“One Marine KIA, sir.”
The news immediately sobered David’s expression. Another letter to write to a grieving family. “Understood. Regain orbit and I’ll be back in another day or so. A few loose ends to tie off with Gilead’s government.”
“Roger, sir.”
“What about Lieutenant Taylor?”
“Still in a coma, last I checked. Doctor Tural will alert us if there’s any change.”
God, please look over him. “Thanks, Major. I’ll be back in touch soon. Godspeed.”
“Godspeed, sir. Hanson out.”
David sat back in the mesh jump seat, putting his hands at his side and closing his eyes. Always another battle to fight and a foe to confront.
MacDonald’s voice interrupted his mental reverie. “You did well down there for a cake eater, sir.”
Letting out a laugh, David opened his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Master Chief.”
“As it was meant. Got any plans once we get to our destination?”
“Oh, we have a few last things to accomplish before dusting off tomorrow. I’d like Alpha team to stick around with us. Any issues?”
“As long as you get us some nice bachelor officers’ quarters accommodations, we’ll do just about anything. Oh, and some decent grub.”
“Done, Master Chief.”
“One tier-one operator team, at your service, sir.”
“I’ll even toss in the round of beer.”
MacDonald roared with laughter. “You’ve found the way to our hearts, Colonel!”
The shuttle flew on.
28
This will be among the smartest things I’ve done in a while, or the dumbest. Kenneth paused outside the office door. A small, nondescript sign next to it was marked “Korra Wallace, SUPSPACE QA Director.” There’s a reason why I’ve never fished off the company pier. They’d dated for six months, when he ultimately broke it off. The aftermath left them both in a strange place. He’d avoided her side of the shipyard with an almost religious-like focus. Forcing himself to knock on the door, he waited.
“Come in!” Korra yelled from behind the closed door.
Kenneth turned the handle and pushed it open to find her sitting at her desk. Similar to his own, all offices on the base were virtually identical and lacking in character.
A short woman in her mid-thirties, Korra glanced up at him with a visible double-take. She pushed a wisp of brown hair out of her greenish-brown eyes, and they flashed anger. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you,” Kenneth replied as he held up the two tablets he was carrying and walked into the room, closing the door behind him.
“There’s nothing to say. I thought I’d made it clear the last time we saw each other to stay away from me.”
“Korra, I’m not here to discuss our personal situation—”
“We don’t have a personal situation,” she snapped, her eyes flashing as her face turned red. “You saw to that with your obsessive work habits and inability to even stop for an hour to spend time with me. All you care about is work!”
Kenneth glanced at the floor. I know she’s right. “I don’t want to argue.”
“I deserved more from you.”
Raising his head, he looked into her eyes. “Look, you want to beat up on me? Fine. I suck at relationships. I’m focused on work. It’s my contribution to the war, one I feel I have to make because I wasn’t at the sharp tip of the spear. Do I overdo it? You bet. Am I sorry about how things ended? Yes. I can’t change it, and I didn’t want to come in here, but you’re the only person I can think of to ask for help.”
“Oh, so I’m your last resort?”
“Yeah.”
“Get out,” she spat.
“Please—”
“Get out.”
Kenneth turned around and stuck his hand out to open the door before he stopped. “Korra…”
“Goodbye, Kenneth.”
He set his jaw and turned around. “Damnit, Korra, do your job. I have a QA complaint. Set aside your dislike for me and listen.”
“It’s always about the job to you.”
“Right now, yes, it is. The ships we’re working on are needed for the war effort. Guilty as charged. It’s the biggest thing in my life and my sole focus.”
“Fine,” she said finally, grating the word out. “What do you have?”
“I’ve discovered my company is slow-walking the reactor refit work on the mothball fleet.”
Korra’s eyes narrowed, and she stared at him. “That’s a pretty serious accusation. Can you prove it?”
“Since when do I say things I can’t back up?” Kenneth replied, his ego creeping out a hair.
“You don’t want an honest ans
wer to that question,” she replied, a bit of a smirk spreading across her face. “I assume you have documentation?”
“I work for the government. So, of course. In triplicate. I also have emails where a senior vice president in the company ordered project leads to slow the work down, indicating since it’s a cost-plus contract, we should make the cost as high as possible.”
“Contractors do things like this all the time.”
“If the fleet doesn’t get these ships, the invasion could stall.”
She made a halfhearted reach for the tablet. “Always a crusade with you, Kenneth.”
Right again. Maybe that’s why I quit dating her. “An idle mind is the devil’s workshop. I need something to do, after all.”
“Don’t you have something else in life besides work?”
Kenneth paused for a moment, thinking the question through. “No, not really.”
“Doesn’t it bother you on some level?”
“I never stop long enough to think about it.”
“Sounds like a lonely life, Kenneth.”
He shrugged. “Maybe, but it’s my life. I’ve dedicated it to service to my country through whatever means I have at my disposal.”
Silence reigned as she turned the tablet on and stared at it. To say Kenneth was uncomfortable would be the understatement of all understatements. Forcing his brain to stay on point—deal with Casey and his attempts to defraud the government—he avoided the question of why he was so focused on work to the detriment of everything else.
“You’ve got something here,” Korra finally said as she glanced up from the screen. “But are you sure you want me to go after SSI? It’ll get messy.”
“Just keep my name out of it,” Kenneth replied. “Casey will suspect I turned them in, but if he can’t prove it, they won’t fire me. Too many whistleblower protections.”
Letting the tablet drop onto her desk, Korra stared at him, an incredulous look on her face. “You’re going to stay?”
“Someone has to look out for my people.”
“It’s a job, Kenneth! You’re not in the military. No one’s getting shot or blown up. If it’s not a good fit, they can find a new position elsewhere. If someone wants to change companies, it takes five minutes to find something.”
