by Rick Shelley
Company commanders have their orders.” Colonel Laplace hesitated a moment, looking around the room.
“This should be an easy drill, men,” he said. “We have numbers, position, and no enemy air or heavy weapons to worry about. But don’t let anyone go cockofthewalk. The Feddies down there aren’t toy soldiers. Be careful. Let’s keep casualties to an absolute minimum.”
There were no concluding formalities. The colonel and his staff filed out of the room. The company commanders of the units that were making the landings headed for the sections of the mess hall where their sergeants were gathered. Only a few noncoms had to move. For the most part, they had clustered with others from their own companies.
“I&R platoon will be first down in the jungle,” was Captain McAuliffe’s first statement when he got to the HQ Company sergeants.
Tell me something I couldn’t guess, David thought.
“You’ll have the engineers just behind you,” McAuliffe continued. ‘ ‘H&S and Alpha Companies will hold the center of our line. Bravo and Charley will have the flanks. Delta will be our mobile reserve, back with the engineers.”
“Sir, is there room for the shuttles to actually land?” Sergeant Macdowell asked.
“Apparently not,” the captain replied. “The first units down will use ropes. The engineers will make a clearing to bring in their equipment, but that won’t be until after we establish our perimeter.”
“Sir, what’s the count on the opposition?” David asked.
“Intelligence is tracking 675 active helmets,” McAuliffe said. “A shorthanded battalion, if their TO is anything like ours.”
“And if they haven’t got more helmets to switch on when we’re not expecting them,” David said, and the captain nodded.
‘ ‘Always that chance, Spencer. A good point to bring up. As far as we know, there was only the one Feddie ship here, and that would put an upper cap of roughly ninehundred men they could have landed.
But don’t take even that figure as gospel. They’ve had time to position a reserve, even a whole company lying doggo to catch us by surprise.”
“If they have, my notion is that they’d most likely be somewhere in that jungle we’re jumping into,” David continued.
McAuliffe smiled. “So tell your lads to mind their arses. Besides, you’ll have the engineers behind you to worry about.” That brought a laugh from everyone sitting at the table and from the two lieutenants who stood flanking the company commander. Ezra Franklyn handled communications and operations, strictly a staff type. Manuel Boronski was titular platoon leader for both HQ and I&R platoons of First Battalion’s H&S Company. But since the company had only half its complement of officers and Boronski was also second in command, he was normally relegated to running the backup command post and communications node. Which left David Spencer to run I&R with little operational interference from Boronski, which suited them both.
“We’ll have air cover, won’t we, sir?” Lead Sergeant Landsford asked. He liked to get even the obvious questions answered.
” Sheffield will launch the lot from what I hear,” McAuliffe said. “Fire suppression ahead of us, close cover while we land, and whatever help we need from the plugheads after. Now you’d best hurry up and get to your men. They’re going to be getting right antsy.”
David gave his platoon a quick summary of their part in the coming operation, then led them to the armory for weapons and ammunition. He ordered a quick helmet check, to make sure that every man had a fully functional helmet while they waited to be summoned to their shuttle.
“By squads now, lads. Squad leaders, make sure everybody’s got everything.” David walked the line of first squad, giving them a quick inspection—functional, not decorative. When he got to Jacky White, David gave him a grin and slapped his shoulder.
“Jacky, I don’t know that we’ll get the chance, but if any Federation blokes come our way, remember, they’re the ones keeping you here.”
Jacky managed a weak smile. “I’ve been trying to see it like that. Heaven help any of that lot who get in my way.”
“That’s the way, lad.”
Second and Third Battalions were called to their shuttles.
Then First Battalion’s I&R platoon. They would be the first unit down east of the settlements.
“What if they come after us straightaway, don’t give the rest time to land?” Alfie asked. “The lads on the other side of the river won’t do us a bit of good if all them Feddie blokes dash straight for us.”
“Just hope nobody notices we’re there in all the bother,” David said.
14
The soft knock on his door woke Ian instantly. “Ohfourhundred, sir,” the orderly said. “The admiral left word to be called at 0430. Landing operations are about to begin.”
“Thank you,” Ian said. He had left his own “night orders” with the duty officer, to be wakened thirty minutes before Admiral Truscott. “Would you wake the Duke of Haven, and give him the same message?”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Ian took a couple of deep breaths and got out of bed, amazed that he had managed any sleep at all. He even felt curiously refreshed. Excited, he decided. Despite everything, I’m actually looking forward to this operation. At least there had been no further nightmares once he returned to bed.
He hurried through his normal morning routine, wanting to be ready for the day before the admiral was wakened. As soon as he was dressed, Ian went to the flag wardroom for coffee and buttered toast—just enough to postpone any hunger pangs, not enough to spoil his appetite in case the admiral wanted his company for a full breakfast. Prince William came into the wardroom just as Ian was beginning to eat.
“We get an early start, no?” the prince asked. He sat across the table from Ian, and the mess steward came to take his order.
“Apparently,” Ian replied. “I haven’t seen any operations orders. The admiral must have done it all during the night.”
“I assume he does sleep occasionally.”
“Sometimes I wonder,” Ian said. “When his mind is really going on a project, he can get by for days with only an occasional catnap.”
“My brother Henry is much the same,” William said. He normally avoided references to the king, and especially avoided using the title. ‘ ‘He gets a bug in his bonnet and he’s a veritable dynamo. I think that’s one reason I stay away from court as much as possible. You might find this hard to believe, but there have been many occasions when I seriously considered emigrating to some frontier world and making a place for myself.”
“I seem to recall that it’s been done a few times before by members of your family,” Ian said.
“Ah, a historian as well.” William chuckled softly. The mess steward brought his breakfast and left. “Yes, it’s been done, perhaps more often than you realize. One might almost say that the founding of the Second Commonwealth itself resulted from that sort of wanderlust. Buckingham might well drown in royalty if some of us didn’t move offworld now and again.”
Ian smiled politely, then decided to risk another sally. “I recall a report that stated that sixty percent of the children born on Buckingham can already claim some relationship to the royal family.”
The prince nearly choked on his tea, the laughter sprang out so quickly. He set the cup down and brought a napkin to his mouth, staring at Ian over the napkin for a moment.
“You do have your moments, don’t you?” he asked when he took the napkin away from his mouth. There was a smile on his face. “You caught me properly with that one.”
Ian’s smile was tentative. “Part of the job description. You do know that the position of aide can be traced to medieval court jesters on Earth?”
William was ready for that one. “And you see yourself as a throwback to your primal roots?”
“Touche,” Ian admitted with a laugh.
“Actually,” William said, “if you stretch the genealogies back to the founding of Buckingham, the percentage related to the
royal family would probably be much higher. Luckily for everyone, there are limits to how far relationship carries.”
“Sometimes.” Ian raised his cup as if in salute.
“Ah, well, we’d best get a move on or the admiral will think we’re sleeping in.”
Ian glanced at his watch and took one final gulp of coffee. “You’re right. The orderly will be knocking at his door any second now.”
“I’ll see you on the flag bridge,” William said as Ian got up from the table. “I’ll be along soon.”
Ian went directly to the flag bridge. If the admiral wanted him, the word would go there. If there were no earlier call, Ian would go to the admiral’s cabin fifteen minutes after the wakeup call. That would give Truscott his usual time to start preparing for the day. While he waited, Ian scanned the orders that the admiral had issued for the day’s operations. There wasn’t time for a detailed reading, but Ian knew enough about the admiral’s style to glean the essentials quickly.
“Cautious,” Ian mumbled when he saw the extent of the operation. In these circumstances, that was a word of approval.
” Victoria has her first landing boats ready to go, sir.” the duty officer told Ian. “We have Spacehawks on the match as well.”
Ian nodded. “The boss had a busy night.”
“Sure looks that way,” the duty officer agreed. “Word is, he did it all himself, right down to writing the orders.”
“If anyone in the fleet could do it, he could,” Ian said. That wasn’t merely loyalty; it was Ian’s honest opinion.
The tech at the communications console looked up. “Commander Shrikes, the admiral wants you in his day cabin.”
Truscott was already dressed when Ian got there. “Have you seen the orders?” the admiral asked.
“Just had time to skim them, sir.”
“Put everything we could into this, Ian. The more we use going in, the less it should cost. Now, everything depends on how well we perform, how fiercely the Federation troops resist.”
“Knowing they’ve been abandoned ought to hurt their morale,” Ian said.
Truscott frowned. He had no quarrel with the decision made by the Federation captain. In similar circumstances, Truscott knew he would make the same decision. “Not as badly as if we’d managed to destroy that ship. This way, they can hope for reinforcements if they hold out long enough.”
“You don’t think they can hold out that long, do you, sir?”
“If we can’t reduce a short battalion with a full regiment of Marines and Sheffield’s fighter wing before that Cutter class can fetch support, you may have to tie me to a chair to keep me from exploding.”
“They’re cut off, with a hostile population around them, and us moving in. I wouldn’t want to be in that position,” Ian said.
“Nor would I,” Truscott agreed. “But the Federation is used to imposing itself on unwilling hosts.”
“Would you like your breakfast on the bridge, or in here?” Ian asked.
‘ ‘On the flag bridge, and no more than a cup of tea just now. I’ll eat later, perhaps. It’s just about that time.”
15
The ride down was rough for David Spencer and his platoon. The men were packed shoulder to shoulder in the shuttle. Lap straps were scarcely necessary once the shuttle got low enough for gravity to hold the men in place. David kept his eyes on a panel at the front of the compartment. During the descent, a large red light burned. Once they reached three thousand feet, a yellow light came on below it.
“Release safety belts,” David shouted. “Ready to stand to the ramp. Look and make sure you’re wearing your gloves.”
Four reels were recessed into the floor of the compartment, forward of the hatch that would drop to form a short ramp. As soon as the hatch opened, the ropes would be unreeled and the thirtytwo men would rappel to the ground. With any real luck, their descent would only be thirty feet. That depended on how precise the pilots were in finding their assigned drop zone. There wouldn’t be time to look for a better spot if the first was bad.
The shuttle’s rockets went into full reverse thrust, then died as the craft switched to jets. The angle on the jets was changed to slide the ungainly craft into a hover. As a green light replaced the red and yellow, a siren sounded and the ramp was dropped.
“Stand to the ramp!” David shouted as winches uncoiled the ropes. “Go! Go! Go!”
The men started down. David moved near the head of the line on the closest rope and was third down it.
Sergeant Hugo Kassner, third squad leader and the secondranking noncom in the platoon, would be the last man out of the shuttle.
Getting the line coiled around his waist and legs was almost automatic. David checked his grip and dropped off the ramp. The greatest danger, other than the chance of hostile fire, was building up too much speed on the rappel. Over any major distance, friction could burn through the best gloves or leave a man with too much momentum for a safe landing.
Thirty feet? The pilots had struck gold. There were only twenty feet above a small clearing.
Even on the way (town, David was broadcasting orders, linking with the first men down, directing them out from the drop zone to form an initial perimeter. He hit the ground, moved away from the ropes, and took cover. He scanned the vicinity to verify the information being relayed from the shuttle’s detectors, that there were no enemy forces on this side of the river… that there were no active enemy electronics within a onemile radius. He had to remind himself of the distinction.
As more men came down, David directed them to positions on the perimeter, and widened the diameter, stretching the circle toward the river and Buchanan’s two settlements. The shuttle was a deafening shadow overhead, but—comfortingly—there was no enemy fire coming in.
The last men came down. “You’re clear, we’re off,” the pilot reported to David. “Good luck. Kick some butt.”
“If they leave us any,” David replied. “Thanks for the nde.”
The shuttle slid away horizontally, getting clear of the men on the ground before it climbed for altitude, then switched to rockets for the burn that would carry it back to Victoria. They might have to make as many as six more round trips to get everyone to the ground.
David clicked his complink over to the noncom frequency to confer with the squad leaders. “Get out your mapboards.”
The mapboard was a specialized complink, a twelveinch flatscreen that folded in thirds to fit in a pocket, less than a quarterinch thick folded. The maps were centered on the location of the platoon, and carried all of the data available to the main computers on the ships above. The scale could be adjusted from a distant view that would encompass the entire planet, down to a detailed scale of one inch to fifty feet. The map was photographic, enhanced by a variety of overlays, with red lights to show the position of active enemy electronics—mostly helmets—and green lights to show the position of friendly forces.
“No surprises,” Hugo said after he had time to scan his. “Looks like the main landing is on schedule.”
“Right, so let’s not get our schedule out of whack,” David said. ‘ ‘Put a fire team out on each flank until the rest of our lads and Alpha get down. Use fourth squad for that. Take your squad to check out the rear. See if you can spot anything to help Delta and the engineers. I’ll keep first and second squads here.”
So this is Buchanan, David thought as the squads started to move on their assignments. He looked out at the terrain rather than at the display on his helmet visor. The clearing was covered with soft, groundhugging shrubbery—long, tangled vines, thin and flexible. Around the clearing were several different types of trees. None looked particularly familiar, but David wouldn’t have recognized an apple tree unless he saw apples hanging from it.
There was little undergrowth beneath the trees, only a scattering of grass. There was also no immediate sign of wildlife, but that didn’t surprise him. The noise of the shuttle and the presence of so many intruders would likely silence
most animals for quite some time. There were animals, even fairly large ones, in the area. The close scans had shown thousands of bloated piglike aquatic or semiaquatic animals.
A call on the command frequency brought him back from his nature watch. The rest of H&S Company was coming in. And the first detachment of engineers was on final approach.
“How far east of us are they?” David asked. “I don’t show them.” He clicked through displays on his helmet. “Wait, there they are. They’re three miles from where they’re supposed to be.”
“Last minute change,” Captain McAuliffe said from his shuttle. “They spotted an easier site to knock down a landing strip. You’ll have to send a squad back to them. Delta won’t be down for another hour.”
“They’ll be on the ground long before we can reach them,” David said, “but we’re leaving now.”
“Link with them on this channel, Spencer.”
“Should we move our whole perimeter back?”
“Negative. The engineers will have to find a way to move their equipment up to the river.”
“You sound as if you doubt they can.” David was already drawing in first squad and moving the other squads to cover the gap.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” McAuliffe said.
David could see shuttles lining up to drop the rest of H&S Company as he explained to his men that they had to make a quick hike through the forest to find the new location that the engineers had decided on for their landing.
“Just going out of their way to foul things up,” Alfie said. “Engineers figure they know everything.”
“Captain sounded ticked about it too, Alfie,” David said. “Makes us no difference. We’ve still got to go back and hold their hands until they bring in the rest of their people. Zimmerman, you’ve got the point.
