by Rick Shelley
David Spencer’s platoon was operating in two sections. David had the first two squads on the right flank. Hugo Kassner had the rest on the left. Between them, the two line companies moved along a milewide front, covering as much of the terrain as they could. They were all moving northwest, toward Sam and Max, 150 miles away. The Marines averaged under two miles an hour. I&R platoon covered considerably more ground, zigzagging back and forth, planting snoopers out to the sides, plotting their courses as much by the intuition of their sergeants as by any set plan.
‘ ‘I look for spots where I might go to ground if I was on the other side,” David explained to Doug. “And we check any areas that the search shuttle reports are too densely wooded for its instruments to say for certain that it’s clear.”
“Even out here where you don’t think they could possibly be?”
David nodded. “Just in case the estimates are wrong. If the Feddies had a real bug up their backsides, they might have gone a lot farther and faster. I know we could have. If it had been this platoon, we could have been another thirty miles out.”
“Then are you worried that there might be enemy soldiers behind us?”
“Worried? No, not particularly. But aware. It’s possible, but not too likely,” David said. “We haven’t seen any trace of anyone this far out, and the combination of speed and stealth is the most difficult there is.”
During that conversation, a snooper was planted and the core of dirt scattered. “That’s another disadvantage they put themselves under, operating without electronics,” David explained. ‘ ‘A good helmet would spot a snooper long before a man could see it without help.”
This time, the team stopped for their rest fifty yards from the snooper, and discipline was tight. When they left, Doug could see nothing to give away the fact that men had ever been there, even briefly.
“Camouflaged ghosts,” Doug whispered as they moved off through the woods again. His radio transmitter was off, so no one could hear his comment. “The ultimate invisibles.” His reaction to that image surprised him, an eerie feeling that seemed to crawl up and down his spine.
“We’re what?” David said into his microphone when Lieutenant Colonel Zacharia gave him the news.
“You’re going to have visitors,” Zacharia repeated. “Prince William, along with Commander Shrikes, the admiral’s aide, and a squad of Marines off Sheffield.”
“How can we complete our mission with them along?” David asked. “This isn’t supposed to be a tea party.”
“No, it’s not,” Zacharia agreed, “and it won’t be. His Highness and Commander Shrikes have both gone through our commando school. So have the Marines who’ll be down with them. Don’t expect any less from them than you would from your own men. This is political, Spencer. Your Buchananer requested more information about joining the Commonwealth, and His Highness is coming down to talk with him.”
“Can’t you head this off, sir?” David pleaded. “We’ll need a month to work our way to the towns with extra baggage.”
“Nothing I can do, Spencer. This comes directly from Admiral Truscott. And do try to be civil. Prince William has a smashing opinion of you lot. He’s already written a personal commendation for one of your lads. Don’t sour his impression. He’s on the Privy Council, and that means he has a finger on the purse strings for the RM.”
“Yes, sir. We’ll do what we can.”
“The quicker you can make time for them to talk without jeopardizing your mission, the quicker the prince will be able to return to Sheffield, if you catch my drift.”
“Aye, sir,” David said. “When will they be coming in?”
“As I understand it, they’re leaving Sheffield now. Alpha Company is securing a landing zone. You’ll have to collect them after they touch down. Lieutenant Ewing will contact you when he knows how soon.”
I can hardly wait, David thought, but he merely acknowledged the information and switched channels.
Ewing was waiting to hear from him.
“The shuttle will be on the ground in thirty minutes.”
“I’ll be there to collect them, sir,” David promised.
“Tory!” David called over the squad leaders’ frequency. “Take over the squads. I’ve got to go back and pick up visitors.”
“Visitors?” Kepner asked. “Who’s coming?” And after David told him, his only comment was, “Tell me you’re joshing!”
“I wish I could,” David admitted. “I’ll take Doug with me. We’ll collect them and get back as soon as we can.”
“This wasn’t my idea, David,” Doug said as he hurried to keep up on the way to the rendezvous. “I had no idea the prince was coming until twenty minutes ago. I never dreamed he’d think of something like this.”
“Royalty,” David said. “I guess they’re just like officers, only more so. Trust ‘em to do the most inconvenient thing possible, give you a mission and then make it more difficult.”
“They must have considerable faith in you and your men, or they’d scarcely risk your king’s brother out here.”
That mollified David, but only briefly. “Not necessarily. Prince William is so far removed from the throne that he might be considered expendable.”
“That seems rather a… a cavalier attitude.”
David shrugged. “Man’s got a right to his opinions. It’s just a bloody nuisance, having people like that to nursemaid.”
“Or people like me?” Doug asked, and David stopped walking.
“You’re different. You showed that you’ve got the instincts.”
“But not the training,” Doug reminded him. “You said that yourself. I was told that the prince and the other officer have had the training.”
That stopped David. “Okay, you’re right. I’ll reserve judgement. Perhaps they can find their way between two trees.” He shook his head. “Old habits die hard. The prince seems a right sort, from what you and the others who met him told me.”
“That’s the impression I had,” Doug said. “I took to him straightaway.”
“Okay, let’s collect them,” David said, setting off again. “The sooner we get you folks together, the sooner you’ll finish.”
Ten men came off of the shuttle at the double, all armed and in full battle kit, moving as if they were the first forces down in a hostile zone. There was no way to tell who was who among them. That’s a good sign, David allowed as he waited at the edge of the clearing.
Two men separated themselves from the rest after the entire group was far enough away from the shuttle to let it take off. David tilted his visor up and walked toward them. Doug followed, raising his visor only after he saw David with his up. The two men from the newly arrived group also lifted visors.
“I certainly didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Doug told Prince William, “nor in quite these surroundings.”
“No call to put these things off indefinitely,” William said.
“This is Sergeant David Spencer,” Doug said.
“Your Highness,” David said with a nod.
“And this is Commander Ian Shrikes,” William said with an equal bow. “Sergeant. I met some of your lads in hospital the other day. Good men, all of them.”
“I think so, sir,” David replied.
“We’ll try to avoid causing you problems, Sergeant,” William said. “We might even manage to be of some assistance. Commander Shrikes and I both survived your Marine Commando School, as have all these lads the admiral sent along to be our minders.”
“I hope you’ve kept in tiptop shape, sir,” David said. “We move rather rapidly in I&R. Have to, since we cover more ground than the rest.”
“We’ll do our bit,” William assured him. “And if it comes to a fight, we do know how to use our weapons.”
David had already noticed those. Both men wore needle pistols at their waists and carried rifles of the same sort.
“Very well, sir. If you’re ready to go?”
“As you will, Sergeant. By the way, I believe I should in
troduce our senior minder, Sergeant Chou of the First Regiment.”
“Gaffer Chou?” David asked, looking toward the Marine who had moved up toward the prince.
“How come you’re not regimental sergeant major yet, David?” Chou asked, raising his visor.
“I don’t know. How come they haven’t retired you?” Chou had earned the nickname Gaffer when he was an eighteenyearold in boot camp. His squad mates had accused him of being an old man in disguise.
“I couldn’t stand the strain of retirement,” Chou replied. “I’m too used to showing up young pups like you.”
“You’ll get your chance on this stroll,” David promised. “Real dirt under your feet even.”
“Dirt’s softer than a ship’s deck, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Shouldn’t we be going?” Doug asked.
“Yes,” David said. “If you’ve got wind for conferences along the way, use auxiliary channel three.” He turned to the prince. ‘ ‘Your Highness?”
“Auxiliary three,” William said with a nod. “Very well, Sergeant. You’re in charge.”
David pushed the pace as he led the new group to join the first two squads of his platoon. There were no complaints, no sign that the pace was overtaxing any of the newcomers. The Marines from Sheffield moved professionally into field discipline, weapons ready, their own senses and the augmented sensors of their helmets tuned to the forest. Even the prince and Ian seemed to fit into the routine.
Maybe it won’t be so bad after all, David conceded as they neared the latest position of the first two squads. He got on the squad leaders’ frequency to alert Tory Kepner of their arrival.
After a short break, the three squads were ready to move again.
“The numbers are going to make this awkward,” David told Chou. Prince William, Ian, and Doug were on the channel as well. “We’ll continue normal operations. You follow along behind us. If we get into a jam, you’ll be in position to act as a reserve. You can jump in and be the heroes.”
“Whatever you say,” Chou replied. “We can save ourselves a few steps in the process.” He bowed to David.
“Doug, you can stick with them and carry on your chat if you get the chance. Not too loudly though, please.”
“I’m learning,” Doug reminded him. And, David had to admit, he was.
“If we get out of line, just give us a shout,” William said. “We’ll fit in our discussions as and when possible.”
“Yes, sir,” David said, still not totally convinced.
The forest gradually became more dense as the Marines worked their way northwest. The soil became darker, richer; the trees were closer together, with thick patches of underbrush, even brambles. The ground became more irregular, with poor footing. There were occasional creeks, but rarely more than a thin trickle of water.
As the forest became thicker, there were fewer paths to choose from. Any restriction of options made David nervous. It increased the odds of walking into a Federation ambush. The zigs and zags of David’s squads came farther apart and became more erratic. The pace slowed for the entire Marine detachment. Periodically, David pulled out his mapboard to check references. An empty blue diamond marked his position—more accurately, the position of his mapboard. A filled blue diamond marked the position of Hugo Kassner’s mapboard on the other flank. A thin blue line connected the positions of the mapboards active in the two line companies that were coming along behind and between the I&R advance. David had suppressed the display of blue dots that would have shown him each of the helmets on line.
Doug, Ian, and Prince William were in the middle of the squad of Marines from Sheffield. Their conversation was irregular, spaced as conditions permitted.
“I feel somewhat like a huckster at a fair,” William said at one point, ‘ ‘trying to get folks to come in for the freak show. I suppose the only real difference is that I believe in what I’m trying to sell.”
“We’re a cautious lot here,” Doug said a few minutes later. “We’ve been mostly alone since our ancestors first came to Buchanan. We’re all original families, which carries its own dangers, or will before many more generations pass. I think we’re all ready for more regular contacts with the rest of mankind. But we’re not much on buying next month’s eggs, if you know what I mean.”
“I think so,” the prince said. “But, in a way, more than half my job has already been done. You’ve seen how the Federation operates.”
The prince talked about the Second Commonwealth, its foundation, the basics of its government, the relationships among worlds, and so forth. Occasionally, Ian Shrikes added a comment, and—rather more frequently—the two men answered Doug’s questions.
“It still sounds like getting a lot of something for not much of anything in return,” Doug said during a midafternoon break. “Too good to be true.”
“The economics are there, Doug,” William assured him. “It’s the scale that makes it seem so odd. We can download solid examples to your datanet if you like, enough statistics to burn out a score of economists.”
“On Buchanan, an economist is merely someone who can figure out how many pounds of pork equal a barrel of ale.” Doug laughed soundlessly.
“And on an interplanetary scale, it might come to something like how many tons of nanotech installations equal the annual rent and maintenance for a Commonwealth University scientific observation station. All the same, one way or another.”
“Or how many colonists equal a local shuttle operation,” Ian added.
“I don’t imagine any of us would care to be flooded with umpteen thousands of new settlers, all at once,”
Doug said.
“Of course not. A flood of people would drown your resources, spin you into chaos,” William said. “The way of that would be to start small, slowly. As each group of new arrivals is integrated into your existing society, you’ll find you have the means to accept that many more the next time, and so forth, at whatever rate, and to whatever limits, you care to accept.”
And on, and on.
The next morning started out the way the previous afternoon had ended, with the Marines marching through the forest. Everyone fell easily into the routine. Early on, there was little conversation between Doug and the prince. And then…
There was no warning from their helmet visors or from the search shuttle that had passed overhead minutes earlier. There was only a burst of gunfire and a rain of grenades. The gunfire came first, by perhaps two seconds. That lack of coordination between rifles and grenade launchers saved most of the Marines. The gunfire sent everyone diving for cover, off of the path, behind trees, or into the thickest underbrush they could find on the instant.
Prince William’s escort pulled him and his companions down, and covered them—partially with their own bodies. It cost two of the Marines from Sheffield their lives, but the three men they were charged to protect weren’t even wounded.
Surprise was the only advantage this group of Federation soldiers had. They never switched on their helmets. It was daylight, so they could see, but they had no way to coordinate their actions.
The Marine response was immediate and overwhelming. The trajectory of the Federation grenades had been tracked by Commonwealth helmets, which gave the Marines a fix on the enemy positions. They returned grenades ten for one. Four needlers hacked through the underbrush while automatic rifles hurled heavier chunks of metal at the ambushers.
David’s second squad concentrated on dumping fire into the Federation position. He split the fire teams of first squad and sent them around both sides. The remaining Marines from Sheffield supported second squad.
There was no more fire from the Federation soldiers.
“Move in,” David ordered. “Keep your eyes open. Make sure the ambush isn’t twotiered.” He switched channels to get the search shuttle to come back for a closer scan. “I want an inchbyinch check,” he said. “I’ve got dead and wounded, so we need a site for medevac as well.”
There was a
muffled “Oh, my God!” from the shuttle pilot that startled David by the horror in it. Before the pilot could say anything else, David got a call on the regimental command frequency.
“Enemy ships converging on our fleet. Find defensive positions and dig in…fastV
Five seconds later, there was an explosion overhead as the shuttle was destroyed.
Part 8
38
Stasys Truscott kept busy all morning, but this time he made sure that people could see him. He held conferences with his captains and operations officers, explaining his new tactics. “We won’t have time to run drills,” he told them. “Unless the Federation stays away, we’ll be going into combat with the new maneuvers first time.” Nearly everyone had complaints about that. A few voiced them at length.
“It works,” Arias Rivero said during the holographic conference. “I didn’t much like the idea when the admiral gave me my orders either, but damn it, it works. I’ve gone back over every bit of control data for Lancer. We entered and existed precisely where the navcomps said we should be. The Nilssens showed no strain, and we’ve had no faultprediction alerts since.” Suddenly selfconscious about the way he was carrying on, Rivero stopped and looked around. “Sorry, Admiral.”
“Not at all.” Truscott grinned. He had been watching the faces of the other officers during Rivero’s talk, enjoying himself tremendously.
“We’ve all had it pounded into our heads from the day we took the king’s shilling that there were certain important limitations to our use of Qspace. You can’t do this. You can’t do that. So little was known about the theoretical limitations of Qspace and the technical limitations of our Nilssen generators that we didn’t dare press our luck, even with unmanned drones or MRs. Our planning commissions, the Materiels Board, even the Admiralty took those initial fears—bora when Qspace was a brandnew discovery— and fossilized them into Unquestionable Creed. Then one frightened and desperate man took a chance that no one in authority at the Admiralty would have dreamed of taking and catapulted an antique MR into Qspace directly after launch from his backyard. He didn’t destroy his world or the MR.
