Bethany Anne snorted into her drink at that one and Amanda rolled her eyes.
Score one for me, Ryck told himself with satisfaction.
“I think the little Mayfly tilts to one side as all of us shift to spot it. Sure enough, along the border below us, the flag rose above the trees, fluttering in the light wind. She is beautiful.
“Hosef banks the little Mayfly and angles us over for a better look. Hosef was a warrant officer, technically senior to all of us, but he’s younger than Corporal Sparta and he insisted we call him by his first name. Marines didn’t use warrant officers for pilots, but the FCDC did and a little Mayfly only rated the most junior of them.
“‘Is that in government territory?’” Corporal Sparta asks hopefully.
“‘Wait one,’” Hosef said, then, “’No, it’s five fucking meters on their side.’
“You have to remember that there weren’t really any formal borders, but the Second Ministry gave us a No Fire Line that we couldn’t cross and the League knew exactly where it was. They were flying the grubbing flag just to taunt us,” Ryck said, looking at the others to make sure they understood the situation.
“‘I could reach that flag if you got us closer,’ Sams says.
“‘Five meters is five meters,’” Sparta says, but he doesn’t sound very convinced to me.
“And then Hosef, to my surprise, asks, ‘What say we go try and snag that thing?’
“‘You said it was five meters to their side,’ my corporal says.
“‘Shit, you jarheads are so by-the-fucking-book,’” Hosef says. “‘We Dog Soldiers take the initiative when we see the need.”
“We Marines sometimes used the historic nickname for ourselves, but when Hosef said ‘jarhead,’ he made it sound like an insult—sort of like when we called them fuckdicks or doggies.
“He reaches under his control box and flips something, then says, ‘OK. We’re now twenty meters farther into our side of the line.’
“’I’m looking at the corporal as the smile breaks over his face and he says, ‘Oh, hell yeah. If you’re sure about that, let’s do it.’
“‘I’m sure,’” Hosef says as he swoops lower and closer, slowing to a stop about twenty meters away then crabbing closer.
“The downdraft from the fans whips the flag about, the gold catching the light of the late afternoon sun. She is beautiful. The distance closes and Sams leans out, one hand holding the edge of his seat, the other reaching to grab the prize. He touches it, but the flapping keeps it out of his grasp.
“‘Come on, Sams, grab the damned thing,” T-Rex shouts.
“And then the flag started to lower. Sams shouts and lunges . . .and disappears over the side as T-Rex tries and fails to grab him.
“‘Land this thing!” Corporal Sparta yells.
“‘I can’t, not here in the trees!’”
“‘We’re going down,’ Sparta says, pulling a mono out of his cargo pocket.
“He gives it a twist around the Mayfly’s side strut, then drops the line, shouting ‘Gloves!’ before he grabs it and descends. T-Rex is next, right on his ass.
“‘What am I supposed to do?’ Hosef asks as I whip on my gloves and grab the line.
“‘Just stay on our side of the line. We’ll let you know,’ I shout as I go over.
“Mono lines are great pieces of gear, but they are not good for fast-roping. They are too thin, so despite my gloves my hands are screaming as I drop through the trees and catch up to T-Rex. I try to slow down but I can’t get a good enough grip, and I hit his helmet with my feet, knocking him off the line. He falls the last three meters, hitting Corporal Sparta who’s just reached the ground. I reach the ground right after, the only one of us on his feet.
“To my right, Sams is groaning and trying to stand. Under him is a very still militiaman. Then I see a second militiaman standing just to my left, his TK-15 at the half-ready, his mouth open in shock. I take three steps and swing my M-99 in a vicious butt-stroke, smashing his TK-15 out of his hands and connecting with his shoulder. He staggers back, hands in the air as my finger starts to squeeze the trigger to send a dozen hypervelocity darts into his chest.
“‘I surrender,” he shouts and somehow that registers, and I hold back.
“‘Get down on your face and let me see your hands,’” I shout before asking over my shoulder, ‘You OK, Sams?’
“‘I think so. This guy broke my fall. The bastard was trying to lower the flag,’ he says, nudging the unmoving militiaman.
“T-Rex is on his feet by this time, and he says, ‘Nice move, Ryck. Lucky you didn’t kill me,’ before he steps over to Sams and the militiaman. ‘Hell, Sams, I think you killed him.’
“When I hear that I keep the other guy covered, but I step over to where I can see the man. His neck is at an angle necks aren’t designed to make. Under him, the edge of the flag peeks out. He’d tried to save Venus, but it had cost him his life.”
Ryck paused for a moment and looked at the others. He’d just told them that they’d killed a man and he wondered how they’d taken it, but there was nothing. They were just waiting for him to continue. Evidently this group of reprobates had taken a life or two of their own.
He continued with, “I look at the other three Marines. I mean, we are in deep, deep shit. We’re on the ground in League territory. We’ve just killed a league militiaman. We’re going to the brig for a long time, that’s a certainty. I look at Corporal Sparta hoping he has an answer, and I can tell he’s communicating with someone. I just don’t know if it’s with the lieutenant back at camp or with Hosef.
“‘Hosef can’t land here and he can’t hang or battalion’ll know something’s up, so I told him to continue his track, then come back for us,’ Sparta says.
“I look at him in surprise. Does he really think we can somehow get out of this with our asses intact?
“‘Uh…Corporal Sparta, we’re in League territory, and Sams just killed one of their militia,’ I start to say.
“‘Not my fault,’ Sams protests. ‘He was just under me when I fell.’
“‘Just listen to me. Hosef’s got an idea, and it might work. When he comes back, he’s going to say that he’s taking fire. We’re taking fire, since as far as anyone knows, we’re still in the Mayfly with him. He’s going to say he’s hit, and he’s got to land at an open area about five hundred meters from here to check the damage. We’ve got twenty minutes to get to there.’
“I listen for a moment, mouth open and ready to argue, ready to tell him we just had to come clean, but nothing comes out. I don’t want to get court-martialed, and that plan, as stupid as it sounds, could work.
“‘Grubbing hell, let’s do it,’ I say. I mean, we’re already in deep shit, right? So, how much worse can this make it?”
Bethany Anne put her head into her hands and was shaking it. He really wasn’t sure what she was mumbling, but it probably had to do with Marines. Ryck had to admit it really was a fucked-up story.
He pressed on. “We’re going to need to take one of their weapons. To put a hole in the Mayfly, you know.’
“T-Rex bends over and picks up the dead militiaman’s TK-15, turns it over, and then says, ‘Won’t work. It’s bio-locked.’
“All four of us swivel toward our prisoner. He’s prone and staring at his dead compatriot.
“‘What’s your name?’ I ask, stepping over to him.
“‘Giddeon. Giddeon McManus, sir,’ he says, his voice wavering.
“No rank, just his name. It was obvious that he isn’t aware of the Harbin Accords. He’s nervous as all get-out, and I can see him trembling. I look at Corporal Sparta and tilt my head toward the man. Sparta hesitates, then nods.
“‘Well, Gideon, do you want to live?’ I ask him.
“‘Yes, sir,’ he squeaks out.
“‘OK, it’s like this. You come with us. When we reach the LZ, you fire your fifteen where we tell you. If you do that, we’ll let you go. Understand?’ I ask.
> “Yes, sir, I’ll do that. No problem.’
“I look at him in surprise. I thought he’d offer some resistance and I’d have to threaten him, maybe rough him up. But he just capitulates like that without even trying to negotiate or ask for assurances? I didn’t want to beat on him, but he gave in too easily.”
“‘Just like that?’ I ask. “What about your buddy there?’
“He shrugs his shoulders, and says, ‘He was an asshole. I just want to go home, and if you’ll let me do that I’ll do whatever you want.’ “
“He’s OK with us killing his buddy because the guy was an asshole? Either he’s playing us, or the guy has no loyalty to his cause. I’m guessing the former, but there are four Marines and one him, so there isn’t much he can do. I look at the other three, and as one, they shrug their assent. I pick up Giddeon’s TK-15, sling it over my shoulder, and tell him to get up. T-Rex steps forward to search him for other weapons, then gives us the thumbs-up.
“‘You’re going to walk in front of me. If you even twitch sideways, you’re a dead man,’ I tell him.
“‘Don’t worry, I’ll do what you want,’ he says as he tentatively stands up, his eyes locked on the muzzle of my M99.
“‘What about him?’ Sams asks, pointing at the dead man.
“‘We have to take him. We can’t leave anything to focus attention here. T-Rex, you’ve got him,’ Sparta says.
“T-Rex is a heavy-worlder, so the dead man’s weight is nothing to him. He hoists the body onto his shoulder as Sams takes the point, and we head out. We have five hundred meters to cover, and not that much time. Luckily, we’re not in enemy-held territory, so we can move quickly through the trees back to our side of the border.
“I watch our prisoner closely, but as he follows Corporal Sparta, he doesn’t have the look of someone who’s going to try something. His head is down and his shoulders slump as if he accepts his situation.”
“Which is a look that someone who’s going to attempt something would try to portray, I know.”
“‘Hosef’s on his way in, so pick it up,’ Corporal Sparta tells us when we’re still three hundred meters out.”
“I take a quick look behind me at T-Rex, and the broad-shouldered Marine gives me a thumbs-up. We have to do something with the dead militiaman, and I don’t know what Sparta plans for that.”
“‘Fuck!’ Sparta shouts. ‘Hosef reported getting shot at, and battalion wants to know from where. They want a call for fire.’
“We all stop. None of us thought the CO would want a fire mission. Since there haven’t been any real rounds fired, Navy surveillance wouldn’t have picked anything up, which wouldn’t be that odd. But now it looks as if battalion is itching to get involved.”
“If you remember what I told you, our ROE was that we could only fire if we were fired upon first. No one in the League had fired at all, but we had just said they had. We had given the battalion CO his excuse.”
“Corporal Sparta pulls up his display, then pushes a position on ours. We had been moving diagonally away from the NFL, which is now about a hundred and twenty meters to our left. Just over the NFL is a slight rise, and that’s where the corporal highlights.”
“‘T-Rex, Ryck, haul ass. Drop our dead friend there and then boogie back to the LZ. Give me that fifteen,’ Sparta says.
“‘Wait,’ Gideon says, the first time he’s opened his mouth since we started. “Take this,’ he says, taking off his helmet. ‘The visor is ceroline so it’ll stand up to whatever you use to hit the place. And you can take the TK too.’”
“‘Can’t take the fifteen,’ I tell him as I grab the helmet. ‘We need it to shoot the Mayfly.’ “
“‘No, you don’t,’ he says, holding his hands out for us to see. ‘I’m not trying anything, so don’t forging shoot me.’ “
“He slowly reaches down to his boot, then uses his thumb and forefinger to pull out a wicked-looking handgun. I drop my M99 on him as he lays the handgun on the ground.
“‘It uses the same round. I can still shoot your ride, and you can leave my TK at the site. I want it to look like I was there when you hit it.’
“‘You want to disappear,’ I say as it hits me. ‘You don’t want anyone to know you’re alive.’
“He shrugs, then says, ‘It seems like a good idea. I’ve been thinking about the recruiters for Rio Tinto 2, but I’m still under contract.’
“Officially we didn’t have indentured workers at the time, but in reality, if you were recruited by a company, you were stuck for the length of the contract. Penalties were just too high for anyone to buy out their contracts. So, if Gideon was “dead,” then he’d be free. And hiring a dead man wouldn’t give any competent recruiter pause.”
“Now that,” Bethany Anne said as she took a drink, “is all sorts of fucked up.”
Ryck just nodded his agreement.
“Take the fifteen,’ Corporal Sparta tells me. “Leave it on the hill. And you,’ he says, turning to Gideon, ‘pick your handgun up and follow me.’
“I’m surprised that Sparta tells Gideon to pick up the weapon, but I don’t have time to worry about it. T-Rex and I bolt through the trees, racing to the high ground that Sparta selected. T-Rex is strong as hell, but he doesn’t have the same stamina and I pull ahead, crossing back over the NFL and climbing the low hill. I drop Gideon’s helmet and the TK-15, then head back down to meet T-Rex, who’s huffing as he climbs.
“‘Back down,’ I tell him, taking the dead militiaman’s body and running to the bottom of the hill.
“I run another thirty meters and put the body face down, his head against the bole of a tree.
“‘You don’t want him up there?’ T-Rex asks as he joins me.
“I know what he means. If we leave the body up there, it will be destroyed and the man’s weapon and helmet will give more credence to the fact that he’s been firing at us. But the guy hadn’t fired on us. He’d just tried to protect his flag before Sams landed on him. I didn’t know how good the resurrection process was on this planet, but with just a broken neck the man should be a reasonable candidate. If he had any chance of coming back, I can’t take that away from him. I don’t execute the enemy, and that’s what it will be if I leave him on the hill.
“‘This is good enough,’ I say, not wanting to get into an argument.
“‘Your call,’ T-Rex says.
“‘Now, let’s haul ass,’ I tell him.
“I tell Sparta that we’re clear as we run through the forest toward the LZ. I keep expecting to hear incoming, but there’s nothing as we burst into the LZ. The Mayfly is already there. Gideon raises his handgun and fires two shots into the rear assembly, then tries to hand his weapon to Sparta, who waves him off.
“There’s a crack of ionizing air behind us, and I spin around to see the distortion in the air that tracks the path of an orbital energy beam as it reaches down from a Navy ship and hits the hill.
“‘Oh, wow, get some!’ T-Rex says with awe in his voice.
“We join the other four at the Mayfly, then climb on top among the fans to better watch as beam after beam hits. Hosef pulls up a cooler, and we all pop some beers and cheer at each strike.
“‘We’ve got more incoming,’ Sparta says. ‘Battalion told us to keep our heads down.’
“That brings a round of laughter, and we toast our battle. A minute later, a missile streaks right over our head to crash into the hilltop. The meson beams pack more energy, but there’s something about explosives that makes Marines hard. We jump up, hooting and hollering as smoke billows up.”
“Hah! Boys will be boys,” Amanda said with a grin on her face.
“That’s it,’ Corporal Sparta says. ‘Battalion is ordering all of the patrols back.’
“‘Well, I officially declare the damage to the Hothead is minimal,’ Hosef says, poking his finger into one of the bullet holes in the Mayfly.
“‘Shit,’ Sams says. ‘All that for nothing. We didn’t even get the Venus.’
“‘Yes, we did,” I say, opening my utility blouse to show a flash of blue.
“‘You picked it up?’ Corporal Sparta asks, reaching over to touch the flag.
“‘I sure the grubbing hell wasn’t going to leave it there, but for now it stays hidden,’ I say, buttoning my blouse back up. ‘I don’t want to have to explain anything to anyone.”
“And that, my new friends, was how I started a war. Well, the six of us started a war. When we got back, the battalion was getting ready to cross the NFL and take the League’s capital. We rejoined the company, nervous that the truth was going to get out, but the skipper just asked if we were OK and left it at that.”
“Well?” the colonel asked, raising one eyebrow as he looked up from his beer. “Did you invade?”
“No. Between the bombardment of the hill and the battalion moving out, the League folded. They surrendered. We never even got to the NFL, and a week later, we were on the ship going back to Alexander.”
“You should have started your story with ‘This is a no-shitter.’ Then we would have known it was bullshit from the outset. But you spin a good yarn, General. I’ll give you that.” Terry locked eyes with him.
Tanis shrugged. “Seems reasonable to me.”
Ryck hesitated. He could have left it at that. He could have left it as just one more sea story, but a long, long time had passed and he’d been holding it all in, sharing it with no one. Not even Hannah, his wife, knew the story.
He pulled out his PA and followed three encrypted paths to the target folder. He held the PA to his eye for a retinal scan and the folder opened, revealing the file. Ryck turned the PA so the others could see the image from the past. Six men stood in front of a Mayfly in a small LZ: Four Marines, an FCDC trooper, and an ex-militiaman. All six had huge smiles, and they held a gold-trimmed blue flag with the image of Lady Justice in the center.
“Sometimes, my friends, sea stories are true.”
Interlude
“Semper fi, Devil Dog,” Colonel Walton said to General Lysander, raising his beer in a toast.
BOB's Bar (Tales From The Multiverse Book 1) Page 3
