Hondo was not an expert on various wildlife, but he was sure this was not rote instinct. The other two were making a decision based on some sort of thought process, not instinct. It was going to kill them, so it might not be a good decision, but still, it was not simple instinct.
The closest battalion entered the edge of the first ravine, then bent off to the right. It took a moment for Hondo to figure out why. Then it became clear. It was making room for the second battalion so they could surround and pound the three Grubs. The Legionnaires, much slower on foot, was advancing as well, but Hondo figured they’d be late for the party. The battle would be decided before they could get there.
Fire intensified as the players got into position over the next fifteen minutes. With one Grub laying quiet, only two were putting out tendrils, but they were enough to hold the first battalion at bay while the second rushed to join the final firefight. Fire slammed into the Grubs as well, and it was having an effect.
“Look at that shit,” BK said as one of the Grub’s blue-white tendrils shifted to a more orange-white. “We kicked the blue right out of it.”
The scientist-types would have to figure out if orange-white was worse than blue-white, but Hondo agreed with BK that is was probably a good thing.
The second battalion flowed across the flat ground between ravines, pushing past the three Grubs and cutting off any further avenue of retreat. This was going to end, and end now. No more running. The trail battalion slipped into position, and without waiting for the Legionnaires to arrive, the two Brotherhood battalions closed in for the kill.
“This is what I’m talking about,” Rosy said, elbow-bumping BK.
Hondo sat silence, ready to simply watch the death dance of the Grubs. He wondered what was going on with their thought process. Were they afraid? Were they complacent?
He was looking right at them when all three erupted in an orgy of light—not an explosion, but controlled light tendrils, just more than they’d show before.
Hondo felt a wave of anxiety sweep over him as the room went silent again.
“It’s just a last gasp,” BK said, her voice not sounding too sure.
And then the entire display lit up, blinding it out until the compensators kicked in. Hundreds, if not thousands, of tendrils reached out to hit the Brotherhood soldiers—and not just from the three Grubs. Thirty or forty Grubs had risen from the ravines and were now engaged.
“It’s an ambush,” Hondo said in amazement. “They fucking ambushed us!”
Even watching over a display representation of the battle, Hondo could almost see the hesitation in the Brotherhood forces as they tried to switch up to meet the new threat. Soldiers fell as the unit commanders issued new orders. Within five minutes, at least 40% of the soldiers had fallen, and unit integrity broke down into individuals and small groups struggling to stay alive.
The Legionnaires were closing in to help, but Hondo knew it wouldn’t do any good. Soldiers were alive and fighting, but the battle had already been decided. Those were dead men walking out there, and Hondo felt helpless.
A Grub dissipated into nothingness, but no one cheered. They were all too numb.
“The Brotherhood’s bringing in their monitor,” the captain who’d been giving the commentary said to no one in particular.
Hondo couldn’t see that on his PA, but the captain would have access to more data.
I hope it gets there in time.
A monitor was an unmanned or lightly-manned orbiting ship, all big guns and massive amounts of power. Controlled by another command ship, it could destroy ground units or installations without putting a manned ship in danger.
More soldiers fell, and Hondo lost all hope when a bright light-green bolt of energy lit up the display. Light-green was the color assigned by the display AI to indicate naval gunfire. The monitor had spoken.
More than spoken. Three Grubs were incinerated. They simply ceased to exist.
Before the watching Marines could react, though, the three original Grubs, the three that had acted as decoys to suck the humans into the ambush, somehow “converged” their tendrils, which came together above them and formed a single beam that reached into the sky.
Hondo glanced back up at the captain, and when the man swore and flung his PA to the ground, he didn’t need to ask what had happened. The three Grubs had shot down the monitor. A moment later, five other Grubs converged their tendrils, sending that beam up as well.
He had no way of knowing, but Hondo was sure the Brotherhood ship that controlled the monitor had been shot down as well.
On the ground, only a few soldiers fought on. Several of the Grubs formed a separate group and headed to the Legionnaires.
The display cut off. Hondo checked his PA, but the feed was cut off there as well. There was no malfunction. The brass had evidently decided that the troops didn’t need to see the end unfold.
“Fuck,” BK said quietly from beside him.
Yeah, “fuck” is right.
Chapter 23
Skylar
Sky slipped into the seat beside Bill and asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Not a clue. Well, considering . . . it has to be related.”
Around her, the entire executive and command staff, which had grown to several thousand people, was gathering in the auditorium. Sky had been in meetings non-stop since the disaster on K-2947, trying to make sense of what had happened. She was running on stim-sticks and Joltz, which was holding the despair at bay, but only just so.
Losing close to 3,000 men and women was difficult to fathom, especially when things seemed to be progressing. The Dictymorphs had shown a new side, and accusations were flying as to how any of them, and perhaps the Dictymorph team, in particular, had been so wrong.
“So, are you still talking to me?” she asked, watching to see his expression as he answered.
He sighed, tilted his head back, eyes closed, and said, “Yes, I’m still talking to you. It wasn’t your fault.”
“That’s not what most of you military types are saying. Bishop-Colonel West, he’s been asking for all of us to be fired, you know. Called us murderers.”
“It’s his ass on the line. He’s the senior Brotherhood military rep. He’s got to blame someone.” He paused for a second, then opened his eyes and looked at her before continuing, “Do you blame yourself?”
“No . . . yeah. I don’t know. I mean, we’ve been pretty wrong so far. No one thought the Dictymorphs had that degree of adaptability.”
“Seems to me you did. At least, you told me that too many were underestimating the Grubs.”
“Yeah, to a degree, maybe I was. But not to this extent. And even if I did, I let Janus and the rest set the tone.”
“Is it true what I heard about him?”
“Yep. He resigned yesterday. He’s on his way back to the Alliance.”
Bill shrugged, then said, “Probably a good thing. So, who’s taking over his spot? You?”
“Hah! Fat chance of that. I’m not much of a team player. Hastert, maybe, God help us. Possibly L’Teesha.”
“L’Teesha?”
“You met her at the Baiae. Turquoise and pink mohawk?”
“Her? She barely speaks.”
“She’s brilliant, but yeah, she’s not much one for talking. Hell, who knows? They may bring in someone new. It’s not like no one else is working on this. We’re just the advance party. Maybe Gentle Bosovitch. He’s had lots of input.”
“Oh, here comes the bossman,” Bill said, pointing up to the stage where the archbishop and EC Baker were crossing.
Archbishop Lowery reached the middle of the stage and stopped, looking over the people. Three-thousand sets of eyes focused on him.
“In view of our losses on K-2947 . . .” he started before trailing off. “No, not in view of that. I have to be honest with you. This has been building for awhile.” He waited again, as if trying to carefully choose his words. “There’s really no other way to put it than to
be blunt. As of approximately 45 minutes ago, the Brotherhood of Man, the Alliance of Free States, the Freedom Alliance, and the Denton Stations are withdrawing support from the task force.”
There was an audible intake of air as 3000 sets of lungs gasped in shock.
“Not only that, but those governments are petitioning the UAM to cease and desist all operations against the Dictymorphs.”
“Holy shit,” Bill muttered under his breath.
Stop the fight? What?
“With that in mind, starting immediately, all Brotherhood, Alliance, Freedom Alliance, and Dentonians will begin their immediate recall. Please check with your group admin to get your schedules.
“There’s one more thing. This includes all UAM personnel from those governments. Whether you will keep your positions with the UAM is yet to be seen, but you are no longer to contribute to the war effort.
“I have tendered my resignation and have turned over command of the task force to Executive Counsellor Baker who will act as the interim commander.”
He paused for a moment, then said, “None of this is a denunciation of the job all of you have done, nor does it negate the sacrifice so many have made. All of you should be proud.”
He turned to the EC and simply said, “Terrence?” before walking off the stage.
“Everyone else, please remain seated,” the EC said.
The gathered people looked around at each other, not knowing what to do. In fits and starts, individuals stood up and started making their way out of the auditorium. It took four or five minutes for those who were leaving to exit the building.
“I know this is a shock for all of us. It has been a pleasure to work with the archbishop, just as it has been working with all of the colleagues we’ve come to know. But regardless of whether our ranks have been cut, we still have a mission to fulfill. The Dictymorphs are still out there, and if we don’t assist the Klethos, pretty soon we’ll be facing them alone.
“All of you, get back to your job sites, get back to training your troops. There’ll undoubtedly be some shakeups, but deal with those as they come.”
EC Baker walked off the stage despite the hands shooting up by people with questions.
Sky had questions, too. Many of them. Perhaps the most pressing one, however, seemed to have been forgotten. It was one thing for the EC to tell them to all soldier on, but how were the Klethos going to take the news?
Chapter 24
Hondo
First Squad stood silently, watching the lines of Brotherhood soldiers load their shuttles down on the spacepad. Yesterday, there had been some 20,000 of them on the planet. By tomorrow, they would all be gone.
“Fucking cowards,” BK said.
Within that same day, the soldiers had gone from respected brothers in arms given condolences for losing two battalions to being vermin. Hondo knew it wasn’t the individual soldier’s fault, but he couldn’t help feeling disdain. It was as if once they got their nose bloodied, they ran. It had well over a hundred years since the Brotherhood host had done any serious fighting, and he was beginning to wonder if their vaulted strength was a mirage.
Beyond the shuttles, another small craft stood, representing something far different. The 20-passenger reconnaissance craft, able to fly through bubble space as well as land on a planet, belonged to the Greater French Navy. As soon as the shuttles lifted off, the ship, with 15 Legion commandos on board, would return to K-2947. One of the satellites still orbiting the planet had picked up a distress sign. Four Legionnaires, without any powered equipment, and left a simple SOS and message made out of rocks, hoping it would be spotted. Admiral Lopez had offered the Legion full assistance, but the Legion said they take care of their own.
The Legion and the Marines had clashed a number of times over the years, but at that moment, Hondo felt a kinship with them. More than that, he respected them.
“Well, Soldier,” Sergeant Mbangwa said as he stepped up beside him. “All that means is that only the best will be left here.”
“You got that right, Sergeant,” he replied. “We don’t need them.”
Except, he knew they did need them. All of humanity had to be dedicated to the cause if they were going to succeed. He knew that, but he didn’t want to admit that as he watched the host leave.
The sergeant said, “OK, enough gawking. Let’s get back to camp.”
As they started off again, BK asked, “Hondo, how come the sergeant always calls you “Soldier.” We’re Marines, not soldiers. I’ve always wanted to ask you that.”
“Yeah, me too, Rosy said. “It’s kinda weird. He calls everyone else by our names, even me.”
The sergeant was probably the only one to call Rosy “Roosevelt.” Most sergeants used last names and ranks for the non-rates, but when not giving actual orders, he often reverted to first names.
“Because that’s my name,” he said, stepping off in trace of their squad leader.
“No, hold on. You can’t leave it at that,” BK said, hurrying to reach his side. “That’s not your name.”
Hondo had never been too forthcoming about his past. He wasn’t ashamed of it, but it was nothing to trumpet about, either. But these were his friends.
“My name means “soldier” in Shona. So, he calls me that,” he admitted.
“‘Soldier in Shona?’” she asked. “I know you’re from Paradhiso, but you . . .”
“But I don’t look like the sergeant, right? I’ve got freakin’ freckles across my nose, right? Don’t you think I’ve heard that enough times in my life growing up?” he asked with more venom in his voice than he’d intended.
“Shit, don’t snap off my head, Hondo. Or should I say, Soldier?”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. Look, I may not be a Black Blood like the sergeant, but I’m still Shona.”
“Black Blood?”
“Part of the royal family. A Youmambo. The current mambo may be only an honorary figurehead, but the Black Bloods still run the planet and own most of it.”
“And the sergeant is a prince or something?” Rosy asked.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Hell, yeah. I may have to go visit him there when all of this is done,” he said, a big smile on his face.
“So, I take it you weren’t from one of the upper classes?”
“Again, you can say that.”
They walked on for another 100 meters when she said, “Still, royal blood or not, the sergeant seems like a good bloke. He treats you better than the rest of us, in fact. I’m not complaining, just observing.”
“Some Black Bloods are privileged assholes, BK, always taking, never giving. Not the sergeant. He’s got to be worth a mint, and he’s got his choice of high-level positions for him if he’d go home, but he reenlists for the Corps? As only a sergeant, not an officer even? And he’s never cut me down for my imbwa muko accent. No, he’s one of the good ones.”
“Imbwa what?”
“It’s slang, kind of meaning “dog boy,” but not in proper Shona.
“So, if you put that together, you’re kind of a Dog Soldier, right? That’s a proud title, you know.”
“A what?”
“A Dog Soldier. The elite warriors of the Cheyenne Nation.”
“The Cheyenne? The native Americans?”
“Damned right. Wicked fearsome, you know.”
Hondo looked at her in surprise. He’d never heard her spout off facts like that.
BK saw the expression on his face, and a scowl crossed hers. “Hey, I’m not ignorant. I can read me some fucking history, too.”
She sped up, pulling ahead of him.
“Nice move, Soldier,” Rosy said. “Pissed her but real.”
“Eat me, Roosevelt.”
But Rosy was right. He shouldn’t have acted so surprised that BK had studied something other than the latest immersion game. He could tell that hurt her.
Dog Soldiers. I’m going to have to look them up.
He looked back over his should
er one more time at the spacepad and the Brotherhood host loading up, then put them out of his mind and followed his squad leader.
They still had a war to win.
Chapter 25
Hondo
Corporal Yetter stared into Hondo’s eyes as if trying to dig down into his soul. Hondo kept his own eyes blank, focusing five meters beyond his fellow team leader. With a sudden, vicious punch, Yetter hit Hondo in his right bicep, almost driving him to his knees.
Hondo’s vision tunneled for a moment, and he felt more than saw Yetter turn him sideways before smashing his knee into Hondo’s thigh.
He barely stayed on his feet. He didn’t have to look to see his thigh was a mass of bruised flesh. He took two deep breaths, then stood straighter, not quite in a drill field position of attention, but about the best he could do, considering. Corporal Yetter simply nodded, then stepped back.
Sergeant Mbangwa stood up and almost sauntered over, his entire body screaming lethality. Hondo’s vision returned, and this time, he didn’t stare off somewhere beyond the man but right into his eyes. He wanted to see his fate coming for him.
Aside from being a Youmambo, aside from being rich, handsome as all get out, and a hell of a Marine, the sergeant was a beast, muscles bulging under his t-shirt. Hondo couldn’t help but swallow nervously as the sergeant approached.
Maybe he’ll go light on me? Hondo wondered. Viva Paradhiso and all?
The sergeant stood in front of Hondo for a moment, a menacing threat, and in an instant, Hondo knew the sergeant was not going to take it easy on him. If anything, he was going to go into beast mode.
“You ready, Soldier?”
Hondo nodded.
“On three, then. One . . .”
On “two,” the sergeant straight-punched Hondo’s shoulder, knocking him completely off his feet. The other NCO’s hooted and hollered their appreciation.
Someone, maybe Yetter, maybe someone else, grabbed Hondo by his left arm, but the sergeant said, “No, make him get up on his own.”
Hondo was nauseous, and he felt like he was going throw up, a bit of pre-vomit rising to his mouth, gastric juices burning his throat.
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