Valkyrie

by Lucas Marcum

  He paused, then continued, “Be advised, Elai forces feigned a retreat into the jungle and then ambushed the militia. We don’t have any more information than that. You are authorized to utilize whatever force Colonel Moreno deems appropriate, up to and including the WICKED SKIES protocol.”

  There was a pause, then Elise’s icy voice came through the radio, “Olympic Station, Valkyrie One-One. Understand escalation of force will be at my discretion. Be advised we have an incomplete crew on this flight; we have a trainee in the medic seat. Shouldn’t affect operational status.”

  Tony keyed the mic again, “Valkyrie One-One, understood. Valkyrie One-Two will remain on the pad. If it looks like you need an assist, let us know.”

  The radio crackled again, “Olympic Station, Wilco. Valkyrie One-One, out.”

  Tony tapped the mic button and responded, “Fly Safe, One-One. Olympic Station out.”

  ****

  Aboard Valkyrie One-One, Elise keyed the intercom, and the big aircraft bumped and dipped through the turbulent air as it banked towards its new destination.

  “Ok, gang. You heard the man. Change of plans. We’re going to support some grunts hunting Elai. Cherry, you might get to use that lascannon you’re sitting at. You good for this?”

  Lieutenant Wilkowsky’s face was dispassionate. “Yes, Ma’am. I’m good. Let’s do this.”

  Elizabeth leaned across the rear area of the aircraft, gently tapped his armored knee, and smiled. She spoke without using the intercom, “Listen, this is good! You’ll get a little operational experience, and that way, when you get into One-Two next week, you’ll be more comfortable. Just follow my lead. You’ll be fine.” The young man nodded and smiled wanly.

  Up in the cockpit, Elise frowned at the nav screen as she checked the coordinates on a map. “Mitch, is this the best ground display we have? We’re not going to be able to see shit through the trees.”

  The younger man, scanning out the windscreen, answered, “Yes, Ma’am. Not much we can do about it. We’re probably not going to be much help unless the ground guys want us to recon by fire.”

  Joanne chipped in from her station, “We can probably get down to about thirty-five, forty meters before we risk brushing any sizable branches. Wouldn’t take it any lower, unless we find a hole in the canopy. Might get the drones lower, though.” She tapped her panel, frowning at her instruments. After a moment she spoke again, “We can longline the med crew down if we need to, I guess. That’s not going to be fun.”

  ****

  Twenty minutes later, the Valkyrie approached the coordinates provided. Elise manned the radio. “Olympic Station, Valkyrie One-One is on station.”

  The dispassionate answer came back immediately, “Valkyrie One-One, acknowledged. Keep us posted. Olympic Station, out.”

  Tapping a key to switch frequency, she spoke again, “Trident, this is Valkyrie One-One.” She let her finger off the transmit button and waited. Several seconds later, she spoke again, “Trident, Valkyrie One-One is on station.”

  The radio buzzed, then an accented voice replied, “Valkyrie, this is Trident Six. We have you in sight. Glad to have you. We have two injured who require evacuation. There’s a clearing approximately five hundred meters due east of your current position. We believe it will be of sufficient size, over.”

  Mitch responded as Elise started hunting for the hole in the canopy, “Ah, Wilco, Trident. Give us a sec.” Elise pointed in the distance, and a moment later, Mitch brought the Valkyrie into a hover near the clearing.

  The two pilots eyed the hole in the trees warily for a moment, then Mitch said thoughtfully, “Gonna be tight.”

  Elise nodded. “Yep. We can do it, though. My aircraft.” She began the minute maneuvering to position the big aircraft over the hole in the canopy.

  Mitch relinquished the stick and keyed the intercom. “Hey, guys. We’re going to be dropping into a clearing, and it’s gonna be tight. We need all eyes out. Major Suarez, LT, you two cover your sides. Jojo, you’re on the tail and watching the LZ.”

  The flight engineer acknowledged, clambered out of her seat, and through the small hatch leading to the cabin. She then slapped the button to drop the tail ramp, moved past the two nurses at their stations out to the tail, and clipped herself in, then leaned over the tail ramp to check the ground.

  The crew acknowledged, and the aircraft began its slow vertical descent into the hole in the trees. As they descended, the dark green jungle closed in around them.

  Calmly, Elizabeth reported, “About two meters from some decent sized branches here. Good for now, though.”

  From the tail, Joanne reported, “Looking good here. About ten meters to go. The LZ is clear. Looks totally flat.” Elise acknowledged in a flat tone and continued the slow descent.

  Joanne spoke again, “Five meters. Three. Contact.” There was a bump and a gentle settling as the aircraft touched down. Elizabeth and Jonathan kept their lascannons trained out at the jungle, the dense undergrowth only about ten meters away from the wingtips on either side now.

  At the rear, Joanne stood up on the ramp. From the bushes, two men materialized. They were unarmored, wearing dirty khaki utility uniforms. They were covered in mud and dirt from head to toe, and wore broad-brimmed jungle hats with vegetation in the brims. They both carried stubby rifles of an unfamiliar design, and had strangely curved knives on their hips.

  One of the men moved forward as the other turned to the underbrush and made several hand gestures. The second man approached the rear of the Valkyrie. He was broad-shouldered, with dark eyes and skin, and a broad smile. On the sleeve of his uniform were the broad stripes of a sergeant.

  With a distinct English accent, he shouted over the engine noise, “Glad you could make it! I’m Sergeant Mitra, Seventh Gurkha Rifles. My mate over there is Corporal Basu.” He offered a hand to Joanne, who shook it and grinned back.

  The man continued, “We chased down a few of the buggers, but while we were doing so, one of our chaps fell off this building we’re on now and messed up a knee, then another got bit by something and now he’s got a rather nasty fever.”

  Joanne motioned to the man waiting by the bushes. He waved an arm, and four men stood up, again seeming to materialize out of the undergrowth. They each bore a litter between them. They approached the aircraft and began to load the wounded men into the aircraft.

  Joanne gave a few orders, then stepped down from the ramp to speak to the sergeant. Raising her voice to be heard over the engines, she asked, “What the hell did we land on?”

  The man shrugged and leaned closer again to shout a reply, “We aren’t sure. All we know is it’s not new, and it’s not natural. We haven’t had a lot of time to explore, I’m afraid.”

  Curious, she scraped a booted toe on the flat ground, clearing a path through the moss. It revealed a smooth, grey stone, with very small cracks between the stones. She looked back up at Sergeant Mitra, who shrugged.

  The man leaned in again and shouted, “Mind taking this out and popping it in the post?” He held out a plastic-covered bundle.

  She shook her head and accepted it. He leaned in again and yelled, “Also, we found the colonists. Two alive and hiding. One dead, but not from the Elai. Something else.” He gestured at the dark jungle around them. She nodded and eyed the jungle warily.

  The man continued, “We’ll be in the sector for a few more days, but our intel says these were the last Elai operational in the area.”

  Joanne nodded, leaned close, and yelled back, “How many?”

  The man grinned, and held up ten fingers, then two. Joanne grinned and responded with a thumbs up. The Gurkha soldiers had finished loading, exited the aircraft, and were vanishing back into the jungle. The corporal was the last one visible, and he was waiting patiently.

  The big man nodded cheerily and leaned in again, “Thanks again, mate! Be safe!” He then turned and moved into the brush to the same position he had first risen from, then shot a thumb in the air. Joanne c
hecked around her, stepped onto the ramp and clipped her safety line back in, and tapped her intercom.

  “Colonel, patients loaded and LZ clear. Ready for lift.” Elise acknowledged. The Valkyrie lifted slowly straight up through the darkness of the canopy, then burst out into the sunlight. She then banked and applied power as they accelerated for home station.

  -15-

  “Mud and Blood”

  OPERATIONS CENTER, 348TH FIELD HOSPITAL, FORWARD SUPPORT BASE OLYMPIC

  1715 hours, NOVEMBER 20, 2247

  Major Tony Harris was in the operations center, again taking his turn as the officer of the day. He sat at his station and tried to focus on his screens; which displayed a correspondence course on Elai culture and psychology; in so far as it was understood. He reread the first paragraph he’d been trying to make it through for the past fifteen minutes.

  “The Elai, as a species, are surmised to have evolved from a predator on a planet with abundant life and a vigorous evolutionary cycle. This, in turn, provided genetic selection so that only the fast, aggressive, and intelligent members of the species survived.

  In contrast, human evolution is based around the general theory that humans are innately adaptable: From using tools to increase their lethality, to domesticating animals to make up for specific weaknesses; human’s innate adaptability combined with their intelligence resulted in their ascension from ‘prey’ to ‘apex predator’. This is not dissimilar from the Elai and their hypothesized evolutionary development. Their natural aggression and intelligence took them from an already lethal predator to a penultimate apex predator. The end result is the Elai as an intelligent species—a predator who outsmarted, outmaneuvered, and outfought all the other, larger predators in their ecosystem, and eventually became the dominant lifeform.”

  Tony tapped his lightpen to his chin and thought about this. He hadn’t seen a lot of combat, as his military specialty of psychological operations was designed for the human mind. He knew that eventually the time would come when the doctrine and tactics were refined and adapted to the Elai, but as of yet, there was no real psyops training in place. This correspondence course was one of several put out by the Psychological Operations Command to try to address this issue. It wasn’t very helpful, but it was better than nothing.

  “Sir?” a sergeant at the communications consoles said.

  He looked up, glad for the distraction. Trying to get inside the head of a being that looked like a half shark/half crocodile with a gun and an attitude problem was giving him a headache. “Yes, Sergeant?”

  The noncommissioned officer pinged his console with a data pack and said, “Sir, we have flash traffic coming from the Shiva’s Wrath. They’re reporting that a heavy lift shuttle went down on short final into Firebase Hammerfall, and there are multiple casualties, estimated at twenty plus. Coordinates are in the packet.”

  Tony reached for the comm headset and spoke rapidly as he did so.

  “Get Valkyries Two and Three in the air, and tell Chief O’Malley that we need Four back online as fast as he can get her buttoned up.” The sergeant nodded and picked up her comm set. Tony tapped his display to see the status of the Valkyries. One was down for deep maintenance, Two and Three were in the ready slot, and Four was finishing its daily maintenance. He punched the number for the Emergency Triage Unit.

  The phone rang once, then the Emergency Triage Unit noncommissioned officer answered, “Triage, Staff Sergeant Green.”

  “Sergeant Green, Major Harris in Ops. Be advised, we have an inbound OLYMPIC BLACK. Estimated twenty plus, severity unknown. Estimated time of arrival is…” He stopped and looked over at the noncommissioned officer. She had her ear pressed to the phone, but held up her hand with her fingers splayed, and then flashed it three times.

  He continued, “Make that fifteen, that’s one-five minutes.”

  The duty sergeant in the emergency unit responded, “Understood, Sir. We’ll be ready. Make the call.”

  “Got it.” As Tony reached for the switch that would toggle the hospital public address system, he could hear the throaty growl of the Valkyrie engines spinning up. As he keyed the mic, he again marveled at the efficiency of the medical personnel. They weren’t the most military in mannerisms he’d ever seen, but they were damn good at what they did. He keyed the PA and began to speak.

  “ATTENTION THE HOSPITAL, ATTENTION THE HOSPITAL. OLYMPIC BLACK. OLYMPIC BLACK. OLYMPIC BLACK.”

  ****

  Her eyes welling with tears, Elizabeth lay on her side on the bunk head, pillowed on her hands, staring at nothing. A datapad lay next to her. Elise entered the circular tent, toweling her short, jet-black hair.

  “Liz, let’s go get something to eat. We’re on alert tonight…” Seeing the other woman lying on her bunk, she stopped dead, then came over and sat down on the bed next to her. “Honey, are you ok?”

  Elizabeth didn’t speak, but shook her head. She indicated the datapad. Elise picked it up and, after a glance at Elizabeth, scanned it.

  After a moment, her face darkened. “That motherfucking, spineless piece of shit. I’m going to kill him. How DARE he!” She set the pad down and patted Elizabeth on the arm, “It’s ok, Honey. You and me are going to go on leave to Earth, we are going to find this hijo de puta, and tear his balls off.”

  Elizabeth just shook her head and rolled over onto her stomach, head on her folded arms, still not speaking.

  Elise picked it up and read it again, “‘Growing apart because of the distance.’ What a piece of shit. You’re at war, and he’s feeling sad and lonely. I’ll give him something to be sad about…” She continued to read the letter, muttering under her breath.

  After a moment, the pilot gently touched Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Listen, Liz. I’m not the best at comforting people. But…you’re a good person. This isn’t your fault. You’re strong. You’re beautiful, and you will endure. The pain will pass. I promise.” She paused, watching a tear roll down Elizabeth’s cheek. “You want to know how I know? “

  Elizabeth looked at her and nodded silently. Elise sighed, reached into the front of her tank top, and pulled out a small locket. Taking off the necklace, she opened it and showed the picture inside to Elizabeth. It showed a younger Elise with her arms wrapped around a little boy of perhaps two, their cheeks pushed together, smiling. A kind-looking man of about thirty had his arms around them both.

  She spoke in a low, compassionate voice, “This was my little Juanito. He was my light, my life, my everything. He and his papa Hector were my world.” She stared at the picture in the locket and continued in a distant voice, “I guess they still are. I miss them every day.”

  She looked back at Elizabeth, who was looking at her face. Elise continued gently, “I’m not minimizing your pain. I’m just telling you you’re stronger than you know, and will heal.” She gently rubbed Elizabeth’s back. “I know you can, because I did.” She paused for a moment, then continued, “And you might be a long way from home, but you’re surrounded by people here that love you, chica. Me. Brian. Jojo. Mitch. We’re a big, fucked up, dysfunctional family, but we are family. Ok?”

  Elizabeth sat up, and Elise swept her up in a hug. They held it for a moment, with Elizabeth still weeping gently, but smiling. Elise pulled back and looked critically at Elizabeth. “Enough of Ms. Compassion for now, though ok? I’m still gonna tear his fucking balls off.”

  Wiping her eyes with her hands, Elizabeth laughed and sniffled, then spoke, “God. I must look like a mess.”

  Elise held a hand up and rocked it back and forth noncommittally. “Eh. You’ve looked better.”

  Sticking her tongue out at Elise, Elizabeth reached for a tissue that sat beside her bunk. She wiped her face again, then sat back on her bunk and sighed deeply. “God. This sucks.” She wiped her nose.

  Elise nodded. “Yep. Not our finest show, that’s for sure.” Elizabeth laughed again and opened her mouth to speak, when they heard the buzzing of the PA as the speakers activated, and Major Harris�
��s voice could be heard.

  “ATTENTION THE HOSPITAL, ATTENTION THE HOSPITAL. OLYMPIC BLACK. OLYMPIC BLACK. OLYMPIC BLACK.”

  At the same time, Elizabeth’s comm unit went off. Picking it up and rapidly scanning it, she said, “Heavy shuttle went down. Valkyrie Two and Three are heading out; estimate twenty plus casualties in fifteen minutes or so.” Elise and Elizabeth traded a look, then moved rapidly to get dressed and to the hospital.

  Five minutes later, face washed, clad in her utility uniform, and pinning her hair back as she walked, Major Elizabeth Suarez swept into the Emergency Triage Unit. The large tent was abuzz with activity as the trauma teams assembled and began reviewing their equipment.

  She clapped her hands twice and raised her voice, “Ok, people. Listen up. Briefing time. On me.” The room’s buzz quieted somewhat. She spoke quickly and clearly.

  “About forty minutes ago, a heavy lift shuttle off the Shiva went down about thirty-five clicks northwest of us. They called for help, and the Valks are almost on scene. The Shiva’s control center is saying there are twenty-one personnel on board, so we’ve declared Olympic Black. This will be a mass-casualty event.”

  She turned to a thin female lieutenant colonel and a stout, calm-looking man wearing a major’s oak leaves leaning against a gurney. “Colonel Nwanka and Major Chen are going to be the primary triage officers.” The two physicians nodded. Elizabeth picked up a clipboard and continued. “I’ll be the primary triage room captain and traffic control. Staff Sergeant Green will detail NCOs to manage flow and designate recorders for the other areas. Areas are as follows: Primary Triage will be in the ambulance bay. The Emergency Treatment Unit will be for ‘Immediate’, under Captain Richards. The Intermediate Care Ward will be ‘Delayed’, under Lieutenant Wilkowsky. The mess hall will be ‘Minimal’, under Lieutenant Beta. ‘Expectant’ will be placed in the chapel tent, under Sergeant Miki and Chaplin Kowalczyk. Questions?”